The Hidden Mental Health Benefit of Commuting Nobody Talks About
An examination of how commitments contribute to your concept of self
This is the first in a series of posts that explore the self, a core lifesmithing concept.
Imagine you download an app that shows you a visual representation of your concept of self. After calibrating, you see what appears to be a miniature ball bearing, smooth and serene. It's not as exciting as you imagined. The reviews made it sound more interesting. You notice a zoom setting, so you tick it up a notch.
You notice now that it's actually kind of bumpy. It looks like a Nerds gummy cluster—irregular bumps around an obscured center. It's also moving. Some bumps expand while others contract. Some are fixed in place while others pulse or vibrate.
I call these bumps the many facets of the self.
Every facet represents a commitment. At home, your family facets grow while others recede. At work, a large facet takes over. Hang out with friends, and dormant facets spring to life and take on a vibrant pulse. Return home and they slow down and contract.
Each commitment you make creates a relationship between your self, an outcome, and the system to which it was made—whether that's another individual, an organization, or your self. Over time, satisfying commitments encourages distinct facets of the self to develop.
Let's say you want to be a musician. The desire to do so is not enough. It makes no bump in your gummy cluster. It requires making and satisfying commitments to that pursuit before you can call your self a musician. Whether you're good doesn't matter—poor musicians exist. Play once and you're not a musician. Play a hundred times? Probably. Stop playing for a decade? Your facet diminishes.
An individual's job is one of the primary commitments most adults make, consuming nearly a quarter of your life and significantly shaping your self-concept.
How you frame this relationship matters. Some relate their job to a commitment to family, which can justify overwork while damaging those very relationships. Others identify deeply with their profession—seeing themselves as journalists, doctors, or engineers—creating vulnerability if that profession changes or disappears.
Neither approach is wrong. There is value in contributing your best at work and giving full attention to your family. What's critical is your ability to transition effectively between these facets—to ground yourself as you move from one commitment to another.
While often seen as a burden, the daily commute paradoxically offers an opportunity for this very grounding.
The facet of my self that drives from one place to another is shockingly close to my core. I know where I'm going. I know how get there. I'm confident and in complete control of my actions. I can choose to run errands, make phone calls, or listen to a podcast, music, or an audiobook. If I desire, I can even choose silence. No matter the activity, it provides a chance to decompress so that by the time I reach my destination I'm fully who I need to be when I get there. I can choose which thoughts to let in and which to discard.
Yet there is a downside: the ease at which external noise can penetrate this otherwise personal space.
A commute bombards our focus which intrudes on our sense of self. There are the obvious—bombastic billboards and charged interactions with other driver's horns and fingers. This external stimuli is then augmented by the audio we choose: advertisements on the radio, varying quality and content of audiobooks, and the potential reality distortion of podcasts. Even calling a friend or family member, while beneficial, may come at the expense of spending time with your self.
Despite the frustrations many associate with commuting—time lost, traffic stress, environmental impact—this transitional space offers something increasingly rare: an opportunity for uninterrupted presence with your self.
A commute is a microcosm of the self. You've got limited options but they're all yours. Every decision comes with a commitment which, when satisfied, strengthens that facet. If you're listening to philosophy podcasts, you'll strengthen your philosopher facet. If you're listening to Taylor Swift, you'll strengthen your Swiftie facet. If you're listening to nothing at all, it's time spent with your self. Whether these choices are positive or negative is a subjective assessment only you're qualified to make. But ask your self, do your choices align with the core of your being?
There's a reason people swear by their morning routine. They begin each day by satisfying a commitment to their self. It's a daily practice of being. It's also why people introduce affirmations—positive thoughts—into them. It's not only the content of the affirmations that give them power, it's the repeated commitment and satisfaction of the routine. The morning is a chance to live as close to your core sense of self as you are able. Missing it is worse than missing an appointment with your dearest friend. The more you miss, the more the facet diminishes.
I'm not suggesting everyone return to the office five days a week. The nature of an activity should determine the environment in which it's done. What I am inviting you to consider is how distinct boundaries affect your ability to shift between facets of your self.
The physical act of commuting allows your work facet to properly contract while your home facet expands—a transition far more profound than simply closing a laptop.
If you're struggling with work bleeding into home life, try running a simple experiment rather than attempting a permanent change. Commit to a one-week test: Drive to work for a week. If you're fully remote, set up a dedicated workspace at home and introduce a small "commute-like" routine—perhaps a 10-minute walk—to signal the shift between your work self and home self.
These short-term experiments are far more effective than dramatic habit overhauls. They allow you to observe the effects on your sense of self with minimal disruption, and you can adjust based on what you learn.
In our hyperconnected world, what small experiment might help you create the space to remember who you truly are, beyond the ever-shifting facets of your commitments?
Now I want some nerds!