Vroom, Vroom

I don’t like driving. I can count the number of times I’ve done it on two hands (counting the times as a teenager and recently). I don’t like that I have a hard time seeing the lines on the road (I’m short), that I have a hard time judging the size of things (let alone a car), and that I can’t control other drivers (who can be terrifying). I don’t like being in control of such a gigantic and potentially destructive machine. Part of this dislike comes from being hit by a car when I was in college. The rest comes from my general anxiety and perfectionism.

I feel like I can’t control enough variables when I’m driving. Sure, I can control myself, but I can’t control my surroundings and I hate that feeling. I also can’t control if something goes wrong with the car. Worrisome. I get that you can’t live a life that’s completely controlled – well, you might be able to live one that’s mostly controlled, but I can’t even fathom how boring that would be – and it normally doesn’t bother me that much. There’s just something about driving that trips all of my anxiety sensors.

I am getting better about it, though. I don’t have terrifying nightmares where I am driving and inevitably lose control or drive off of a cliff. I don’t completely shutdown at the thought of getting behind the wheel. I actually got my permit and have driven on the road. I have gotten a car (via my uncle) and my goal is to get my license by the time my permit expires in October.

I can do this.

Even though I don’t like it, even though it makes me nervous, I can do it.



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