Driving Through the Insanity

It wasn’t the first time, but it would be the last. I told myself that when it happened again, I would leave. I didn't want to, but I had to stay true to myself. Here we go again, the angry beast of mental illness had reared its ugly head, and his hateful, bitter words, so full of rage and disdain, shot like sharp, jagged shards of glass, and, as usual, I was the target.

What caused it this time? All because I asked a simple question, which now I don't remember what it was, it doesn't matter. I have to teach us both a lesson: him to know that I will no longer tolerate his unwarranted behavior, and myself that I need to set my boundaries and keep them firm.

Fortunately, his fit of rage didn't last long; there was no point in responding, there's nothing that I can say that I haven't said before, and it just falls on deaf ears. I quietly walked away. That's it, I'm done, I thought to myself as I went into the closet and grabbed an overnight bag. I was only going to pack enough for one night, which would give him time to calm down and hopefully, think about his actions. I, on the other hand, didn't need time to think about my actions, but my reaction. There wouldn't be any drama or theatrics; I simply was going to take my bag, purse, keys, and phone, and get in my car and drive away, and that's exactly what I did! Without speaking, he watched me as I put my bag in the car and drove back out of the driveway. At one point, he rushed beside the car and tried to grab the driver's side door handle, but when he realized I wasn't stopping, he quickly jumped away.

In the rearview mirror, I could see him standing in the driveway, mouth gaping open, watching me as I turned the corner to drive out of the subdivision. I did not doubt that he was muttering, cursing me under his breath.

I didn't know where I was going, I didn't have a plan. How could I? Under normal circumstances, I would have, but these were not normal. I hadn’t set my GPS or paid attention to landmarks; I just drove and drove and drove. My mind was so consumed with the events that had happened earlier, as well as all the ones that had occurred in the past, the screaming, of the obscenities, fuck you, fuck this, fuck that, the blame, everything is everyone else’s fault, the relentless refusal of accepting help followed by the, “ You just want to lock me away!” All the things I had heard all the years of only trying to help. It's true, you can't help someone who refuses to be helped!

I hadn’t heard all the text alerts on my phone, and it wasn’t until the actual ringing of my phone that snapped me back into awareness.

What time is it? How long had I been driving? Where am I? I pulled over to the side of the road and broke down crying, gripping the steering wheel, head on my hands, hysterical, frantically looking through my purse and car side pockets for Kleenex to blow my nose. As I sat there, I could hear the traffic rushing by, and the moment I looked up, I realized I didn't know where I was; I was completely lost.

All the feelings and emotions that I had been feeling up to this point, that led me here, were replaced with fear and panic.

When I left home earlier, I knew I just had to get away, but now, it was the exact opposite; I just needed to get home, such as it was, regardless of anything else, for now, I just needed to get there, and when I picked up my phone to see the time, I deleted all the missed texts and the call and set my GPS, it told me, home was one - hundred and fifty miles away. After turning around and heading back in the direction I came from, I stopped at the first gas station, filled up with gas, went into the bathroom, got a snack and soda, returned to my car, and drove.

What I'd hoped to be a quiet drive home was interrupted by the constant chatter of my " self-talk" therapist reminding me that this incident and all the others are not my fault! It's not my fault that he is bitter, angry and just generally pissed off at the world. It's not my fault that he was abandoned at birth, and even though I took him in at only five pounds and sickly, adopted him, gave him a home, family, and life, he still has abandonment issues. It's not my fault that everything I have tried to do to help him throughout his life and struggles, he has refused to accept. It's not my fault; it's not my fault! I thought "she" would never shut up, but finally, three hours later, when I arrived home, he wasn't there, and I found peace! I was relieved and hoped and prayed that he was smart enough not to come back; he was mentally ill, not stupid, he knew the consequences if he returned, and neither one of us wanted to get the police involved, again. I drove into the garage and closed the door behind me. The house was quiet, and my sense of calm was renewed. I locked the doors. After collapsing on the bed, I managed to get up and unpack my bag. I reminded myself, this is my home! No one is going to make me feel like I must leave it ever again, and whoever they are, if they don't like it, they can leave. I will never again be in a position where I have that overwhelming feeling of panic, fear, or being lost, whether it's physically, emotionally, or geographically! I know where I am, I’m home! I drove through the insanity for the last time. I'm home safely.