The club

September 26, 2011

I once wrote a Facebook status about a girl I saw in traffic, crying her eyes out alone in her car. In my status update I mentioned her, and I welcomed her to the club.  This statement left my husband a bit miffed because he thought it reflected badly on him.  He didn’t want people to think he was the source of my angst.  Just to be clear, 99.99% of the times I might find myself crying in my car have absolutely nothing to do with him.  It’s just that I don’t like to cry in front of people so I tend to bottle it up and wait for opportune moments of alone time to reflect on the sad things and get them out of the way. And since my only real alone time is my daily commute, at least an hour everyday, that is when I allow any sorrows to creep into my thoughts. 

The day I saw the girl in the white SUV, sobbing into her hands at a stoplight, I felt a kinship with her.  I thought, you go sister, let it all out, right there with you.  You see, this day was not quite a year after my nephew left for his great heavenly adventure, which was a year after my father left on his, and six months before my brother-in-law of 34 years took his journey as well.  So there was a solid span of three years when I had reason to shed many tears, and most all of them ended up in my car.

It’s not that I buckle my seatbelt, adjust my mirrors, crank the car and then let sadness overtake me.  It’s not like that at all.  But sometimes a song might come on the radio, or I might see a sign or even a vehicle that reminds me of something, and before I know it my face is wet.  It usually doesn’t last long, but I’ve learned to go with it.  It’s my personal therapy, and by the time I get to my destination I feel much better.

Now don’t think all I do is cry in my car. I’m not that bad off.  You’re just as likely to find me laughing or singing badly as well.  I enjoy listening to storyteller podcasts and I keep them light.  Stories about the little town at the edge of the prairie where all the children are above average are my personal favorites, but I throw in some Moth podcasts as well.  Never listened?  I highly recommend.

I guess my point is, if you ever see me or anyone else crying in their car, or laughing hysterically or even singing badly, don’t judge, or pity.  You never know what we are going through, or listing to for that matter.  Just think of us as members of a special club you once heard about.  It’s a club with no membership dues, and all are welcome to join.  The only rule is sometimes the tears must be because of laughter.  There must always be laughter.