mouse
04-11-2010, 03:17 AM
I struggled to get to Oakland from LA last week. Since it was work related, I couldn't avoid the trip. I was okay from LA to Pismo Beach since the freeways were familiar and I told myself that familiar meant safe. Once I got past Pismo, it was panic city. I had to stop dozens of times and white knuckled from exit to exit. What should have been a Six hour trip turned into twelve hours of agony. My head hurt from the pain of suppressing all that fear and anxiety as I struggled to get off on side streets and then get back on the freeway over and over again. The night before I was to drive back, I couldn't sleep. I was sure I was going to die somewhere on the road, my head exploding from unrelenting panic.
Then I got the idea to try something different. Generally, I use a mantra, "It's only driving, I've been doing it all my life, it's easy, it's simple, it's fun," whenever I get the feelings of panic and it seems to mitigate the damage a little bit. But in the end, the panic always wins and I have to pull over eventually. This time I decided to start the mantra BEFORE I got on the freeway. In fact, I started chanting as soon as I put the key in the ignition. It seemed silly and innocuous at first, but as I cruised onto the on ramp, a curious thing happened.
The panic didn't come. I kept chanting. I turned off the radio so that no other thought could come into my head. The more I chanted, the easier it got to drive. