What if a bus were my therapist?

“You need a check-up from the neck-up,” said Saturday Night Live’s fictional self-help guru Stuart Smalley, if memory serves. Ever self-aware—painfully so—he was gazing at himself in the mirror, at the time. 

I relate. Don’t we all? But some of us are too busy parenting the next generation, changing the world one bus lane at a time, or getting regular mani-pedis to be able to attend regular therapist sessions. What’s the solution? Let me suggest that maybe, just maybe, a public transit bus could be your therapist. I don’t mean you pay to get on, then sit there looking out the window and wondering what you’re doing with your life. No. I mean the bus is your guide, your analyst, your shrink. 

Does that sound far-fetched? Let me make my case.

There are so many commonalities! For one thing, I only ever spend quality time with a bus—or a therapist—when I really have to. They're both fine to spend time with, sure, but I can think of about 47 things I'd rather be doing. Things that don’t involve being crammed into a rolling box with 70 other people or feeling my feelings. 

I’d rather walk or bike to places close to my house. I jump on the bus when I need to go anywhere farther than that.

When I do partake in public transit—or therapy—it’s always worth it. Sometimes it feels like being the cork in a wine bottle, but it’s still better than bottling everything up at home. Like therapy, transit doesn’t fix everything, but it gets you moving again.

My local bus features signage telling me to Please Hold On. Only a poster of a kitten hanging in there inspires me more. 

Buses and good therapists remind us that you are not the main character. Other people exist: they’re tired, late, stressed, hopeful—just like you. A bus never pretends you’re the only one with somewhere to be.

On a recent bus ride downtown, I read the words Wait for [the] Green Light. I took this to mean that healing takes time, progress isn’t a rush job, and insight has the right-of-way. Wait—you didn’t get all that? Let me try again.

Many transit signs have a double entendre that are—for my money—particularly apt at times. Riding the bus, I recently read: Not sure you’re on the right route? I furrowed my brow. And then I looked over at a sign that asked me, Feel unsafe? Ouch. Okay, bus—no need to get personal. I’m not here for the existential reckoning. 

Listen, both therapists and transit systems are chosen by the people with privilege, and relied on most by those people society has left behind. Investing in buses—like investing in mental health—is about building a society where we don’t leave anyone behind. Cities that starve their buses are cities that don’t value social equity. They watch people’s lives fall apart, while sitting idly by (or, as luck would have it, idling in their cars).

And for those of us with privilege? Every time we—and anyone else—chooses a bus over a car, we’re choosing collective wellbeing and climate mitigation over individual escape. I’ll take that any day.

The final lesson? My local bus service has coached me on taking things as they come. Oh, you’re running late today? I might say to the bus that was supposed to arrive 13 minutes ago. Sure, sure, I’m fine to wait. Take your time. Perhaps those of us campaigning for bus lanes feel less zen, and rightly so—both about the bus that’s gone missing, and the lanes that have yet to arrive.

The truth is that—regardless of challenges—I love public transit and the long carousel of experts that I have talked to over the years; any inference otherwise is just me putting on a show. Buses (like therapists) remind us that the world doesn’t revolve around us. That’s a good thing. It’s humbling. Sometimes, you end up in places you didn’t expect, but maybe that’s the point.

Just roll with it.