I’m 26 and I’m Afraid to Drive

Written by Madeleine Grace Scholefield, Australia

I’m afraid of driving. At 26, that feels shameful to admit. 

I didn’t used to be. In fact, for the past nine years I’ve been a pretty good driver. I’ve never received a speeding fine or anything so much as a parking ticket. I’m good at driving, and I know that. 

So what changed? 

It started last year. I was heading home at peak hour through an unfamiliar part of town, and the GPS kept asking me to turn right across four lanes of traffic. I’d ignored it in protest several times, but it seemed the only possible re-route it offered still involved the same harrowed turn. 

Eventually, I gave in and inched towards the intersection, waiting for a gap that seemed unlikely to come. But then, to my relief, a train came past further up the road, stopping the flow of traffic for a few seconds. The car in front of me boldly entered the intersection and I followed it out, trusting that I’d make it to the other side before the flow of cars continued.

Big mistake. 

The moment I pulled out to follow that car, the train finished passing and the gates swooshed up. The tidal wave of cars that had been held back now came barreling towards me, only I was stuck. 

I panicked. Precariously perched in the middle of four lanes of traffic, I was blocking a whole set of cars that simultaneously started blaring their horns at me. 

I burst into tears. I knew I’d made a mistake, but there was nothing I could do about it; I had to sit and wait in embarrassment until a gap finally emerged and I could get out of everyone’s way. I felt like an absolute idiot.

I was so distraught that by the time I made it home, my husband thought I’d been in an accident. “No,” was all I could tell him. “I’m okay.” The tears dried and my heart rate went down, and I thought that was that. 

But the next day when I went to get in the car, my palms were sweaty. My smart watch told me to “relax”; my heart was thumping.

What’s going on? I wondered. 

I’d never been afraid to drive, and here I was, sitting in my own driveway, hyperventilating. I started the engine, and as it burst to life, I burst into tears. Something gripped my chest tightly, and it wasn’t going away. All I knew was that I couldn’t get back on the road. It wouldn’t be safe. 

My husband gently offered to take me to my coffee catch-up that day. And the next. Each time I went to drive, I experienced the same awful panic attack that rendered me unable to drive. 

We thought that what I needed was a break from driving. To avoid the thing causing this much fear. So I stopped making myself drive, and the fear went away. 

Problem solved. 

Except that it wasn’t. After a few weeks of not driving, I decided to give it another go. But this time I tried, I couldn’t even get out the front door. I grabbed the car keys from the hook under the kitchen sink, and that was all it took; the panic consumed me.

A few weeks after that, the mere thought of needing to drive somewhere—even if I had days to prepare myself—had me in tears. I started cancelling plans with people, and when my husband was at work, I felt trapped. 

House-ridden at 26. How pathetic, I thought. 

I was so ashamed to tell anyone how much I was struggling and how it was affecting my life. When I eventually confessed to my counsellor, she told me that the more I avoided the thing I was afraid of, the more fear it’d create. She explained how my brain was perceiving driving as a threat to my safety, and every time I chose not to drive and the fear went away, I was essentially telling my brain, ‘Good job. You kept us safe.’ That’s why the fear was only getting worse; because I was unknowingly reinforcing it over and over again. 

How often do we do that with other things we’re afraid of, too?

I’m still not back to driving confidently again, but I’m getting there. And as I continue to work on my fear of driving, I’m discovering truths and strategies that I can apply to other areas of my life where fear and anxiety have a grip on me. I hope you’ll find them helpful, too:

Sometimes, Our Bodies Lie

What I mean is that what we feel isn’t always the truth. There’s so much rhetoric out there these days about “listening to our bodies”. ‘I know what’s best for me’, we cry. But we don’t; not always. 

Our brains and bodies have been created in wonderfully intricate and complex ways. God designed us to have perceptions and instincts that can help protect us from harmful things. Our hearts beat a little faster when we’re standing on a ledge. We flinch when a ball flies towards our face (unless you’re great at catching things. I am not.). We put oven mitts on before taking something hot off the stove. 

Instinctually, we’re designed to avoid pain. But the problem with this is that our brains can’t always tell the difference between ‘safe’ and ‘unsafe’. 

It’s not wrong to be in tune with our bodies and what they’re trying to tell us; but we miss the mark when we put more trust in ourselves and our own feelings and perceptions than in the God who calls us to step out in faith. (Think of Jesus calling Peter to walk on water in Matthew 14:28-31. There’s no way Peter’s brain was telling him, ‘This is a smart move.’)

