Losing my mind

Maybe I really am losing my sanity. It could be happening so subtly and gradually that I am not aware of it. It's a sad side effect of being single: there is no other adult around to provide a reality check. No one shouts at me to "get a grip" anymore, whether I need it or not. I am so preoccupied with being a good, sensible "therapeutic" parent, that my sense of self is possibly gently ebbing away.

Occasionally, I have episodes where I hear myself speaking and I realize how unhinged and hysterical I must appear, but I cannot stop. No amount of internal screaming to "get a grip" seems to help.

A few months ago at Jeff's school play, I watched almost the entire show with my eyes fixed on one of the other kids who was slowing and methodically shredding a silk scarf . . . . my silk scarf, in fact, intended as part of Jeff's costume. No amount to sensible self-talk could dampen the rising anxiety I felt. I had to leave the auditorium.

Then today, our local block party. Every summer on a nice Sunday, traffic barricades appear on either the block to the south or the block to the north. I never pay much attention. I am invited, I suppose, the same way all the third graders in one class are invited to Bobby's birthday party. Invited, but not welcomed.

My impression of the block party's purpose is that adults move their lawn chairs from the lawn into the middle of the street and kids ride their bikes maniacally down the middle of the road, instead of near the curb. The other entertainment is a visit from a local fire engine.

This morning, I noticed that our entire street was blocked off with saw horses, three blocks, including all the alleys and side streets. My house happens to be dead center and unlike previous years, there was no obvious egress either one block up or down. I simply moved one of the side street barricades to drive out. My misfortune was taking what I thought would be a less intrusive route back home three hours later.

Without realizing it, I had driven up to a circle of occupied lawn chairs placed dead center in the street. I offered to turn around and go another way. I asked if there was a route the angry mob preferred. I explained that I was a neighbor, too, and in fact a resident of this very block, but the damage was done. Short of turning back time and parking on a side street, there was nothing for it, but to bear the neighborly swearing and threats. Pretty harrowing.

Was it really distressing enough to cause me to cry? I have lived here seventeen years, and never had reason to exchange words with anyone. Without Jeff in the back seat, maybe it would not have been so humiliating. With another adult living here, maybe I wouldn't feel so vulnerable.

The neighbors know where I live, they know my car. I am a single woman living with two young children and I clearly need to get a grip. In the meantime, I'll have to leave my house only under cover of darkness.