It is 5:34 p.m. The sun is long gone, a stranger in its appearance as it trudges towards the winter solstice. The cool, welcoming fall breeze has turned into a skin-piercing gust that turns the skin red, stinging with each swirl.
The taillights in front of me flicker in brightness.
Start. Stop. Start. Stop. Start. Stop. If there is beauty in the ordinary, I have yet to see it.
As I enter the left turn lane, a subtle whisper takes over my stereo, a prologue of sorts to a Rivers Cuomo chunky guitar riff.
“Go back to sleep, honey,” the voice assures, softly. “Everything will be alright in the end.”
I stare intently into the back of the vehicle ahead of me, just trying to regain my focus. I know what is coming, as my brain, my greatest friend and treacherous foe, readies its next trick. It is inevitable, as the words permeate my cranium, my eyes widen.
That’s when it starts. It always begins with the hands. The fucking hands. They begin to tingle, and turn ghost white. It’s hard to grip the steering wheel, as the sensation makes its way through my arms, and beelines for my heart.
When that hits, it is nearly the point of no return. The eyes begin to water and tighten. Your esophagus begins to close. You immediately feel each breath more intensely than the one before it, sometimes milliseconds apart, other times, fighting for any semblance of oxygen you can find. That’s the scariest part of the process: drowning in open air.
I have been in this same exact position before, and the view never changes. This is the onslaught of pure, unfiltered, unrelenting panic. It is triggered at the thought of my failures, shortcomings, and the notion that everything will indeed be alright in the end. In this moment, pulled over on the side of Route 130 near what appears to be a reservoir, that is simply impossible.
How can everything be alright? I am professionally lost. I am personally gutted. If the light I seek rests within the end, then when is the end coming?
Aware of what is about to happen, I seek solace in desperation. In your worst minutes, turn to those who you hope will hear you. I quiver, sending a voice text.
“Do you have like two minutes by chance?”
Within 30 seconds, I get a response.
“Sure.”
I try my best to maintain my composure, which lasts about three words. Immediately, the emotion pours out. Each sentence more and more disjointed, full of fear, uncertainty, and disappointment. Almost instantly on the other end, there is a tonal shift.
“Okay. Listen to me,” they said. “I love you, and I just need you to breathe with me.”
It was less than a minute ago I felt the air around me disappearing, as my brain entertained a state of hypoxia. And even though I’ve fought through this exercise before on my own, the mere assurance of support quickly settled the hysteria happening. I begin to find my breath more with each rep, my hands regaining blood-flow slowly.
I am reminded of my uniqueness. I am provided confidence in my worth. I am given a ringing endorsement of my authenticity. It is all temporary grace, but it is invaluable and needed.
“I wish I could make your brain understand how special you are,” they tell me, their own pain registering through their tone. “There is something bigger in store for you.”
These, of course, are all simply words of affirmation. There is no guarantee of tranquility. There is no promise of peace. Yet in this offering comes comfort, brought upon by the simple principle of belief. Simple in nature, of course, but enormous in impact.
This resonance should serve as irrefutable evidence of the value in those who truly love and support every piece of you. They are the beauty in the ordinary, our escape from our own perils, and the foundation for our progress. Man, do we all deserve that. I am beyond grateful.
The shakiness settles. Each word becomes more clear. Together, we have defeated Imposter.
For now.
At this juncture, that is secondary. Those fleeting thoughts, the agents of chaos, they will all return eventually. I know they will. That is inevitable. But thanks to those who see you for you, it feels like there is a chance it may actually end up being true.
Everything will be alright in the end.