Therapist on Two Wheels

My version of a midlife crisis didn’t involve a red Corvette—it came with handlebars and a helmet. Somewhere between raising kids and running a therapy practice, I did something wildly out of character: I signed up for motorcycle lessons.

This has been a long-standing dream, and now—firmly planted in midlife—I figured, if not now, when? Learning to ride has been equal parts thrilling, terrifying, humbling, and hilarious. It’s a full-body workout in concentration, balance, and letting go of control, especially when you're in a class full of 20-something speed demons who speak in a foreign dialect of horsepower and torque. (I might need Duolingo just to decode their conversations.)

In therapy terms, I’m dancing with my “growth edge”—safely, responsibly, and fully geared up. What’s surprised me most is how many lessons from the road translate directly to therapy, healing, and the way we navigate life.

Lesson One: Target Fixation

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One of the first things they warn you about in motorcycle training is target fixation. It’s when you fix your eyes on what you don’t want to hit—like a tree or a curb—and end up steering right into it. The brain means well, trying to protect you by focusing on danger, but ironically, that focus increases the odds of a crash. Where your eyes go, your bike (and body) will follow.

Emotionally, it’s the same. In therapy, I often help clients shift their focus away from what they fear or want to avoid and instead toward what they want to move toward: healing, connection, and purpose.

In therapy, we sometimes joke about avoiding "dead man goals." A dead person can stop drinking. A dead person can lose weight. The question isn't simply, What do you want to stop? It's What do you want to build? More meaningful relationships. More energy. Better health. More laughter. More peace. Healing isn't just moving away from pain—it's moving toward a life worth living.

Lesson Two: Countersteering and Opposite Action

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Here’s a brain teaser: to turn right on a motorcycle, you briefly press the right handlebar forward, which momentarily steers the bike left and causes it to lean right. It’s called countersteering—and it feels all wrong until it works.

In therapy, we use a similar skill called Opposite Action (from DBT). Feeling anxious and want to cancel plans? Go anyway. Feeling low and want to hide? Reach out to others and face the world. The emotional instinct pulls one way; healing asks you to go the other.

Like riding, it takes practice, trust, and a whole lot of repetition. But once you feel it working, you’ll trust it more.

Lesson Three: Suit Up—Emotionally and Literally

To stay safe on the road, a smart rider suits up—helmet, gloves, jacket, and boots. Therapy has its own version of protective gear.

Before diving into difficult memories or big emotions, we resource. We ask: What strengths, supports, and tools do you already have? What do you need to “gear up” so you can go there safely?

Just like riding gear can’t prevent every fall, emotional gear can’t prevent pain. But they can help us move through difficult experiences with greater safety, resilience, and support. In therapy, we build skills for nervous system regulation and practice using them—so when challenging moments arise, you have tools to help you stay grounded rather than becoming overwhelmed.

The goal isn’t to avoid the bumps in the road. It’s to know how to navigate them.​

The Road is the Therapy

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Motorcycle riding is teaching me more than throttle control and lane positioning. It’s teaching me presence, perspective, and how to lean into uncomfortable moments without panicking — Like when the bike inevitably stalls. It’s helping me trust my instincts a little more, alongside a healthy respect for the front brake lever. Therapy, honestly, is no different. We learn how to move through difficult moments with support, tools, and a little more grace. Like learning how to brake smoothly (which I have yet to master), or how to pick up your bike — and your dignity — after dropping it.

So if you’re navigating your own midlife plot twist (motorcycle optional), therapy can be your training ground. We practice. We gear up. And most importantly, we keep our eyes on where we want to go. Because where you look—really look toward—is where you’ll end up.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a helmet to buckle, a curve to lean into, and just enough sense to try and keep the rubber side down.

Throttle on,

Mandy