How a series of shit shows led to the healing of my decade long struggle with debilitating driving anxiety.

Breaking up with Idaho, a toxic Friend, and a nightmare Client healed my intense driving anxiety.

In 2022 we left Idaho after a series of unfortunate events. A rough situation with a junkie friend and her kid, fucking covid-19, Idaho going real fash, and more I’ll leave out because this is a positive story, I promise.

2017 to 2022 was brutal and weird. I spent a lot of time letting my teeth rot out of my face while trying to drink myself to death in the same spot on my sectional.

When we left Idaho and hit the Oregon border I took a deep breath for the first time in 5 years. I felt like I made it. I survived.

A bit of backstory that will circle back to the point of this piece:

I have had driving anxiety since my 20s when a semi-truck passed me on the freeway and I had my first real panic attack with physical symptoms. Numbness down the side of my face and neck. Tingling hands. Shallow breath I couldn’t catch. I thought for sure that I was stroking out and I had to pull over on the shoulder of Interstate 84 before I realized I wasn’t deep in the throes of death, just anxious as fuck all. I was able to drive for a bit longer, but the nerves were always there.

Later, some time in Boise in the early twenty teens, I was driving in the snow, hit ice, went sideways in our old jeep, almost ended up in a field, and somehow didn’t get into an accident.

That feeling of losing control of the car never went away. Every time I drove that god damn Jeep (bless the old girl) I would white-knuckle the steering wheel, feeling as though I was seconds away from losing control. I could drive short distances at low speeds, but even that took years of building confidence.

Driving even a few miles would stress me out. It required a lot of energy and a phone call to my mom or partner to talk through it the entire time.

When we moved to a very small, fairly isolated beach town, with the nearest major chain store 20 miles away, I realized I’d probably never have much luck in getting around here on my own. My house is just off a state route that peaks at 50mph and that was too fast for my limited comfort zone behind the wheel.

I don’t do well with being tailgated, and some people around here seem to forget that we’re on fucking beach time, and have no reason to be in such a god damn hurry but that’s a rant for the South Beach Community Bulletin facebook page, not my personal blog.

My aniety, in general, was cut in half when I moved to a place where I didn’t feel like everyone around me hated me. A place I could exist without the worry of running into someone I didn’t want to see, but I still had some lingering triggers I couldn’t ignore.

My ‘best friend’, for one, was a major, major, fucking trigger…and she was visiting often and making my anxiety levels skyrocket every single time, and it only escalated once we weren’t in the same city.

(If you want to read more about that whole fucking clown ass shit show you can do so here.)

Once she was out of my life and I processed the worst of it all, I felt another deep breath of relief

Another huge trigger was the absolute dogshit clients I’d worked with for years. Sure it sustained the ‘retired 30 year old’ lifestyle that I’d grown to love, I guess….? But the damage it did to my overall happiness was blatantly clear. I had felt stuck in that job and I felt stuck with that friend.

Was my life just shit? Hopeless?

When I no longer worked with the aforementioned clients, I had been out of the ‘normal job’ market for over 5 years. I left retail in 2017 and had been self/under employed since.

The thought of working a 9-5 felt like a personal failure. I thought I had lost my social skills, my ability to communicate like a neurotypical. I dealt with a whole lot of bullshit to learn the marketing, design, and content creation skills I now have. And it was for nothing…at least nothing I can comfortably rely on monetarily.

I looked into more freelance work and self employment.

If you aren’t aware, freelance is dying because of the robots.

I didn’t stand much of a chance in the freelance world anymore, and my shit clients were a one off opportunity, and a chance I wasn’t willing to take again.

(Plus the further I’ve gotten from the online world in the past couple of months, the happier and healthier I feel, who would have thought)

I honestly didn’t believe there was a job in customer service that wouldn’t make me want to blow my brains out.

My apologies for the dramatics.

It was glaringly clear that I had to work. As much as I’d love to be a non-trad trad-wife, it’s just not a reality in 2025, in a collapsing society, for most people.

I was terrified to be interviewed. How would I explain the gaps in my resume? Was I fully feral? Could I keep my ‘fuck’ words under control? Would it destroy my mental well-being that I had just gotten back?

