A Glimpse Beyond the Door

Every time I get behind the wheel of a car, my heart starts pounding. I feel the breaths that tighten in my chest, my hands desperately gripping the steering wheel. I constantly tell myself that I can do this, that I am in control.

Maybe I struggle with this crippling fear of driving because so many people in my family have been in multiple car accidents. From minor fender benders to more serious incidents that left their vehicles totaled.

Or maybe I'm afraid because my dad used to fall asleep at the wheel. I remember countless car trips that had me fearing for my life because my dad refused to pull over and let my mother drive. Even when we started veering off the road. Even when we cried and begged him to. He would roll the window down to help him stay awake (it never did) and I would hear the cars speeding past on the highway, feel the wind pushing against our van, see the lights rushing past us... And I would wonder, is this the end?

Or perhaps my fear of driving stems from the times that my parents would argue in our vehicle. My dad would get angry and then he would drive recklessly. The trees would pass by in a blur, my mother screaming for him to slow down, and I would feel so helpless. I worried that we would never reach our destination and that we would end up in a twisted piece of metal wrapped around a tree or that we would die in a fiery car crash.

Every time I get behind the wheel of a car, I hope that it will get easier, that I can put my past behind me and not be held captive by my nightmares and the anxiety that threatens to unleash the panic that I barely keep at bay.

I hate that driving is such an ordeal and that the first thing I say when I park my car is, "I made it."