I spend a lot of time in my car. I have a 40 minute commute to work these days -except if I only allow 40 minutes it becomes a one-hour commute. It's some heretofore-unknown-to-me commuting law, apparently.
An unrelated fact (one would think) is that I hardly cry anymore. There for a while I was just a bucket of tears. I thought surely soon I would run out of salt water in my body. There must be a limit, I figured. These days, though, I'm mostly too busy to be sad.
But the minute I get in my car for the commute I get sad, and soon I start to cry. Sometimes it's a song on the radio. Sometimes I just have that "wouldn't it be nice to tell Dave about what happened at work?" feeling -which is followed immediately by the "he doesn't care" realization, which makes me cry. Or sometimes, I'm just exhausted and drained and frustrated that my life has come to this, and I cry over that.
But on the way to work today, I started to wonder if this is all just operant conditioning. Just like the ringing bell signaled imminent delivery of food for Pavlov's dog, maybe the car signals sadness for me. That journey of a thousand miles that began on October 8 (the one fleeing my marriage, I mean) involved quite a lot of crying in the car. Do you suppose that some prehistoric part of my brain thinks the car is the problem????
Would that it were so simple. But I'm up for the possibility that a new car would solve this problem ;) A cute little Mazda Miata, perhaps?