It Started With the School Bus
November 22, 2023
Writer: Samantha Luper
Editor: Lily Miro
I used to love taking the bus to school. As that big, blocky, yellow vehicle pulled around the corner, I excitedly prepared myself for time spent talking and laughing with friends.
If I had to pinpoint the moment that all changed, it would be this—
It was Ms. Nevin’s second-grade class. A random Tuesday at the end of the school day. I really have to pee. Just wait until you are at your art class because you're about to leave. A few minutes later, my art class teacher introduced us to what we were doing. I really have to pee. Just wait until she finishes telling everyone the directions. I really have to pee, but I don’t want to interrupt. I don’t know what to do. A few minutes later, I just can’t wait anymore. A yellow puddle pools at my feet. “Sorry, I had an apple juice in my pocket that spilled,” I explained. I grab paper towels and start to clean up the mess.
After this moment, my fear of the school bus became official. Initially, peeing your pants and taking the bus may not seem connected, but to me, they were. My stomach churned at the thought of having to be on a bus where I had no clue how long the ride was going to take or if the driver would stop if I had to pee. I was scared of the possibility of being forced to advocate for myself. I didn’t want to be “annoying” and force others to accommodate my tiny bladder, especially if that meant causing an entire bus to pull over just so that I could pee.
My mom would drive me to school when she could, but I couldn’t avoid it forever. Just as I finally became comfortable with my bus route to school, I noticed my worries spreading to other aspects of my life. I broke down into tears when the school practiced lockdown drills because I was scared that I would have to pee and not be able to go. I hated being stuck in traffic, unsure of how long it would be until I could get to a bathroom if needed. I dreaded school field trips when the bus rides were triple the length to and from school. When other people saw me crying on the bus, or when I told my friends about the fear, it seemed irrational. In reality, though, there was a more profound and much more common basis behind the worries. I was afraid of how others perceived me and of not being in control.
The anxiety continued to consume me, and my parents noticed I was struggling. That was when I started with my first therapist. Despite her not being a good fit for me as I grew older, she provided valuable skills and coping mechanisms that continue to be the basics of dealing with anxiety, even in the present. She encouraged me to push outside my comfort zone and slowly start to do things even if they made me nervous (I had to take the bus daily). And she provided me with three main tools to use when feeling anxious: deep breathing, positive thinking, and distraction.
Even though I no longer get nervous riding big, yellow school buses, I continue to struggle with anxiety, and I’m constantly finding new ways to manage it. The wisdom I gained from my first therapist continues to be the tools that I revert to. Focusing on my breathing, challenging negative thoughts, and trying new things despite my fears have helped me manage overthinking and persistent worrying.
Image: Ava Edwards
