Conquering My Everest: Driving Anxiety

This is a blog post that quite honestly, I never thought I’d be able to share. In February, at 27 years of age, I passed my driving test.

It took more lessons than I care to count (I hate to think about the money I’ve chucked at this), nine years (with an eight year break), and five tests. But I did it. I finally conquered my Everest.

Kind of, anyway. Now that I’m trying to get used to driving without my instructor in the passenger’s seat, I’ve come to realise that I’ve got a long way to go. To refer back to the Everest metaphor, I’m still sitting in my tent at Base Camp, scared to tackle the summit. But I’ve made it this far so I can’t quit now – as much as I’ve wished I could at times over the past few weeks…

I’ve documented my struggle with learning to drive in a previous blog post and when I published that post, I was surprised at how many people contacted me to let me know that they battled driving anxiety too.

As much as I empathise with all my fellow steering-challenged internet friends, it does bring me a selfish level of comfort to know that there are more of us out there. We exist, stranded on the edges of society (sometimes quite literally, when the bus home doesn’t turn up), quietly relying on the horror that is public transport and frequently dumbstruck at the abilities of the rest of the world.

If you’re a born driver, you won’t get it. But for those of us who can’t – and often, don’t actually WANT to do it – driving is a Big Scary Thing.

Driving test nerves

I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve got some sort of driving phobia that I’ll most likely have to contend with for the rest of my life. My body temperature soars when I get in the driver’s seat, my mouth goes dry and my legs shake uncontrollably. It even happens when I try to visualise a route, which I have to do in order to prepare myself to tackle a new one.

I’ve got a sat nav, but I can’t bring myself to rely on it in case it distracts me and I accidentally swerve and crash.

Strangely, I only experienced slight nerves when my instructor was there to guide me, so I think my driving anxiety symptoms are rooted in a lack of confidence in what might happen when I’m entirely responsible for the vehicle. Fun, eh?

Driving anxiety got the better of me during my first four tests, which I cried almost all the way through, but on the morning of my fifth and final test, something just felt different.

I’m one of those people who needs to back themselves more, and I was never going to pass until I actually told myself I could. I don’t know what came over me, but for an hour or so that day, I decided I could do it. I took two Kalms, my legs were still trembling and I was still terrified, but I pushed myself and passed.

I cried tears of relief. I think my instructor was near tears too. In fact, so was the examiner. He’d gotten to know me during one of my previous (failed) tests, during which I probably made him question his career choice. Looking back, both men were probably thrilled they’d never have to sit in a car with me again.

I wasn’t exactly exhilarated when the examiner scrawled my name on that certificate. Mostly, I was just terrified because now I’m allowed to drive. 

Finding my first car

I went to the garage with zero idea of what type of car I wanted. I couldn’t even express a preference as to what colour I had in mind. Car shopping was not an activity I ever visualised myself engaging in, and I couldn’t have cared less what my first car looked like. I

test drove some cars and it quickly became apparent that I was terrified of any vehicle that didn’t feel exactly like the car I learned in. 

Eventually I settled on a black 1.5 litre Clio, and it’s perfect for me. Not so small that I feel hideously vulnerable, but small enough to park. I insisted on getting a manual car, because for some reason I feel the need to torture myself by making everything harder than it needs to be.

Feeling the fear

The first time I drove without my instructor, I shook violently for the duration of the short trip, turned off the engine and promptly burst into tears. I sobbed for about an hour, then started all over again every time I relived it over the next few days. I can only attribute my hysterics to suddenly feeling the full weight of my newfound independence. Driving alone absolutely terrified me. I may have my licence now, but the battle is far from over.

Part of my problem with this new gift is the responsibility it brings with it. It’s going to take me some time to get used to being able to do something that has previously been ‘not for me’. I can drive now, so people will expect me to. They won’t realise how much I have to steel myself for every run, how long it takes the adrenaline to stop catapulting through my veins when the engine is switched off. They’ll expect me to zip along roads I’ve never even walked before and to just know which lane to use.

I’ve now driven about a dozen times, a few of those by myself, and I’ve worked myself into a state of panic almost every time. I considered trying Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and even thought about getting someone to hypnotise me to cure my driving phobia but I eventually concluded that this is something I’ll have to tackle on my own.

Slowly moving forward

Over the long weekend, I didn’t travel abroad. Instead, I stayed in the North East and I forced myself to drive as much as possible. I didn’t cry once. It’s such a basic thing for most people, but it’s a huge achievement for me. I even sort of, at times… enjoyed it?

A lot of people my age have ten years’ driving experience under their belts. And here’s me, cautiously steering into my first. If you only learned to drive later in life, I’m sure you can identify with how completely out of my depth I feel. Imposter syndrome isn’t just an epidemic in the workplace; I’m feeling like a massive fake on the roads right now and am just waiting to make a mistake and look around at rows of angry drivers backed up behind me, all waiting for the idiot causing a scene to get out of their way so they can all go about their days.

In case you’re struggling with anxiety about driving too, here are my tips for overcoming it

• Force yourself to drive as much as possible and do a little bit every day, when the roads are quiet.
• Make a list of places you’d like to be able to drive to and tackle them one by one, working your way up in order of how scary they are.
• Take your time. If you’re worried you’re driving too slowly, remind yourself that you’re doing your best and everyone else will just have to wait.
• Avoid caffeine and try Kalms – I definitely think those two little herbal pills helped me during my test.
• If you’re struggling post-test, ask your instructor for another lesson so you can feel more comfortable. I considered this but decided against it because I felt he was like a comfort blanket and I had to push myself outside of my comfort zone to conquer my fears.
• Take someone you trust in the car with you. My fiancé has been an angel and even when I have panicked and screamed at him, he’s kept his cool and issued ‘directions, not instructions’ as I requested.

I’m determined to beat my driving phobia. I haven’t put myself through this arduous process only to stay limited. I don’t want to be one of those drivers who will only use roads they’re familiar with. I haven’t sweated over the steering wheel only to use my new licence to get to Asda and back.

My big motivation for driving, aside from hoping it will teach me to like living in England, is that I want to do a US road trip. I want to be able to hire a car in every country I visit and see it on my own terms. It’ll take a while and I’ll have to keep pushing myself, but I’ll get there. One road at a time.

Pin this