Hey friends, it's Rosie here.
Welcome back to Radio Headspace.
The other morning I was pulling out of the driveway, tea in hand,
mentally reviewing my to-do list before I hit the street when I heard it, a thud.
I had clipped one of the trash cans with the car.
Oops.
It wasn't like the car is totaled bad.
Just enough to jolt me, spill the tea a little
and remind me that perhaps I was not as present as I thought I was.
I paused, looked in the rearview mirror, and the trash can was tipped sideways in quiet accusation.
And instead of laughing it off, my body reacted like I had just been personally betrayed by a piece of plastic.
I could feel it instantly.
My jaw tightened, my shoulders rose, my breath got shallow.
I muttered something under my breath that I will not repeat here.
By the time I hit the main road, I was primed.
You know that feeling.
When something small sets the tone and suddenly every red light feels intentional,
every slow driver feels malicious, every lane change feels like a personal attack.
Road rage is fascinating like that.
It rarely starts with the car in front of you.