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Back in 2021, finding an Uber in Rapid City, South Dakota, was practically impossible. I learned this not-so-fun fact while checking into an airport hotel that summer — and let’s just say I did not take it well. I was in town to run a half-marathon in Deadwood, about 40 miles from the Fairfield Inn. I had planned to take a ride-hailing service or taxi the next day, but the friendly receptionist informed me that this was a no-go.
“You should just drive there,” she offered. “It’s easy.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Really?”
Really. I explained that I live in New York City, where public transportation is the only reasonable and economical way to get from point A to point B. “I’ve been there so long that I don’t even remember how to change lanes!” I shrieked. That was only a surface-level excuse. The truth is far more shameful: I am terrified to drive, and it’s hindered my entire adult life.
I do know how. I actually possess a New York driver’s license, but only for state ID purposes. The renewal process requires checking obligatory boxes; if I ever had to take a road test, I would be laughed out of the DMV. The only time I’ve been behind the wheel since 2010 was following a late-night screening at the Sundance Film Festival in Utah, where I had to put my friend’s car in reverse so he could push it out of a snowbank. Otherwise, zippo.
The irony: I grew up in the Motor City. But while my friends counted down the days until they turned 16, I’d have sooner asked the star football player who didn’t know my name on a date than drive myself to the closest 7-Eleven. I’m an idiot in a pink bedroom, I often told myself. I’m not emotionally equipped to operate heavy machinery.
The trepidation crept into my psyche from the very start: I still recall my driver’s-ed teacher — who my friend Debbie swore was “totally chill!” — pumping his brake and shouting when I timidly turned the wrong way onto a one-way street. As a licensed driver, I crashed the car twice, peeling out of our neighborhood. These accidents only heightened my anxiety and aversion, as I refused to merge onto a freeway for fear of certain high-speed death. When I landed a prized summer internship at a newspaper in downtown Detroit, my mom paid my cousin to chauffeur me.
I rationalized that I was doing the world a favor by not cruising around in my old beat-up Chevy. But I should have course-corrected in the ’90s. “Specific phobias tend to start in childhood or adolescence and remain the same if we don’t get treatment,” says Dr. Gail Saltz, an associate professor of psychiatry at NewYork-Presbyterian Hospital and Weill Cornell Medicine. My version of treatment: Moving to a city where no sane person owns a car. Thanks to blessed taxis, subways, buses and Nikes, I could avoid my phobia. The end. I drove less and less when I visited my parents in Detroit and eventually phased it out altogether.
Once again, I was wrong. “The more you avoid, the more you reinforce the fear, the more anticipatory fear you develop,” says Dr. Saltz. “Then the phobias may present a greater challenge in life as we age and feel more disruptive and problematic.”
My problems came to a head during my recent 14-year quest to run a half-marathon in every state. I assumed my biggest challenge would be persevering through altitude sickness in Colorado or brain-boiling heat in Hawaii. It turned out to be navigating the country without visiting a single car-rental office. I resorted to crazy-desperate solutions. Yes, that was me approaching strangers for a ride before dawn in a West Virginia hotel lobby and walking along the shoulder of a highway at night in Mississippi. As for the Uber situation in South Dakota? That same receptionist took pity on me and gave me a lift to Deadwood. Yup.
After wrapping up my 50-state half-marathon adventure, I obsessed over my next long-term project. I’m on the verge of turning 50, after all. Something ultra-significant was in order. Then, as I recounted my travels to friends, I sheepishly realized that my triumphant races were overshadowed by the stress of logistics. How much longer could this go on? What if there was an emergency and I needed to drive?
So, I’ve decided it’s finally time to summon my inner control freak and make my life easier. All I have to do is conquer my most challenging fear.
It’s possible. At least, medically speaking. “Most specific phobias respond well to cognitive-behavior therapy approaches such as structured desensitization and exposure therapy,” says Dr. Saltz. In fact, she adds, the constant dread in my head is scarier than any reality. “We only stay anxious for a matter of minutes when confronted with a fear. If you can have tools to manage the anxiety, tolerate it, have it pass and not be flooded into a panic state, then you will be less anxious the next time.”
Step one to tackling any phobia is taking tiny, incremental steps. For me, that means talking about getting behind the wheel without breaking into a sweat and breathing like I’m about to cross a finish line. “Imagine driving, discuss driving, play video games of sitting in a car and driving,” recommends Dr. Saltz. These kinds of coping skills can also build up tolerance to the fear. Then, I just gotta do it. A parking lot here, a left turn there. “Exposing yourself to smaller amounts and escalating amounts of the feared thing while working to relax or calm yourself is what helps resolve the fear.”
To be honest, I’ve had to stop writing this essay twice and lie down to calm my nerves. I’m not 100 percent certain I can do this. But I want to. I want to know the experience of climbing into the front seat of a car and taking myself to a destination without all-consuming thoughts of doom — maybe even listen to music and use the Waze app for the first time. There’s freedom in relying on yourself instead of a paid driver or public transit. Besides, I truly believe that overcoming my driving phobia would be the best 50th birthday gift I could ever give myself.
Now, if somebody could just talk to my parents about overcoming their phobia of letting me use the car...
Is there a fear YOU plan to conquer after age 50? Or at any age? Let us know in the comments below.
Dilek Baykara
Follow Article Topics: Wellness