Intersections/Introspections

I’ve always been a sensitive girl. Just the slightest hint of criticism or a “mean tone” in another person’s voice when talking to me would cause an avalanche of tears to pour out of me. When I started learning to drive with my father, still an ongoing thing, that sensitivity became a huge problem; what I didn’t realize was an experience lingering from my younger years would become an even worse one.

It’s the last year of middle school. The days when everyone was still reeling from the realization that we may not see each other for a long time due to the pandemic and quarantine. I took it as well as any wallflower would, not really caring because that just meant I wouldn’t have to be forced into being social. The only times I cared about going anywhere or doing anything was whenever I got to go places with my father and brother in our old, sort of dingy, gray car that had been in our family since before I was born– those days in that old, dingy car were finally over, however, when my father finally took us to our local dealership to trade it in for a shinier, red one. I didn’t care that much, the way the car looked wasn’t what mattered but the way it made me feel like a bird soaring through the sky if I closed my eyes and relaxed a little, not a care in the world, younger me. That’s what I was doing while we were driving back home from the dealership, but besides that, all I can ever remember about that drive back is when we were about two minutes away from our house, my eyes were closed– I was tired– and all I could hear was my father making a sudden noise and then feeling him put his hand in front of my body to protect me from what I didn’t know was another car that flew right past a stop sign and crashed into the side of our new, shiny, red car. I recall seeing black for about a minute before I gained any sort of consciousness and was able to get out of the car, my body aching and vision blurry (no major injuries for my family and me, however, our luck I suppose) and a dozen people crowded around to see what happened and if we were okay. I just sat on the curb and cried for my father, holding onto my right ear which was scratched and bleeding, and trying to comfort my little brother. Forgetting that day came easily, my mind was eager to push past the terribleness that marked the day, but unfortunately, remembering came as easily as forgetting.

I’m pretty sure during the first three or so weeks of learning how to drive I cried a total of ten times. Some of those times were over being reprimanded for tiny mistakes (failing to park in empty lots because of wrong moves at the wheel or forgetting to use my turn signals while driving on school grounds on a Saturday when the place is a ghost town), others because of mistakes that could’ve turned into major, if not fatal, issues– take, for example, almost hitting a man crossing the road because he ran out in front of me, or narrowly missing hitting a car that drove through the space I was trying to park, that one took something out of me and my mind flashed back to the exact moment on the day of the car crash, right before the car flew past the stop sign and hit our car. It caused the floodgates to open up even more than the other times I cried while driving, I didn’t know what to do with myself or how to feel.

I came to a quick conclusion after that crying session: my sensitivity and constant need to be over-emotional needed to change, at least while driving. My father would try his best to comfort me but it would never work and even if it did, my father wouldn’t always be in the car with me for the rest of my driving life, and if I continue feeling this way while on the road I could be putting lives in danger, including my own. Taking steps to change was hard, trust me, it was, and it took a lot out of me to become less sensitive, however, I got around to it. I looked up tips and tricks online– my history becoming littered with searches such as “how to stop crying while driving” and “showing less emotion on the road”. Most of the suggestions didn’t work so I devised a trick of my own; whenever I felt like crying while driving, I would think of if it was worth the risk I was putting myself and other people in and if the tears were worth the danger of blurry vision whilst driving. Another thing that helped was wondering if the driver who hit my family and I’s car was crying and that’s why they missed their stop sign, they couldn’t see properly– of course, it’s more likely they were inebriated or in a rush, but it’s the possibility that matters the most to me; I would never want to cause the kind of car-related trauma I have for other people with my emotions, and that motivates me the most out of all the tips and tricks that have been thrown my way in my weeks of learning how to drive.

I suppose getting a driving education from my father showed me how important it is to actually know the rules of the road, more important than actually knowing how to maneuver a car is, although that’s still something to know for sure. When you get a proper driving education it helps to lessen the number of casualties that result from driving; you learn what signs mean, the proper speeds to go at, right-of-way, et cetera– all things that lessen the percentage of accidentally hitting a pedestrian or crashing into another vehicle, thus lessening the amount of deaths. For me, other than regulating my emotions, some steps I’ve taken to reduce the number of deaths on the road are always checking my mirrors whenever I can, being extra cautious while driving in intersections and past side streets while going straight, and using my turn signals whenever I have to make a turn or have to park.

My sensitivity and past haven’t stopped me from driving. I’m determined to make sure they never will, even though at the end of the day I’m an emotional person by nature I’ve learned to prevent that from affecting me on the road with emotional regulation and proper driving education, something everybody could use no matter who you are or what you’re afflicted with– because, at the end of the day, driving shouldn’t come at the cost of a life.