Driving Therapy
A sense of calm. A sense of quiet. Driving presents a mental challenge, but one which can almost silent thoughts. London is not a driving city. Didn’t stop me.
‘I stalled my car twice today. I reminisced three years prior to this instance every time I stepped foot in the car. I remembered the memories of time past. I stared forward. Checked my mirrors and drove on.’
Driving around consistently proves an actor is clearing my thoughts — allowing me to move forward with no regrets.
Whether I enjoy the Kent Downs or the cityscape of the British capital — there are no bounds to my enjoyment.
Anyone who has driven with me knows I have road rage.
It’s hard not to, especially in London, where minicab drivers and general idiocy creates life-or-death situations.
I continue to feed the road rage because instincts, agility and rapid decision-making can make all the difference.
People’s lack of judgement and awareness is a hazard and for the safety of myself and others — I make no apologies.
Inherently with road rage comes the release of repressed anger.
I tend to think a lot on these drives, despite the wailing of music in the speakers.
I drove into London today for a meeting with the QMGS committee at university.
The drive is simple, and I drive it without any issues nowadays.
As my brain is almost in auto-pilot, I can look towards the clouds and think about the big ideas.
A topic that often comes up is my position in life.
My entitlement (although I haven’t been calling this situation as such until recently) and my progress.
The day I realised that no-one owes me anything was the best day of my life.
Since then, I have lived a conscious-clear existence. I progressed further concerning self-development in that time than any other area.
It just so happens that my hard work paid off around that time too.
A big coincidence.
I thought about it all today.
Also, I thought about the wasted time. The wasted time I continue to nurture.
The nurturing that won’t stop. I’m trying to stop, but this procrastination is getting the better of me.
Tasks sitting on my list for weeks — remain. Not done.
And as my mind works around this problem, they still sit there.
One thing that makes me think is this:
What makes the ‘theoretical’ into the ‘practical’?
Money?
Not at all. It’s time.
Not even work. Not even hard work is the difference.
It’s patience and time.
I write a blog every day. I look at statistics to measure popularity and to see if there are things I can improve on.
Main traffic comes from Instagram, but I could create another avenue for marketing — I choose not to.
Time presents a complex which I’m struggling to conquer.
Work the 9–5, that’s eight hours.
Travel each way that’s another two hours.
Ten hours.
Allow seven hours for sleep.
Seventeen hours.
I leave myself with seven hours.
Usually spent procrastinating
I’m not as productive as I may seem, mainly when I’m in a thought-provoked mood.
The results you see may be as a result of work started months ago.
These are all thoughts I have while driving.
I don’t speak to myself; instead, I dream. I think big.
All thoughts that need attention and help me with the self-appreciation and self-love.
Driving can uncover your demons and squash them in a controlled explosion.
Driving therapy.