Had I let my raw-dogged neurodivergence unmask to the point of being unable to work?

B worked a seasonal job at the state parks last year. We live directly between two forests. Two state park campgrounds on the beach.

He fucking loved it. And he got a permanent job shortly after his season ended. He spoke highly of the parks and the people running them.

He had suggested that I apply for a seasonal position, he thought I’d like it, but I was terrified of the process of getting a new job after so long.

But I did it.

My intervew wasn’t fully feral. My Charisma, Uniqueness, Nerve, and Talent are still intact.

After so many years of hating humans and avoiding them, I felt confident, alive, and fully myself.

I’m still a fucking December Sagittarius extrovert who can yap all day about anything.

What a strange, yet welcomed surprise.

My heart pounded on the first day I had to drive the car to Brandon’s park. 35mph. My heart pounded harder on the first day I had to drive to my park. 50mph.

We’ve spent too much of the last couple weeks driving. Up and down the highway. North or South. I’d wake up and take B to work at 6:30, come home, let James out, get ready, and drive back to work for my later shift.

We realized pretty quickly that the one car situation we’d been in for a decade wasn’t sustainable. At least not anymore, not out here in the wild west.

So on, what felt like, a whim (we had been talking about it for years) we bought a new Jeep. We didn’t mean to become Jeep people, but the old Liberty has been chuggin’ rattly, yet reliably forever and we hate that every other modern car currently looks like it’s out of some dystopian fascist nightmare.

(but I mean, they are though).

The car arrived while I was at work. I got home at 6:15 and we immediately hopped in.

I drove around the neighborhood, up and down the highway, further than I had driven in over 10 years, and felt nothing but excitement.

I perfectly positioned myself, probably too close to the steering wheel, and I’ve never been more comfortable in a car.

Clarissa (my Renegade) has the most expansive and impressive windshield, providing my anxious dumb ass with fucking fire visibility and peace of mind.

She connects to my iPhone so I don’t have to listen to the one radio station that kinda sorta comes in out here that isn’t Country or Christian music.

SHE HAS A BACKUP CAMERA.

Yesterday, I drove to the grocery store alone for the first time. I took James to the Dunes at the Cove for the first time alone. I drove down a winding highway with cars speeding towards me heading in the opposite direction for the first time without having to pull over and remind myself to take a breath. It was fine. I didn’t have to chug water to keep myself distracted enough to get where I needed to go. I didn’t need to call anyone. It was fucking dope. (I haven’t had to call anyone, not even once, since getting this car.)

I felt calm and in control. I felt confident and free. 

Had I not cut that friend out who made me constantly, and consistently on edge, had I not left that fucking horrible client relationship that kept me a hermit, had I not gotten a job at the parks, I probably wouldn’t have had the balls, PMA, or the necessity to get myself to this point.

Life is funny, and I’m really enjoying it. My job is fucking GREAT. The people are wonderful, the parks are beautiful, the campers are delightful. My dogs are barking but I’m having a great time.

On my friday, an old man cheerfully told me I was the brightest ranger he’d ever seen. (I’m not a ranger, but they don’t know that, and I like that my clown vibes spark so much joy in the older generations around here. A huge, welcomed change from the scoffs and dirty looks from deep red boomers.)

My co-workers know about my struggle and have been supportive of me re-learning how to drive confidently. I’ve never been a part of such a kind workplace. It’s refreshing and gives me a lot of hope during these uncool times in the shit show that is America.

I needed that. I really needed a reminder that people aren’t all fucking shit heads.

Also, it’s really funny that people care about sand in their backseats and bird shit on their hoods. I’ve always had hoopties.

Who gives a shit?…

I vacuumed the sand out of my car after the dunes yesterday, and used a soft washcloth to remove the bird shit.

Life is neat and cool. And as long as I stay away from the countless news articles documenting the real-time collapse of this country, I’m really fucking stoked to be here, to be alive, and to be able to drive.

And yes, I’m already back to speeding, but just a little. Safety is important, ya’ll.

Get your motor runnin’

Head out on the highway

Lookin’ for adventure

And whatever comes our way.

Born to be Wild or whatever Steppenwolf said.

🤷🏼‍♀️🤙🏼

Cheers-

Chels