Driving: A Tale Of Fear

My greatest fear, my biggest dread, for many years was taking the test for my driver's license.
I was afraid of being embarrassed. I found it embarrassing to be in there, when I wasn't sixteen and I wasn't sixty-five. I was "old" and potentially a bad driver (I'm twenty-three). I worried that people would find out, and judge me. Driving was such a basic life skill, and I was failing at it.
I was afraid that, if anyone were to find out, they would lord it over me, that they had their licenses and I didn't, or that it took me so many times and so many years, and it was probably easier for them. I have known people who have had weird relationships with driving. One man I knew always had to drive when traveling with someone, but was once asked by his small nephew, "Why are all the jerks on the road when you drive?"
I thought of how I would feel when I finally got my license. I will finally be able to breathe, I thought. Though I knew it was an unhealthy attitude, I wanted nothing more than to "stop being a failure."
I found some measure of relief when I realized that my biggest fear was being embarrassed by failing the test. I was still afraid of embarrassment, I still felt completely unprepared, but I did not feel the same degree of panic that I had felt before. I didn't fear the physical danger of being in a wreck. I only feared the humiliation of having to be told not to turn, scaring the tester, seeing her scribbling on her clipboard, or crying when being told I had once again not passed.
Can I control my emotions? Am I going to panic? I wondered. When I've failed so many times, and hated myself for it...? I knew that my real victory would be concurring the unhealthy thought patterns of my insecure past.
The answer for me was not being "tougher" or "stronger," not being more positive, not fighting in vain to control the chaotic storm inside me. The answer was not making myself bigger, but making the problem smaller.

I have taken my driving test seven times. Twice I almost didn't "left turn yield to oncoming traffic," once the lady told me that I needed more practice to become more confident, the first time I was inexperienced and had a cocky, sarcastic tester who thought he was funny ("You can ask where we're going all you want to, but I'm not going to tell you, ha ha ha!").
Once I had another lady who made me nervous, mixed up the route she had to take me on, asked me if I had the chance to get a lot of practice, then got worked up after the test talking about all of my mistakes, including not letting someone across a crosswalk (the pedestrian was on the side of the road and was not in danger). I sat there and said, "Yes, ma'am" a lot, feeling weak and swallowing bile. She wrote the word, "Fail" with a flourish, as if in a self-righteous huff.
Another time, the lady said, "Okay, unfortunately, you didn't pass this time..." This one was nice, but I don't remember much after that.

The seventh time I took my test, last Thursday, I finally passed. I had felt totally unprepared and at a loss for what to do until about halfway through the test. Fortunately the lady didn't take off points for going below the speed limit, as the angry woman who had mixed up the route had.
After the test I wanted to keep it a secret. I wanted to lure people into underestimating me, then whip it out and shout, "Be proud of me, motherfuckers!" (though maybe not the last part, as most of my family doesn't think profanity is funny like my mom and I do). I have a perverse love of shocking people with my accomplishments, but my mother was so excited she made me call my dad, then my grandparents.
"We should have a party!" my grandmother said.
"Say, 'Are you going to buy me a car?'" my mom whispered in my ear. "Say it! Say it!"
"Are you going to buy me a car?" I asked.
"Uh...I don't think I can right now," she answered.
"You can buy me a Matchbox car," I said.
"Yeah, I can do that. What do you want, a sports car?"
"I don't care. Surprise me."
My grandfather's reaction took a more spiritual turn. "I was praying you would, Baby. I guess God answered my prayers!"
"Well, I did a little of the work too, Papa," I couldn't help but softly saying. I was a little irked, that I had almost died of fright, and God got all the credit. My family doesn't know I'm an atheist, but I try to be honest about my feelings and beliefs in a way that doesn't cause them grief.
"Yeah, you did, and I'm proud for ya," he said.
That night I got calls from an aunt and an uncle, asking what exciting news I had to tell them (my grandmother's doing). So much for stealth accomplishments.

I hadn't realized how much my worries had weighed on me. I have been more relaxed than I have in years. I had thought it would take months or years to get my license, and now, barring crashes or head injury, I may never have to take the test again. Everything seems easier to do, decisions don't seem overwhelming anymore, I feel like a whole new person. Friday I lay in the sun and took a catnap, for the first time in years. If I was in a rut before, I feel like I'm on top of a mountain now. The one thing that kept "defeating" me is now defeated.
I have learned that nothing weighs on a person more than something you want to do, feel you have to do, but makes you afraid of the consequences. Sometimes you have to go to your own death, so to speak, in order to make your life better.
I'm not sure what could have cured me of my anxieties and stress before this point, or if I will have to go through it all again for the next major goal that scares me. I have a feeling that there are lessons in all of this that I am missing, but I'm not sure if I am ready to learn them right now. I hope at least that someone out there will take something useful from my story.
 
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