Had one of those moments tonight where I needed to get out of the house and be alone so I could hear myself think.
Breath.
And so no one could hear me release some frustration via the screaming method.
Before heading out, I haphazardly grabbed my boxes of "only for mom" goodies: crackers, cookies, and pretzels, hopped in the car and drove off to my special secluded spot I've been going to for years. Upon arriving, I shut off the engine, leaned back, breathed out a sigh of relief and relished in the thing I don't get nearly enough of: SILENCE.
After a few moments, I reached for my snacks. Picking up the saltine cracker box, I quickly realized it was open, immediately saw there were only pieces of cracker (i.e. crumbs) and then proceeded to drop it - probably because seeing it open was just a little bit surprising, seeing there were no actual in-tact crackers was a wee bit frustrating and the rest of the probably is due to that frustration I already had that I still needed to release.
Well, we know what happens when saltine cracker crumbs leave their box, in this case, spill: they go EVERYWHERE. Passenger seat. Floorboard.
No, I thought. Just N O!
I pounded my seat. I yelled. I berated the amazon employee who grabbed this box and manhandled it so horribly as to bust up every one of the crackers. All I wanted to do was sit in my seat and enjoy my snacks. I did not want to have to CLEAN.
Then I got mad at the other adult in the house who has this rule of no eating in the car - words I had to listen in a mind-numbing lecture the last time he vacuumed the inside. He knows who I am. He knows I violate that "doesn't exist in my mind" 'rule'.
I drive. I drink water. I eat. That's who I am.
I then remembered the adult that I am, and as such, composed myself and got to work picking up those g.d. crumbs as best as I could. After about 15 minutes, the car looked normal again, well semi-normal, and nearby critters were left with a few piles of tasty saltine cracker crumbs on the grass.
WHATEVS, I thought.
Leaning back into the seat, I sighed and thought how ironic it was - I had forgotten the experience that had caused me to head out of the house to release frustration - but still somehow managed to create an experience that led to the need for me to release frustration, nonetheless. To further the experience, when I turned on the car to drive home, I put the radio on. Highway To Hell began to play. I used to love that song - but since become keen to words and the lyrics in songs - I don't like it like I once did. But that driving beat - you just can't pass it by - especially when the road is open and there is no one on it but you - so I cranked it up and changed the lyrics - I'm on a Highway To Heaven. Suddenly I'm 18 again - lighthearted, energized. I put on some extra miles, wanting to keep the experience going as long as I could.
And now I sit here, reflecting more about life - the mysteries of it and of this place. I pull out the loaf of homemade bread I made earlier, lather on some butter, take a bite of the crisp crust, and proceed to get crumbs all over my lap.
And instead of frustration, I feel like laughing, so I do.
Which is probably the approach I should have taken to release frustration to begin with.
Love,
Victoria