With a firm grip on the steering wheel and a cluttered mind, I floor the gas pedal with a bare foot in October. An immediate urge to escape left no time for shoes. Without thinking, I take the car eastbound. Too many thoughts bounce around in my head, each one climbing over the next, all trying to make it to the front of my mind. Inhale. Exhale. Breathing has become a voluntary action, and I have to force myself to meticulously execute each breath as if it isn’t the most natural process in the world.
After another red light, my favorite stretch of black asphalt finally appears. I signal left. Driving on this road, for some reason, feels smoother than all the others. This road, this lovely, delivering, tree-lined lane of grace brings me a combined sensation of hope and relief. It brings me to the bridge.
Somewhere along this now seven-mile journey, I’ve concluded that having zero thoughts and having a zillion of them all at once are similar experiences. Emptiness. It is crowdedness so thick, so debilitating, that it blurs your vision and turns into a vacuum – an empty room with nothing but a thin sheet of dust. I begin to think I may go blind, until I see the bridge.
At the peak of this mountain that we call the causeway, the bridge that transports me to my soul’s home, I can see my destination. The 18 mile long barrier island that lies ahead is my mind and body’s escape. I exhale – the longest breath I’ve released in quite some time – and the noise in my mind begins to fall quieter. Automatically, my foot eases up on the gas and my car and I coast down to the bottom of the bridge. Cool gusts of wind find their way through my open windows and into my hair, with its familiar hand brushing my cheek. My eyes almost close from the comfort. An overwhelming sense of relaxation, a feeling I so desperately search for, over comes me. My eyes want to close in euphoria.
Once off the bridge, I follow my instincts. They lead me down the same street they always have, and practically park the car for me. I can smell salty air before even opening my door. When I finally do just that, I am engulfed by the scent and close my eyes to pay it my full attention. My remaining four senses are temporarily disabled.
My bare feet make their way down the gravely street and to the sand dune. Countless grains of sand are beneath me. I quickly decide that this is my favorite feeling in the world. I climb up the dune to finally reach the beach, and start toward the ocean without hesitation. Meeting the water’s edge, I am saved. Saved from my tormenting thoughts, undermining anxieties, and inner battles. The water, still warm from the lingering summer sun, heals me with ease. The ocean cures me, all at once, with a swift wave covering me.
Soaked jeans against my skin are a reminder that the trivial things in life all fall away when you make the decision to deliver yourself from your evils. Making the conscious decision to fix yourself, by whatever means necessary, is all that matters.
Find what heals you.
