I had a busy weekend. A little too busy: two lengthy middle school jazz performances (one on Friday night, another on Saturday night), a 5:30 am wakeup call to get my daughter to a crew training day on Sunday morning, my son’s soccer game on Saturday, another crew practice (for my daughter) also on Saturday, and all the usual crapola (grocery shopping, laundry, blah blah blah). You may notice that none of the above was really for me. It was just one of those weekends.
And honestly it was kinda stressful.
So while driving to one of these many activities (the second performance), I found myself in the middle of a blowout fight with my husband Josh. I honestly can’t even remember what it was about. For various reasons, we had both just reached our individual breaking points with all that we had going on during the weekend – and with all the other stuff in life (jobs, household stuff, whatever).
I had a moment where all I could think about was this scene from the movie Crazy, Stupid Love.
I somehow managed to refrain from opening the door and free-falling out of the car, but at the first stop sign, I opened the door and got out. I really wanted to stop arguing, and since I couldn’t walk away, this seemed like a great solution. It was. Josh stepped on the gas and roared off, and I was left in blissful silence.
Of course I still wanted to see the show, so I pulled out my phone and reviewed my rideshare options. The closest Lyft driver was a mere 2 minutes away, so I summoned Lyft through the app, took a few deep breaths, and tried to calm down.
When the car arrived, I was still a little flustered. I got in and tried to act normal, but it was hard. The driver was super nice, and asked me if I was okay. When I said no, not really, he responded by saying:
Do you want to talk about it?
I realized that I did.
I told him the whole story, which lasted for about the length of our seven-minute ride. He was awesome: he was a great listener, had some thoughtful insights, and didn’t take sides. At the end of my story, I felt SO much better. I really had just needed to vent.
I thanked him, and he laughed.
“This was actually my first Lyft drive.”
I started laughing as well. We agreed that he would have a great story to tell. We also agreed that if he needed a career change, he would make a fantastic therapist.
That got me to thinking: why not? Next time I need to talk to someone, I might just call a Lyft! It’s (relatively) cheap, you likely won’t see your driver ever again, and you could multitask by riding to the dry cleaners or something.
Have you ever used Lyft as therapy? What was the craziest Lyft ride you ever had?