I drove home from work on Friday in the most horrendous rainstorm. At one point I actually thought I wasn’t going to make it back.

I’ve thought about the journey this weekend and I think it’s quite symbolic.

Picture this: you run from your work building to your car, you have an umbrella but your shoes have managed to start squelching even though you’ve literally ran about 30 meters. By the time you’ve put your umbrella down as you attempt to scramble into your car with your rucksack fully disrupting your entry, your clothes and the inside of your driver door are dripping, your hair is an absolute write off and that cheap mascara you bought to last until payday when you can scrape together the money to buy benefit has truly and utterly let you down. (Enter Marilyn Manson, stage left). You sit staring out your windscreen whilst the rain absolutely hammers down, but you only sit for 30 seconds, despite knowing the safest and best thing to do would be possibly to wait a couple of minutes and see if it dies down. But no, home awaits. You have a good 50 minute car journey ahead of you, but heck, turn your podcast up extra loud, put your foot down, you’ll be cracking.

You give no second thought that your windscreen wipers are on there way out and that you are feeling less than well today. Who can’t cope with a bit of rain on their windscreen?! People do it every day mate. Pull yourself together!

As you pull onto the dual carriageway (which forms around 40 minutes of your 50 minute journey) the weather takes a turn for the worst, your windscreen wipers are now working overtime, slamming at the bottom and right hand side of your windscreen but still struggling to provide you with even 40% vision. Still, why pull over?! This is your commute, you do it every day, you have done for nearly 3 years and a lot of times in the rain. You’ll be fine.

The windscreen wipers are really trying now, they are trying to help, but you’re starting to hit major planes of water and you’re gripping so hard to the steering wheel that your fingers start to ache. You lean forward in your seat and start getting audibly worried. You turn your radio off and concentrate, hard. Still, it’s only a bit of rain, your hearts started beating a bit faster but.. yeah, this isn’t working.

You decide to think about this, none of this is working, you need to slow down, you’re not going to get home in the normal time, and you need to be wary of the other cars around you, and your own safety, you turn your lights right up, and pull into the slow lane. You slow down to 40mph, sit back and concentrate on your drive, people are starting to flash you, but they get over it and take over. You are safe and more comfortable at this speed, you will still get home, it just might take a bit longer. What you could do, is pull over for 5 minutes, let yourself calm down, phone your mum and tell her you’re worried. Stop for 30 minutes if you need to. Home will still be there and there is genuinely no rush. You relax a little, and just as you do the rain… the rain starts to calm. It’s still not a pleasant idyllic driving experience but it’s manageable. You decide to carry on, but maintain the slow pace.

The rain stops at some point, and your windscreen wipers are still screeching against the glass, working overtime to clear your vision, without you needing it. It’s time to turn them down, turn them off. You’re ok.

You manage the final 20 minutes of your journey and pull into your road and turn off your engine, you throw your head back against the seat and feel momentarily very emotional, you were really scared, and you didn’t enjoy that. But the relief that it was over, for some reason, on that Friday, meant a lot.

What was all that about, what was there to worry about?!

But stop. You’ve just driven 33 miles, you’ve driven 33 miles in the most horrendous rainstorm, you were scared at one point, but you slowed down, you slowed to a pace that you were comfortable with, you let others over take you and you quietened the noises that were distracting you. You concentrated, but not enough to hurt your fingers, or your head. You let the windscreen wipers do what they could, but knew that they could only do so much. You turned your lights up so you could see in front of you better. You could have pulled over, you could have stopped, for however long you wanted, it was your journey, you had nothing to rush for, but you decided not to, that was your choice, you managed it.

It took you a bit longer to get home on Friday, it was a rough one, but you got home, in your own time and you used what you could to make it easier for you to manage. No one else needed to know, no one needed to rush you, it was and is no one else’s journey. To some it would have just been a commute, a car journey, in the rain. No big deal. But for you, for you my sweet one it was a big deal, it was a drive in a rainstorm, a bloody horrible one, and you got there. You did that by yourself. Good for you kid.

Hang in there.

Ellen on the Edge xx