Traffic jams are frustrating no matter where — or who — you are. I live in Los Angeles, where teeth-gritting traffic is as predictable as the sun setting into the Pacific.
But after years of yelling at other drivers through my windshield, I’ve learned to (mostly) feel at ease despite dealing with intense traffic or rude drivers.
Oh, how I used to yell at other drivers. How irritated and annoyed I’d get over traffic moving so slowly. How agitated I’d become over someone cutting into my lane. How impatient I’d be with the car in front of me if I felt it wasn’t moving fast enough. Seething. Fuming. I’d arrive at work or back home all tensed up, ready to blow. “THE TRAFFIC WAS TERRIBLE!!!”
But here’s the thing: I live in LA. Traffic is a given, not a shock or surprise. For anyone living in a city, traffic is a reality at certain times of the day. We all have to deal with it. So I was getting really worked up really often. And I discovered I was the one doing it to myself.
One day while yelling expletives at my windshield (aimed at all the terrible drivers on the road, of course), I had a realization: Those other commuters were unaffected by my rage. I was the one yelling. I was the one getting angry and worked up and raising my voice. (I would literally yell, “Move it, dicknose!!” Or worse. Usually worse.) They were doing their thing in their cars — maybe listening to music, maybe talking on the phone, maybe being equally annoyed with the slow flow of traffic. One thing was for sure: My yelling at my windshield was not affecting their experience. It was only affecting mine.
I can’t tell you how profound this insight was.
Finding Serenity Behind the Wheel
We’ve all heard the serenity prayer, right? Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can and the wisdom to know the difference.
Even though it feels like I’ve heard this my whole life, it took decades behind the wheel to realize that LA traffic is a thing I cannot change. So good God, please grant me the serenity to accept it and maybe enjoy my drive rather than white-knuckling through it.
One day I made a decision. I resolved that I would not become ruffled by traffic or other drivers. Before I even left the house, I accepted that traffic would move much slower than I would like and other drivers would probably cut me off or otherwise drive in ways that displeased me. I embraced this as a fact, not an irritating potential surprise. I left a little earlier and knew what I’d be dealing with.
This made a major difference, not only in my commute, but my overall mood.
“Oh look, this wonk is cutting in right here even though there’s no room,” I might think with amusement. “So predictable! Good thing I’m comfy here in my car with a great episode of ‘This American Life’ playing.”
It sounds so simple, but accepting the reality of traffic before getting into the car makes the experience of driving in LA so much more tolerable, even pleasant. Most of the time, I can just cruise along in my little auto capsule, absorbing myself in whatever I’m listening to, and arriving at my destination calm and ready (and needing to pee. It’s Pavlovian with me, I swear.)
It’s not like I never yell at my windshield. It happens from time to time, when I’m tired and my temper is short. But it’s so much less frequent, and I’m so much happier for it.
Choose Happiness While Waiting
This approach of accepting unsurprising realities works well in other situations, too. I’m not going to be pissed and irritated when waiting in line at the DMV or at Target during the holiday season. I already know there’s going to be a line and long wait times. I knew that before I left. I accepted it and decided it wasn’t going to be a big enough deal to ruin my mood. I’m not mad that the sky is blue. It’s just a fact.
Getting worked up over something as mundane as a long line (or a flight delay, or waiting longer than you expected for a doctor’s appointment) is just a recipe for getting worked up. It makes the wait feel longer, not shorter.
So the next time you find yourself yelling at the windshield or cursing the reality of a full parking lot at the mall during the holidays, ask yourself: Who’s suffering here? And who has the power to end that suffering?