Proof

I ended up on the freeway tonight, driving north. It was dark. I had just over a half of a tank of gas. And because of the mood I was in, I was sorely tempted to see just what was that far away, to just drive. I thought I might go out about a quarter of a tank and turn around. But then I realized I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to come back. I wanted to just go. I have had in my signature since August “One day I’m not coming home.” Tonight almost felt like it might be that night.

But why tonight?

Last week a group of friends needing to escape for a night out came to my house. I went out and rented “Akeelah and the Bee” for us to watch and enjoy. While I was looking for movies, I also happened to grab “Proof,” which I remember seeing previews for and thinking it looked interesting, but like so many other movies, I’d never gotten around to seeing it. The movies were due back tonight and I still hadn’t watched “Proof,” so I popped it in to watch it before taking it back.

The movie is based on a Pulitzer Prize-winning play, one I’m sure would completely overwhelm me if I ever saw it in person. It’s the story of Catherine, the daughter of Robert, a math genius who developed schizophrenia about the time he was her age. Catherine has inherited his knack for math, and is seeking proof that she hasn’t also inherited his psychological tendencies. One of his former doctoral students, Hal, is also seeking proof, proof that Robert did something amazing in his lucid moments at the end of his life, proof that he himself is not a complete wash in the world of mathematics. Underneath all of that is search for proof of trust, proof of love, proof that your life matters. And I related far too much to all of that.

I have sat curled up in an old sweatshirt on the couch too late at night afraid that I’m going crazy, that depression is going to get the better of me and that I’ll lose whole days. I’ve made myself sick trying to prove that I’m good at what I do for a living. I’ve reached out almost desperately at times for proof that I can trust others with the most intimate parts of me. And I’ve had people in my life who doubted each and every one of those things about me, just as Catherine’s sister so expertly personifies. There were times I wanted to put my hands through the TV screen and hit her or grab her and shake her. Doubt is a very effective villain.

And with all of that swimming around in my head and my heart tonight, I just needed to drive. I needed to mindlessly go somewhere so that my brain would stop going in circles. City driving doesn’t cut it. It was going to have to be the interstates. But I have responsibilities to keep me here, for now. But one of these days, I just might not come home.