I was literally jolted awake this morning by the smell of diesel fuel and a very familiar, internal, unsettling rumbling from my throat to just beneath my ribs. I now recognize it immediately. It’s my train. Its engine is struggling to turn over very much like starting a car in New England in the middle of February after it has lain dormant for a few weeks.
I immediately start searching through my interactions from yesterday. Who disappointed me? Who pissed me off? Who insulted me with a sideways glance, a word, a gesture??? Who the hell made an innocent remark that I somehow saw as a threat?
Whoops! There it is!
No one.
That’s not good.
At least if I can recall the person, the moment, the “reason,” I can focus myself to contain it and to let it go. So if that person does happen to cross my tracks today, I can stop well ahead of time. Impact avoided.
But, as often happens with me, there is nothing specific. I just want to get everyone the hell out of my way today.
It’s that somatic. I can anticipate the taste of it with the kind of “Yes!!!” as if I had satisfied a month long craving for The Newport Creamery’s double hot fudge sundae (with extra peanuts please). Every cell of my body is colluding to convince me to just let it happen. Something in me crosses my heart, hopes to die, hopes to stick a pin in my eye and promises that it will never ask again. It is, honest to God, the last time. Please, one more time let’s ride that feeling of speed and impact. Please, please, please!
Do me a favor and re-read that last paragraph with me.
Whoops! There it is!
How old IS that somatic craving??? I’m thinking somewhere around 9?? Do I really want to indulge this desire by giving the throttle to a 9 year old?? I know my parents did, but do I want to do that to her, to me, to the people on the tracks? And if I give her permission now, what kind of woman, mother, guide am I?
I’m going to go now and have a heart-to-heart with her. Listen to and acknowledge her feelings and reassure her that I will not perpetuate the role she was put in at a very young age for which she was totally ill-equipped. I will take my place as her safe haven, protector and guide. Dealing with the world is my job. She can go play.
And then this afternoon we’ll get a double hot fudge sundae with extra peanuts please.
There it is.
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