If I made all my decisions based on what my brain and body tell me, I’d never get up to speak in front of people. I wouldn’t push myself to go faster on a run. And many days, I wouldn’t even get out of bed. If I avoided things that didn’t feel good or that provoked a physiological reaction like my heart beating faster or my breathing speeding up, I would never make it out of my comfort zone. 

And here’s the clincher: to live a full, purposeful, obedient life, we need to get out of that zone. Not all the time—there’s space for rest and comfort—but sometimes.

When I notice I’m trusting more in my own self—my brain and body—to keep me ‘safe’ than the God who made me, I’m reminded of Proverbs 28:26; “Those who trust in themselves are fools, but those who walk in wisdom are kept safe.”

Do I trust God enough to be obedient to Him, even when it feels scary or uncomfortable?

Exposure Therapy Works – Incrementally 

“The first thing I want you to do,” said my counsellor a few months ago, “is to sit in your car.” 

“That’s it?” I asked. 

“Yep. Just sit there. I want you to breathe slowly while sitting in the driver’s seat, with no intention of going anywhere but just to get used to feeling comfortable there.”

No offence to my counsellor, but it felt like a silly thing to tell me. If I know I’m not going to drive anywhere, then what’s the point? I won’t feel anxious, I thought. 

But surprise surprise, she actually knew what she was talking about – just sitting in the car that day felt hard to do. 

Next, the goal was to start the engine. 

After that, it was to drive around the block with someone else in the car. 

And eventually, it is to be driving—with confidence—on my own. 

Throughout this process, my counsellor has been clear: if I feel so worked up that it would be unsafe to drive, I shouldn’t. It’s about pushing through the fear within reason, not forcing myself to drive down the street with tears so hot that I can’t see properly. 

I’ve found the same step-by-step principle to be true of my faith. The more I ‘expose’ myself to scary acts of faith and obedience, the easier they become. The more I trust God, the deeper He takes me. 

God uses ordinary, scared people who are willing to say “yes” to Him. But that kind of faith doesn’t happen overnight. Moses, a “hero of the faith”, the man who led the Israelites out of Egypt, didn’t start out as a particularly inspiring or courageous leader. In fact, when God first called him, Moses’ response was one of fear. He didn’t want the job. “Please send someone else,” he pleaded (Exodus 4:13). 

But God still used Moses to bring freedom to His people, and over time, we see a man who grows in faith and courage with each new step of faith. I might not feel ready to share from a pulpit, for example, but can I learn to say “yes” when I feel the Spirit’s prompt to pray for someone? 

What is God calling you to do that seems impossible right now? We can trust that He will be faithful to us as we take each small, incremental step of faith, knowing that He’ll make our paths straight as we submit to Him (Proverbs 3:5-6). 

Remember Past Wins

I don’t know about you, but when I’m in the midst of feeling fearful or anxious, it can be so easy to forget all the other big, scary things I’ve made it through. 

It’s often the same way with our faith; when asked if God has worked in our lives, most of us would probably say “yes”. But when asked what specific things He’s done, can you remember them? I usually can’t. And that happens when I haven’t made a note of them, mentally or physically, in order to remember at a later date. 

I love Joshua’s final speech to the Israelite leaders before his death, where he urges them to remember all that God has done for them: 

“You yourselves have seen everything the Lord your God has done to all these nations for your sake; it was the Lord your God who fought for you … hold fast to the Lord your God, as you have until now … You know with all your heart and soul that not one of all the good promises the Lord your God gave you has failed. Every promise has been fulfilled; not one has failed.” (Joshua 23:3, 8, 14)

What are the “wins” you’ve seen in your life? Times where you were anxious or afraid, but you kept trusting God and He came through for you? Write them down in a journal, or say them aloud. Thank God for all the trials He has brought you through, and then remember those the next time you’re faced with something scary. 

If God has done it for you before, He’ll do it again.

Conclusion

I’m still not quite back to driving with confidence. But I’m learning to be patient and gracious with myself, recognising that some things take time to overcome, and that even if I don’t see the change overnight, I will have victory over this. Just like we’ll have victory over all fear one day. 

Are there things in your life that you’re fearful of? Is God calling you to take a step towards overcoming them, with His help? 

If so, I’d love to hear what they are! Speaking our fears aloud can sometimes help them not feel quite so big and overwhelming.

Let’s do this together, with His help.

Madeleine Grace Scholefield

Maddy grew up as a third-culture kid on the missions field, who now uses her writing as a way to make sense of the world and to point people to the story of hope and grace found in Jesus. She serves full time as Anxious Faith’s Managing Editor, and lives in Australia with her husband, Matt.