A driver heavily intoxicated with marijuana and alcohol was driving into oncoming traffic on the Taconic State Parkway in 2009 when she hit an SUV, killing herself and seven others.
Three of which were my relatives.
She was twice over the legal alcohol limit.
Certain losses are harder to understand than others as a kid. That was the case until I heard more and saw more as the anniversaries went by as I got older.
Losing three family members at the ripe age of only nine can hit you hard early on or even as late as twelve years later at 21.
It was in high school when the fear of parkways started, the inability to get into any SUV, flinching at the slightest swerve of a car, and clenching my eyes so hard when any vehicle drove next to me. There was genuine fear in any car I got into. I used to opt to take a twenty-minute walk instead of a three-minute drive for four years became exhausting. I was drained from getting caught in storms on my walks home, but I knew I felt safer than if I was in a car.
It wasn’t until everyone around me was learning how to drive, getting licenses, and their first car, that I realized what I was missing out on. A sense of freedom, not having to rely on others to go places, a place to sit when everything else around me gets too loud. But physically, I could not do it. Every time I got in the driver’s seat my vision blurred, I felt as if there was a weight on my chest, like the car was caving in on me.
I knew I wasn’t going to be able to just learn, so I finally gained the courage to ask for help. Once I got paired with an instructor trained to work with those who have driving anxiety, I began to see a glimpse of light for my future with driving. In just a month, I was driving around locally every week with a little less fear than the last. But anyone who struggles with anxiety knows, you can progress so much, yet back peddle just as quickly.
Two times, I failed my road test. My anxiety got the best of me. I couldn’t keep a grip on the steering wheel, so I shut down – tears filled my eyes the second I started the engine, and all of my driving knowledge went out the window. While I got unlucky and had a bad experience with my first examiner and a not-so-decent second, my frustration continued to grow. One woman’s decision to get in her car heavily influenced, and brought so much fear into my life that I couldn’t be like everyone else my age because of the toll it took on me both mentally and physically.
It made me question whether or not trying to face the anxiety was worth it or not. If I couldn’t pass the first or second time, why would a third be different? Were those ten one-hour lessons with an instructor worth it? What about the week I spent driving around an empty parking lot with my mother? In my head, they meant nothing if I couldn’t get a piece of plastic to grant me the right to see what it was. What I needed was a break to give myself some time to prepare for another attempt.
Fast forward two months later and I was finally ready to try again.
This time I changed my mindset. Instead of looking at it like a test, I thought about my great-grandfather, and decided I was just going to show the examiners I am safe and drive the way I remember him driving – cautiously and mindfully.
That day I passed my test and I knew it was because Grandpa Mike, Uncle Guy, and Dan were with me.
Since then, I have overcome so much of my anxiety when it comes to driving. I have a car, I drive to and from campus and work, and find more comfort than fear when sitting in the car alone. Most importantly, I overcame my biggest fear, being on a parkway on my own.
Every day I continue to throw away the fear that the woman gave to me and continue to do it for the three amazing men she took from me. In reality, the real test is being on the road every day after those green letters spell out p-a-s-s.
