Driving Under the Influence

by: Sophie Quindara

I ran a red light last August because I was thinking of him. Somewhere in the intersection amidst the car horns and blaring reflections, I realized I had lost myself, a tether severed miles ago that I hadn’t noticed until now. In an attempt to run away from him, I turned around and ran towards him instead. As I sank deeper, I saw the darkness as light, the red as green, the healed as broken.

I pulled over and sobbed again. It felt like I cried every day since we ended it, but this time it all broke loose like I had been holding back the real emotion. I didn’t stop myself.

I had never been a reckless driver. I went over the speed limit or slower, full stop at every sign. I had a constant fear of getting pulled over, of losing control, of falling victim to another driver. The roads were uncertain no matter how many times I drove them. It wasn’t memory that failed me, it was what scared me.

Driving demanded my full focus, which is entirely what made it so peaceful. I could turn off the noise, forget about the destination, forget about the before. I concentrated on the pavement, the yellow and white lines. I thought in brake and accelerate and right and left and blinkers and lights until I turned my key again. When my car was in drive, and I was at the wheel, my thoughts reduced to nothing and my mind ran with the road.

I was warned of drunk driving like I was all other crimes, immediate injury or jail or both. The thought of hurting myself or others loomed over me, forcing my mind to be cautious. When I first started drinking, it became the single standard I held myself to: never drive intoxicated.

But sometimes I’ll find myself driving like I’m not in the car at all. An out of body experience, a disassociation, whatever you choose to call it, I’m driving under the influence.

It’s not just him, it’s everyone I’ve ever loved, everyone that’s caused me harm. It’s every punch taken in an argument, every slap on the wrist from my faults. Every deep dark secret seeps back into my consciousness, every painful memory and every regret. I’m distracted by the failures of my past and terrified by the uncertainty of my future that I forget I need to be present.

I blink back into consciousness, dropping the breath I was holding, my heart dropping subsequently. I release the firm pressure on the gas pedal, hold my wheel steady and find my center. All consumed by everything outside of the car, I’ve lost myself in the single place I’ve sworn to never do so.

I don’t know where to go from here. I’ve lost my way home. I’ll pull into a parking lot, and type in an address I’ve been to a thousand times. I’ll remind myself not to think just yet, instead wait until I’m safe. My thoughts are intoxicating, it’s dangerous to confront them so vulnerable. I look for control in the emotion, turning down their intensity until I only hear the hum of my engine and the sound of my breathing. I blink back tears and turn onto the road.