Losing One's Mind

Snow fell on Chicago early this year and not a pretty, dreamy snow, but rather, a wet, bone chilling sideways-falling kind of snow. Chicago's tall buildings had disappeared, swallowed at the halfway point by a heavy grey sky while Lake Michigan churned a wild, foamy white. I sat behind the wheel of my tiny car on Lake Shore Drive, cursing the heavens as my normal 15 minutes of commute stretched to an agonizing hour. Due the dark sky and the endless compartmentalizing of my life, I was tired and frustrated and woefully late. My life had become defined by a simple race to be on time and despite my best efforts, I was failing. I missed sunshine and heat and long dusty roads lined with sunflowers and wheat. But even as my car inched painfully forward and I lost myself in overly heavy thoughts, I was jolted back into the moment. After all, I was not the frantic woman on the side of the road, holding her phone and gesturing manically towards her smashed car.  Nor was I in the boat being tossed about near the shore of Lake Michigan. The rescue trucks and boats were not racing to get to me. There was nothing wrong with me... I was simply a little bit late. 

The next day, I found myself driving in the opposite direction, heading north of the city on a beautiful sunny fall day. I was on time but I had not felt right all day. I felt detached and mentally tired but there was much to be done. However, as I drove north, past bold, red and orange painted trees, my eyes felt extra sensitive to the sunlight and a headache began to set in. I felt my breath shorten and my heart rate speed as I broke into a cold sweat. I lost track of time, unable to tell if I had felt strange for ten seconds or ten minutes. My hands felt heavy and numb against the steering wheel and I began to doubt myself and my ability to drive safely as  it seemed I was losing control. As wave after wave of fear poured over me, I pulled off the road, stopped the car and put my head in my hands. I counted my breaths purposefully elongating each intake of air and in my mind I drew a picture of the golden endless horizon of the Spanish meseta.  After a few moments, I lifted my head and discovered the world to be exactly the same as it had been before...  Only, I was different. 

Shakily, I pointed my car back towards home, afraid to see anyone in my current state. I felt horrified and weak. All of the strength that I had had such pride in was stripped away and I was left to feel like a broken toy. I had been having small moments for a little while, preceding this incident, but I had always been able to maintain control. Again and again I kept coming back to the thought that I was weak, that I was inept, unable to cope with the simplicity of daily life.. weak, weak, weak.. 

"But Jen, you are NOT weak.."

"PETER!!! I have missed you, I thought I left you behind at the Vatican!"

"Jen, I am always here but you are racing too fast to notice." 

"Peter, look at me.. I am a shaky mess."

"Jen, do you remember crossing the Pyrenees on foot or climbing your way across the Italian coast? Weak may not be the right adjective for you.."

"Then what??"

My Saint Peter smiled and patted my hand.

"Human... My dear, you are human." 

"In the depth of winter I finally learned that within me there lay an invincible summer." 

Albert Camus