The Not Long Enough Commute

As I drove to work I could barely see through the salty tears streaming down my face and burning my eyes. I don’t know why this morning was any different; this has pretty much become a morning ritual. I drink my coffee, wipe the tears from my face and resist all temptation to drive into oncoming traffic. Why do I put myself through this if I hate it so much you ask? Faith and fear. But today I was overcome by your everyday depression…

{Insert cheesy anti-depressant medication commercial here – except in my dreams they are more like a strange Burton film than cheesy}

…and the faith and fear part were off playing hop-scotch together and drinking grape Kool-Aid while braiding each other’s hair. I’ve grown to accept the faith and fear part as reasons that keep me at my job. We are dear friends but sometimes those bitches don’t invite me to their sleepovers and I’m left with the fear of turning out like my mother – not the right type of fear. Growing up with a mother who dealt with manic depression I’ve always been fearful of catching it like it was a deadly zombie disease. Because of this I’ve adopted the “I’m fine” tag line whenever anyone asks me how I am but most importantly I’ve tricked myself into believing it when I say it. I say it over and over in my head when I feel the dark cloud approaching. I’ve come to understand this as paranoia and have learned to ride the wave till it passes. Let’s be honest, it is usually just hormones. Don’t even get me started on those demanding chicks.

Faith, that the future will bring better things and that we will be blessed for being faithful to what we believe in and faithful to achieving our goals.

Fear in not being able to pay the rent if I quit my job. Fear of the cold; I’d like to be able to turn the heater on and have it blow actual warm air. Fear of powdered milk; I remember having to drink it when I was little and distinctively remembering thinking to myself that I would never make my kids drink this. I could not have been more than 6 years old making such a life decision that has stuck with me to 31. I remember thinking I might as well be drinking water – what is the difference? Have you ever had powdered milk?

As I continue to drive I can feel the burning judgment from the eyes of the woman pushing the shopping cart down State Street filled with garbage bags filled with God only knows what. I can hear her saying what a fool I am to be driving to a job that makes me miserable just because I am scared of living on the streets. I hear her hissing laugh through the four teeth she has left in her mouth.

Now I’m left with the image of those four dirty teeth that have started gossiping about me I’m sure of it. I shake it off like a dog after a bath and take a deep breath as I exit the elevator wishing that our break room doubled as a huka bar. Oh how it would be to take a load off like that on my 10am morning break? It could not possibly make me anymore unproductive.

With all that said, I still hold on to the dream of being able to do what I enjoy full-time and will continue to work on my goals to achieve it. As slow of a journey it may be, I can’t wait for it to get here.