About two minutes after I leave my house, I fly down the ramp onto Interstate 40, a flat and long road with no pot holes or traffic, at least not where I drive on it. Third gear steals the show as fourth waits until we’re on the highway, blended with the rest of the waltzing little cars and box trucks. Then fifth, then sixth, cruise control, and go.
My music is mine and if I want the windows open, I open them. I can listen to “Waiting in Vain” by Bob Marley while I sip my too-hot black coffee, and I don’t have to worry about a dog jumping out of the windows. I usually don’t wear shoes while I drive unless I already have sneakers on. (Flip flops and sandals tend to get stuck under the clutch.) I feel free.
Sometimes I wonder if I have a touch of agoraphobia. It’s when a person doesn’t want to go outside or leave the house. Click HERE to read about it. It’s a serious condition so I’m not diminishing or diluting the fact that people suffer greatly from it, but I’ve felt something like it, especially in the past years.
Lately, though, I don’t feel it as much. Leaving the house still stings, but once I get going on I40 with my music loud and the sun shining through the crushed bugs on the windshield, it quickly diminishes. Working one day a week from home is so good for me, and I am grateful I am able to stay home the rest of the time and find this inner productivity I didn’t know I had, even while the bottom half of me is in PJ’s.
It’s even easier now to go to the store or a long ride. I don’t feel that doom and gloom and wonder and worry about all the what-ifs. Don’t get me wrong, I am still an over-thinker and when there’s down time I do let my mind wander into the darkness, but being busy and having a purpose that is individual is very therapeutic.
Also, because the boys are so awesome, I don’t feel like I’m unable to keep the house or my other responsibilities in check. It’s all getting done, and the Adams Family machine wheels and gears are well-oiled and moving forward.
It’s just nice.
Teresa Forester Adams 