Decompression driving

How my commute helps me wind down my anxiety

Some days I leave work in such a stressed out frenzy that I feel like my brain is going to buzz straight out of my skull. My body is tense and my chest is tight and my thoughts are tangled and frustrated. It’s on these days that I’m thankful for my hour long commute home.

Some days (mostly mornings), I really hate the long slog to and from work, but on days where my soul feels compacted, I need the time in the car to unwind, to decompress from work. My decompression usually looks two different ways, and they are complete opposites of each other.

The first way is in complete and utter silence. I just focus on (1) driving and (2) allowing my brain to wander and work through the knotted web of thoughts and frustrations. It’s like mentally detangling a necklace that has been rolled into knots over and over again.

Driving in silence may feel sociopathic to some people, but when you’re overwhelmed and overstimulated, sometimes the quiet, small, and safe space of your car gives you room to think and breathe. It’s often when I’m driving in silence that some of my best thoughts and ideas come to me, so when I’m really pent up and frustrated, the silence also lets me work through everything that’s bothering me.

Sometimes I’m mentally playing out scenarios of things I’m frustrated by, or sometimes I’m just replaying things that happened that day, or sometimes I’m creating a list of things I need to get done.

Occasionally thoughts like these can make me more stressed out, but I’ve also found that when I haven’t had much time to let my brain wander, it needs this quiet to just live and explore on its own.

The other way that I decompress is by rolling the windows down and turning the volume up on my playlist of alternative and indie rock remixes. My favorites are this remix of Hallucinogenics by Matt Maeson and this remix of Next Year by Two Door Cinema Club.

Listening to these songs made me understand people who really pump up the bass in their car. When the bass is heavy, the beat of the song radiates through your body. It’s as if your heart no longer has to think about how fast to go. Your body surrenders to the music, pulsing in time with the rhythm.

Unlike the other form of decompression, this one does not require me to think. It just requires me to let go. Even the automatic processes of my body feel a sense of relief because the music is guiding the way. Sometimes I feel the urge to laugh, so I let myself laugh. And when I feel the urge to cry or scream, I do that too. I don’t hold anything back or in, I let my car be a vessel for expression.

The common thread in these situations is that I have to let myself surrender to something else. I either have to let go of the intense control that I hold over my brain, or I have to let go of the intense control that I hold over my body. We can only contain ourselves for so long before something has to give, and these are the moments that I let myself seep from the box that I’m normally squished inside.

Now, do I always arrive home feeling positive and refreshed? No, definitely not. But the drive allows me to decompress some, so I don’t come home and misdirect my frustration and anxiety onto my family or loved ones. The drive gives me time to stretch all the mental muscles and grease all the creaky hinges, so I can go back to my personal life feeling some separation from the anxieties and frustrations of work.

All that being said, if someone offered me a job closer to my house, I’d probably take it. I’ll find some other way to decompress.

-WER