Now, Can You Feel It?

Blank-faced and gaping, I sat, feeling like a fish marooned in the sand as the hot sun beat down on my too-white knuckles. My hands gripped the steering wheel as tightly as I imagined my mother would be clutching her pearls if she knew I'd gotten myself lost on such an important day.

I'd just been gushing to my best friend Riley about my excellent luck that morning, when my GPS suddenly rerouted me and dropped our call.

There I was, sitting at a crossroads with nothing but corn fields to my left and, you guessed it, more corn fields to my right. If I was a corn farmer, sure, this might look like heaven. But I worked in finance and was supposed to be arriving at a potentially life-changing interview in the next 30 minutes, so it felt a bit closer to hell.

I met my gaze in the rearview mirror, the reflection giving me a jump scare at the sight of the black makeup dripping like oil from my eyes. I suppose I had been sobbing inexplicably for the past 20 minutes, so some mascara runoff was to be expected, but this was just excessive. I grabbed a makeup wipe from its designated spot in my purse and wiped the remnants of hysteria from my eyes.

How did I get this lost? My ex used to joke that I couldn't tell up from down if it bit me in the ass (her sayings never did make sense), but my GPS had always been reliable in getting me from place to place. It never occurred to me that it would take me so far out to the boonies that there would be no cell service.

The car wasn't even moving, but the amount of anxiety in my body suggested I was flying at breakneck speed toward a cliff. I could call the bank, explain that I had a family emergency, and request that they reschedule the interview. It was my last chance to recover my career in the finance world, after all.

I fumbled for my phone again, only to find the three horrific letters still stationed at the top right corner. SOS. A laugh popped out of my lungs like popcorn at the thought of my phone needing emergency care. I was the one who needed help right now, not my stupid phone. Everything had gone perfectly that morning as I was getting ready, all buttoned up and by the book. Had I relied on technology for so much of my life that it would finally be my downfall?

I knew I couldn't just sit at a crossroads all day and hope that I'd magically find my way back. If I kept going, I could track someone down to help me. I probably wouldn't make it to the interview on time, but I could still try to get back home safely.

I looked up, checking my surroundings, my foot becoming leaden and causing the car to lurch forward more than I'd intended. I slammed on the brakes again as my stomach dipped, a rise of excitement bubbling in my chest at the unexpected movement. I giggled a bit hysterically at the feeling. Anxiety and excitement often felt the same to me, and they were certainly mixing up more than usual today. I slow the car to a stop, realizing there is not a soul in sight. No houses, no gas stations, no highways. No one to tell me who to be, how to dress, or what they think I should get paid because I'm a woman; just rolling hills, open pavement, and a bright blue sky.

My life was so overscheduled that I'd forgotten what it was like to feel this excited. Real, honest-to-God excitement. Suddenly, all I wanted most in the world wasn't to make it to that interview; it was to feel that feeling again.

I'm not one to believe the universe controls my life, but maybe luck was on my side after all.

I took in a deep breath, blowing it out through my dramatically pursed lips. I unknotted my long auburn hair from its tight bun, shaking my head and fluffing the locks out with my hands. I unbuttoned my blouse and discarded it on the floor. My body suddenly felt like it could breathe, my lace-strapped tank top feeling cool against my skin. I looked into the rearview mirror, wiped the nude-colored lipstick from my lips, and replaced it with a bright cherry red. My mom had reminded me before the interview to tone myself down, having physically scoffed at my wish to wear this lipstick in the first place.

"They'll think you're a harlot, Amanda. You're not going in there and letting them assume you're going to sleep your way to the top. You're successful in your own right; no need to intimidate them further before they can get to know you."

Maybe I was a little bit of a harlot on the inside. Maybe I wanted them to be intimidated. I was so tired of being put into boxes by other people. Maybe missing this interview was exactly what I needed to wake up.

I rummaged through my glovebox, papers spilling out into the passenger's seat to cover up my pristinely stacked resumes. I gasped and giggled as my hand grasped the mystery item and lifted it out. My fingers ran over the cool plastic CD case as I traced the words "Alanis Morissette" through the middle and "jagged little pill" in the bottom right corner. I beamed from the inside out as I cracked open the case, the CD still perfectly intact, and pressed the round disc into my car's dusty CD player. Muscle memory leads me to skip directly to track two.

"You Oughta Know" began to spill faintly through the speakers, the joy of nostalgia manifesting as a wicked smile on my face. I cranked the volume dial and pushed the speakers to their limit. I pressed my foot down hard on the gas pedal as the car took off like a bat out of hell, tires screeching in all their glory. Each word of the song traveled across my lips, resonating through my body as though it hadn't been nearly 15 years since I'd heard this melody.

Who had I even been 15 years ago? Just a confused little girl who felt feral on the inside but had learned to "be polite" and "smile pretty." A girl whose life and value had been co-opted by religious sects and a patriarchal society far too soon.

You know what, fuck that. Fuck all of it, really. Who was I before I started to believe that other people knew what was better for me than I did?

Was getting lost all it took for me to crash out and consider that maybe there was more to life than what people told me I should want? Maybe. But as the words, "I'm here, to remind you, of the mess you left when you went away," roared from my lungs, my head thrust out my car window like a dog on the best day of its life, I couldn't help but wonder if getting lost was what I needed to find my way back to myself all along.