Learning to drive again

Part II: The Written Test

Since I started learning to drive again, ten years after I got my first driver's license, I've been thinking a lot about my twenty-five-year-old self. She was fun, outgoing, and fearless, more so than I am now. She would jump into a stranger's car after meeting them at a music festival and go on a weekend trip to the beach. She craved life, excitement, and joy. She was also an expert in escapism. She would use anything at her disposal to grasp hope or numb herself. Her go-to methods were Jägermeister, joints, meaningless sex, parties, and any adventurous journey. Anything that would make her forget about her mother dying from cancer in front of her eyes. She would trust anyone. She wouldn't see any risks. Or maybe she considered the adrenaline a way to flee her agony.
I passed the written test last week, but I don't remember feeling so proud the first time around in my twenties. I now look back in awe at everything I was stubbornly putting on my shoulders, but I don't recall feeling any fulfillment. After my Erasmus in Belgium, instead of pursuing my dream of finding a job abroad, I studied for my second bachelor's degree at home to spend the last couple of years of my mother's life by her side. I've always been good at plans B. I was also preparing for my driver's license in case my mother needed an urgent ride to the hospital. But I never stopped learning languages in case I could finally make the desired international move. And in the meantime, I gave weekly classes to high school students so I could support my escapist behavior.

My younger self was so bold that people would consider her a thoughtless, irresponsible, and naive girl. But she was brilliant and so alive. And deep inside, I still feel her pushing me to focus on finding the bright side of life, no matter what. And it's for her that I'm enjoying learning to drive again. I'm internalizing the new words, absorbing all the rules, and congratulating myself for every success. I'm also more conscious than ever of the risks and challenges. I'd never thought about traffic accidents before. I'd never imagined sharing the road with enraged or drunk people. But I can't stop dreaming about my first driving adventure. What sunglasses I will wear when I’m crossing Monument Valley. What song from Beth Hart I will pick when looking at the sandstone monoliths rising from the desert floor through the windshield.

“But I can’t stop dreaming about my first driving adventure.”

While giving the whole idea of driving again a second chance, I’ve had numerous conversations with different women. I’m learning about all our stories of fear and trauma, all the support we give each other. And thus, there are many questions popping into my head: Are women more afraid of driving than men? Do women have more emotional wounds related to this issue? There is so much rage against women parking, taking their time to decide, being cautious, making mistakes, or just driving. Is it more dangerous for women to drive? Will women have the chance to heal and drive at the same time? Will we ever feel safe driving?

If I could send a letter to my younger self, I’d tell her she’s doing great.

…Buckle up because everything is going to be even more excruciating. But you are not alone. You’ll have support from women you don’t even know yet. And I’ll be here, on the other side, waiting for you. Fearless and bold. Ready to protect you, celebrate you, and drive you toward joy...