Crack in the Glass

The worry crept in a bit too much this week.  One way I can tell when that’s happening is how I spend my commute.

If I start out for my day excited about the next chapter in an audiobook, or curious about the news, or even hankering for some windows-down tunes, I know all is well.

When all I can tolerate is silence – not because I am mindfully getting where I need to be, but instead because my mind is full of road blocks, I know I’ve sharply turned off course.

And during one of these sharp turns late this week, I noticed something in the corner of my windshield.

Shit, is that a crack? I didn’t say out loud.

While stopped at a light I leaned forward and ran my fingers over the area and felt a division.

I slumped back in my seat. My mind jumped into overdrive.

This car’s the rental.  I’m still waiting for my actual car to get fixed.  My insurance has already gone up.  Money’s already tight.  How, when, why did this happen?  Am I responsible for replacing the entire windshield? How much?  How fucking much? 

And just as I was about to launch into a hurtful, silent rant about what an absolute idiot I am – I pulled over.  I stopped.

I took ten full deep breaths.  Reminded myself that I am smart.  I am capable.  I am totally safe and supported.  I can feel however I feel, but it will not change who I am.  Then I took five more breaths and ran my fingers back over the glass, only to find it perfectly together.

My guess is that the crack was never there to begin with – though at the time I felt it, I would’ve sworn it was real.

Worry, stress, and anxiety are liars, tricksters, and cheats.

The less you and I fall for them, the better.

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