There are probably greater limitations in my life but none as glaringly obvious as the lack of ability to drive a car. Below are listed all of the stumbling blocks.
I pick most things up quickly. I get to 80% faster than most people at most things.
And where I can't pick them up quickly, I grind at them, alone.
Neither of these options were available with driving.
I have to be bad at it, with a very attentive audience.
Even when I decided that I wanted to learn, I gave all of the responsibility to my partner.
If I cried, it was his fault. If I felt scared, it was his fault. If I didn't feel like going driving, he had to make me.
But the game of catch is called catch, not throw.
He had his responsibilities and I tried to give him mine as well.
Spitting the dummy
A particularly bad drive happened recently.
I said then and there that I was putting the driving journey on hold. It's too scary. The places it brings me aren't worth it.
And you know what? I have barely any memory of that scary place: it's a temporary visit.
In any case, I think I'm ready to go back.
No game plan for the fear
I'm sure somewhere in me, I knew that the fear would come. I knew that panic was likely to set in at some point. A hill start, a lane change, a slight breeze, who knew?
But I never prepared for it. I never had a game plan that started with "If I start panicking, I will..."
In the absence of a game plan, I would wait for David's specific instructions and repeat "I am not ok" over and over again.
My next steps
I'm booking another instructor lesson in.
I'm expecting to feel bad at it.
I'm taking responsibility for my end of the learning.
Spitting the dummy isn't an option.
I've got a game plan for the fear.
Earlier this year, I was aiming to get my licence by Palm Sunday.
Now, I'm simply aiming for feeling comfortable in the driver's seat. I'll set deadlines once I get there.
Palm Sunday has been and gone. But one day, David and I will be able to go on a road trip. He'll be able to nap while I drive.