Bruce Springsteen was once asked how he could keep writing songs about working-class people when he had become a multimillionaire.

He asked a question of his own:

Why would a multimillionaire woman still over stuff her pantry with canned goods she would never need?

“Because she grew up during the f**king Depression.” He answered.

He grew up poor, and he never forgot it.

Our past doesn’t disappear just because our circumstances change.

Springsteen said that life is like driving a car, and everyone you’ve been throughout your life is still riding with you. The scared child. The rejected teenager. The hopeful dreamer. The person who was cheated on. The one who learned to survive.

They’re all still in the car.

When I heard him say that something inside me immediately recognized it.

I shared a story from my past about my sister, and I locked in a room in a bad situation.

That little boy is one of the people in my car that Bruce was referring to.

Whether we realize it or not, much of how we react today comes from places we’re not even conscious of.

Our past continues to influence our present until we acknowledge and integrate it.

Ignoring it doesn’t make it disappear.

Those passengers don’t quietly get out of the car.

We can put duct tape over their mouths. We can turn the music up louder. We can fill the car with work, success, relationships, entertainment, food, alcohol, achievements, or endless distractions.

We can even drive faster by being busy.

But eventually those passengers begin calling out, because they don’t want to control us—they want to be heard.

I think that’s why so many people feel stuck.

They normalize judgement of themselves for anxiety, anger, fear, people-pleasing, perfectionism, or shame, never realizing those reactions may simply be old passengers who have been trying to get their attention for years.

The beautiful news is that there are answers.

Healing often begins with something very simple:

Acknowledging that those passengers are there and welcoming back the parts of ourselves we’ve been shushing, numbing, or trying to leave behind.

An example of what to do with the past that is healthy:

I recently watched a movie about Bruce Springsteen’s life, and one thing stood out to me.

He didn’t create those songs by accident.

He had to dig deeply into himself and face painful parts of his story.

He was in and out of therapy for over 40 years.

The result wasn’t just healing for him.

It became music for millions of people.

I think that’s why his songs resonate so deeply.

The people in the car helped write them.

That’s the gift of doing the work.

When we face our story instead of running from it, our pain doesn’t simply disappear—it can be transformed into wisdom, compassion, purpose, and something that helps others heal too.

That’s what happened with my past and why I became a coach.

I love helping people to stop fighting their story and start listening to it.

And like Springsteen I still get help from a therapist and a coach today, not because anything is really wrong but because there's more to uncover and I really love that.

And in doing so, I discovered a life that feels more alive than simply going through the motions.

If this resonates with you, and you’re ready to understand the passengers in your own car—not to relive the past, but to be free from letting it unknowingly drive your future—I would be honored to walk that journey with you.

Wishing you an amazing journey,

Bert