I’m fascinated by high speed chases. I identify with the insanity of the driver, who despite the fact that he will not escape, can’t surrender. He drives up and down the freeway, with no hope of a good outcome. He can’t win, but he can’t yield. I understand. I used to be a fighter, my mother was my favorite opponent. She was fierce, and my trainer. She did not want a timid, shy daughter. She insisted that I step out of my mouse hole, and stand in my power. I learned how to fight. I would take on any cause, especially the plight of the underdog. I was the defender. I was a force to be reckoned with, but I was never going to win a battle against my mother. Eventually, she would tire of me and lock me out of her bedroom. She knew my weak spot. Once she shut me out, all I wanted was to get through that locked door, and back in her good graces. The warrior in me yielded. I hated how it felt at first, but then I realized how wonderful it was to just surrender. I had gotten stuck in a war, I no longer cared about winning. I never knew how to stop once the adrenaline took over. Battles take a lot of energy, so I pick mine very carefully. When I see the helicopters circling, I stand down. Justified insanity can keep me on that freeway a long time. I choose to guard my sanity. If I have to take a stand, I make sure it’s a battle worth fighting for.