17 July 2024
I had no idea that my commute was contributing to the decline in my mental health until this week. It's not the distance -between 28 or 34 miles depending on which direction you travel via my google map. I originally thought that was part of it, and it likely is. I refuse to drive I70 from Lakewood to Aurora due to the increasing number of commuters driving over 90 miles and hour and the decreasing--arguably absent--presence of police. The anxiety this combination creates has arguably caused a cornucopia of mental health issues.
This summer, I have been subbing at what I call The Pony Preschool in Arvada. As suggested, the preschool farm houses five ponies, two goats and a pig. The children are treated to daily pony rides. I signed up for this because my mental health has deteriorated at an alarming rate, and the show I picked up to direct and keep me sane this summer is not working as it should. I hoped to cleanse my palate by engaging outside of the public school system, with an independent business owner who had chosen preschool and seemed like a good person.
The choice was perfect. While the work is exhausting on my 58 year old arthritis ridden frame, my cognitive issues have quieted. I load 18 preschoolers on and off of ponies for thirty minutes of my day and my brain stops screaming. I delight in preschool speak. A very quick sampling:
Me:
Yep, you have to pull your unders all the way up after you go potty, or your shorts get bunched up.
I'm not the boss of your water bottle.
Please stop touching your brother.
Do I look like a trash can?
Is one googley eye and one paper eye OK?
The Kids:
Water is good, it tastes great and is good for us. Not like spiders.
That is my oldest parent. (It was his grandpa)
Which sister are you? ( My sister Karie and I work together, and look way too much alike).
Do you like my drawing?
I have also encountered the true meaning of leadership while at the Pony Preschool. In my building, there is a lot of finger pointing and buck passing because nobody is leading. The director of this preschool, who had at least 10 teachers in the building at the time, walked down to the horse trough to retrieve a dead mouse. I can think of many reasons that is not her job,and only one reason that is is: her school, her responsibility. The move impressed me.
That's all well and good, but it is not the thesis stated in my first paragraph.
My commute during the school year is Lakewood to Aurora. Whether I choose I 70 or not, I pass a lot of homeless folks. A Lot. There are encampments, solos, duets, folks by the hospital sleeping in a wheelchair, or under a shopping cart--which was am impressive demonstration of flexibility as I watched them unfold from under the cart.
My commute the last few weeks has been from Lakewood-Green Mountain, specifically- to Arvada. West Arvada, specifically. Specifically, 74th and Quaker. So the west edge of Arvada. I drive 6th to 93, and turn left on 64th. And I see...trees. Sky. Small businesses. School of Mines. More trees. Quiet neighborhoods. Trees. Tree lined streets. Sunshine. Commuters enjoying their own drive and not exceeding the speed limit.
Know what I do not see? Homeless folks.
It wasn't until this commute that I realized part of my commute misery is what I see along the way. I arrive at work during the school year not just physically tired, but psychologically exhausted by what I've witnessed on my drive in. I drive 50 minutes to arrive feeling like I've already worked all day. By exquisite contrast, I arrive at the Pony School feeling uplifted. Positive. Smiling.
Smiling.
Knowing I have a lovely return commute home keeps me buoyed as I schlep Biddle Bops on and off of ponies, glue colored cupcake holders to tongue depressors and escort the boy line to and from the potty and handwashing five times in three hours.
And that's really all I wanted to share today. Your commute is tied to your mental health. Sorry if you already knew that, I'm frequently late to the party.
Thank you for reading.
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