Crying Cars

These last few weeks, my car has been making a really bad screeching noise. I kind of hoped it would go away, but it only got louder and louder as time went on. So I finally decided to drop it off at a mechanic. They told me they could find no noise. I went back, drove around with one of the mechanics in the passenger seat, and sure enough, my car made no noise. I'm sure this has happened to many of us before. 

I'm going to force a metaphorical reading on this event, so I have something to write about. When we have issues, we tend to lash out. Sometimes it is a cry for help. And after a while, the screeching in our souls becomes so loud, we go see someone to help fix us, but really, we just need to vent and have someone hear us. We just need to release some things, just talk to someone, and then we're all good and dandy once again. 

Some time ago, I wrote about feeling a need to cry, but being unable to do so. That it was building up pressure, and I didn't know when it would pop. When I lay alone in a dark hospital room four months ago or so, under the impression that I was dying because I thought I had a stroke, I did a lot of crying. Like, a lot. It's scary to think you're going to die in a dark lonely room. And after my silent cry sessions, I felt such great relief. Like there was so much weight lifted off my chest. It came with short bursts of energy, like I could do 100 pushups. Then I would go back to normal, and begin crying again. Then short burst of happiness and relief. And a few more times like this, and my body began to loosen up and I regained my body movement. 

I didn't need any special kind of service. I didn't need to be looked at. It was a severe anxiety attack. And I just needed to let myself feel things and then let things go. Hopefully, my car will remain okay. Hopefully, I remain okay.