Autopilot

I have a bad case of driving anxiety. Once I hit the road, I become an unforgiving, scared, and short tempered person. Every little inconvenience angers me enough to make me scream and that terrifies me. I dread becoming this person, so I white knuckle the steering wheel and hover in the slow lane, trying to avoid trouble.

I've lived in the same city my whole life, so you'd think I'd know my way around-- but there's nothing more comforting than having a GPS by your side. It's like an addiction. I get in the car, put in my destination, and let it veer me in the right direction.

This morning, I woke up the most lethargic I have ever felt. I was too drained for any emotion other than a dull dread for the day ahead. Instead of sleeping, I spent the night overthinking this project for work that I had severely messed up at the end of yesterday, leaving the consequences of my mistakes to today. I couldn't bother thinking about anything else when my anxiety insisted upon anticipating the ramifications of my error.

I got into my car, threw my stuff on the passenger's seat, and let the radio play on low volume. I backed out of the driveway and started my commute to work, the anxiety gradually piling in my veins with each moment.

As I merged onto the freeway, I started to feel antsy. I'd been ruminating all night and I needed to know what was going to happen as soon as possible to ease my nerves. Without thinking, I began weaving through traffic, checking my blind spots by pure instinct.

I eventually turned the radio on higher and even started singing along to some of the songs, although they weren't my favorite. The place that I work at also plays the radio, and this station plays the same 10 songs on repeat. This is something that usually causes me some discomfort, as I get irritated by the repetition. But, at that moment, knowing all of the lyrics against my will made for a pretty fun time.

When I got to my exit and I slowed at the stoplight, the song had transitioned into a commercial. Reality hit me as I caught myself smiling, loosely holding onto the bottom of the steering wheel as if I'd never been anxious at all.

As I turned into my favorite parking spot, my anxiety started to sink in again. This time, it wasn't as intense; it was just a light tingle in the back of my mind.

I turned off the car and checked the time-- I was 10 minutes earlier than normal! Relieved to have made it, but also nervous about my near future, I took some deep breaths.

To temporarily distract myself, I grabbed my phone. When I opened it, I hit a sudden realization:

I never turned on my GPS.

Amazed at myself, a wave of pride washed over me. The victory was quiet, almost invisible to outsiders. To me, it changed everything.

It was a small feat, to make it to work without assistance from a machine, but for me and my anxiety, it meant everything. The city hadn't gotten any smaller; I had just finally grown enough to fit into it. I'd been clinging onto a lifeline for so long that I didn't have the strength to let it go until I let my thoughts go.

I grabbed my bag and stepped out, locking the door without looking back. For the first time in a long time, I knew exactly where I was going.