Doing the Dance
Over the years, as I have talked about “recovering”, I often
allude to the fact that the equanimity piece in recovery has been challenging
for me. Just to remind us, equanimity means to have an evenness of temper even
when under stress. I seem to always be under stress, whether real or perceived,
which leaves me feeling anxious. And I often suggest that my anxiety manifests
itself in road rage. Perhaps calling it road rage is overstating it a tad. We
have all seen videos of that person whose road rage has taken them over the top,
ending in assaults and criminal charges. I am not there, yet.
Over the course of the last eighteen months, I have been
working from home and as a result, I have done very little driving. And with
all things pandemic I wondered where my equanimity would be at should I find
myself driving more.
Well, to be sure, I found out one morning this week. Due to
circumstances, I needed to drive my wife to work. No problem. Just a thirty-minute
drive on some of the busiest roads around Winnipeg during rush hour. The
ultimate test.
So what is up with people following me mere inches from my
bumper? Slam on the brakes to no avail. Slow down so they can pass. They slow
down but stay right there. Blood pressure rising. Hear a comment from the
passenger side about my speed. Look down, don’t see an issue. Why are there two
semis driving side by side below the freaking speed limit? Come on, let me by
already. And then there’s another driver right on my butt again thinking he
needs to get where he is going before me. But I can’t move because of the
semis. Give me a break.
Then I was reminded of what someone once told me. They
suggested that driving was like dancing on a crowded dance floor. You move with
the flow. Sometimes you move in front of others and at times you let others by.
But keep listening to the music and enjoy the dance.
Well, let me tell you. As a young Mennonite it was a sin to
dance. As I got older, I needed liquid courage to dance and found out quickly
that I have two left feet. And after taking some dance lessons there seemed to
be mutual agreement in this household that, perhaps, dancing wasn’t necessary.
Or was that only me thinking that? I am sure I will find out when she reads
this. Whatever the case, trying to improve my thoughts about other drivers by
comparing it to dancing was not working.
As I ventured home it hit me. I was particularly impatient,
seemingly in a rush to get home. A rush to get back to my office to do what? So
I changed my thinking. I looked at my travels as an opportunity to face another
day of “virtual” everything by taking a deep breath, cranking up the radio and
enjoying the solitude of my ride. It was rather interesting how quickly the
antics of other drivers just simply didn’t matter.
You see, I seem to have this attitude that when you drive
faster than 110 you’re an idiot and when you drive slower than 110 you’re an
idiot. And maybe, just maybe, I am the idiot. Whatever the case, its clear my
recovery is still a work in progress. I need to work on this. Now if everyone
would just get out of my way it would be a lot easier. Just saying. Make it a
good one.