The Morning That Tested My Patience
The day started like any ordinary day, except that I was running ten minutes late for an earlier than usual morning dental appointment.
I’m usually a careful driver, law-abiding, calm, the type that signals even when turning into an empty parking lot. But that morning, I was trying to beat the clock.
Fifteen minutes into my drive, I got stuck between two vehicles: a Toyota SUV in front of me and a large trailer to my left. They seemed to be moving in slow motion, side by side, like two colleagues heading to the same meeting, neither wanting to arrive before the other.
I stayed patient for a while, driving slightly below the speed limit. Then I glanced at the clock and realized I was losing my ten-minute grace window. My patience cracked.
I tried to move behind the trailer, it wouldn’t budge. I slipped back behind the Toyota, still boxed in. That’s when I noticed it: both drivers seemed to be slowing down intentionally.
For five long minutes, I sat there fuming in my car, muttering curses under my breath like a sinner who didn’t want to be caught.
When the trailer finally sped off, I saw my chance. I overtook the SUV, slow enough to glance at the driver and give him the death stare. It was my silent way of saying, “You, sir, are the reason I might lose my appointment and my sanity.”
To my surprise, it was a man, well-dressed, mid-50s maybe, phone to his ear, completely unbothered. He looked right back at me with a smirk.
The audacity. I felt my blood rise. How dare he play traffic police and talk on the phone while doing it?
But I had a dental chair waiting, so I drove off—angry, late, and strangely unsettled.
The Elevator Moment
When I pulled into the clinic parking lot, guess who parked right beside me? The same SUV. I rushed in, pretending not to notice. But as I walked toward the elevator, I heard footsteps behind me—his.
By the time we both stepped into the elevator, I was on full alert. My inner voice whispered, He’s following you. Maybe he’s one of those angry drivers who want revenge.
I glanced at him, hoping to meet his eyes, to show I wasn’t intimidated. He avoided my gaze. The elevator door opened; we both stepped out.
I was already rehearsing my confrontation in my head when the nurse said, “Good morning, Doctor,” and smiled warmly at him.
He smiled back and went straight into one of the rooms.
I froze.
The man who’d played traffic games, smirked at me, and made me question my sanity wasn’t a random driver. He was the doctor. My doctor—or at least, one of the clinic’s. The professional. The calm authority figure society tells us to trust.
The same man about to fix someone’s teeth, or maybe deliver calm wisdom to his patients.
The Paradox of the Well-Adjusted Man
On the surface, he was everything society applauds: educated, well-groomed, professional. But that morning, behind the wheel, he was something else entirely, a petty, passive-aggressive stranger with a need to control.
And that’s what unsettled me most. Because it wasn’t about the road anymore. It was about how many of us wear civility like a costume.
We’ve all seen it:
- The “good” man who terrorizes his family behind closed doors.
- The charming coworker who manipulates everyone while smiling through meetings.
- The polite neighbor who calls the police on a Black child selling lemonade.
We excuse these behaviors because the people committing them seem normal. Because they look respectable, have degrees, and pay taxes. Because they fit into our definition of “safe.”
But civility can be a disguise. Behind it, unresolved impulses simmer—jealousy, insecurity, fear, superiority—waiting for the right traffic jam to emerge.
Education Doesn’t Heal the Subconscious
There’s a dangerous myth that education and career success are indicators of good character. We assume that a man in a suit can’t be toxic. That a woman with a graduate degree can’t be emotionally abusive. That therapy is for the “weak,” not the accomplished.
But the truth is, the subconscious doesn’t care about your LinkedIn profile or your paycheck. It doesn’t care how many degrees you’ve earned.
If you haven’t dealt with your insecurities, your need for control, your unhealed childhood wounds, they will find their way out. Sometimes on the road. Sometimes in relationships. Sometimes in the worst possible headlines.
We’ve seen “good” men murder their families.
We’ve seen “respected” professionals commit unspeakable acts.
We’ve seen “normal” women weaponize tears to justify harm.
And still, we whisper, “How could such a good man do that?”
Maybe because “good” isn’t the same as healed.
We All Need Therapy
When I replayed that morning in my head, I realized something uncomfortable: I wasn’t just angry at him. I was angry because he mirrored a part of me I didn’t like.
The impatient, reactive, ego-driven part that shows up when life pushes me too far.
That’s when I understood—therapy isn’t for the “crazy.” It’s for the aware.
It’s for people willing to pause, reflect, and understand why they react the way they do.
It’s not just about fixing trauma; it’s about understanding it.
It’s not about labeling ourselves; it’s about learning our emotional patterns.
- When we understand our triggers, we stop projecting them onto others.
- When we name our emotions, they lose power over our behavior.
- When we heal, we stop harming unconsciously.
Because when we don’t, those patterns take the wheel, and sometimes, they crash us into others.
Healing Over Polishing
That doctor might still believe he’s fine, and maybe he is, on the surface. But healing isn’t about appearances; it’s about awareness.
So yes, that doctor probably needs therapy. But so do I. So do you. So do all of us trying to function in a world that constantly triggers our worst instincts.
Final Reflection
If I could meet that doctor again, I’d probably still roll my eyes—but I’d also tell him: “We’re both human. We both need to slow down.”
We don’t need more people who look put together.
We need people willing to do the inner work to stay put together.
Therapy isn’t about fixing what’s wrong with us—it’s about discovering what’s buried beneath the “I’m fine.”
Call to Action:
If you’ve ever found yourself reacting in ways that surprised even you, take that as your cue. Explore therapy. Reflect before projecting. We don’t need to be perfect; we just need to be conscious.
💬 What’s one moment that made you realize you might need therapy too? Share it in the comments below or join the conversation on Ms. Normal.
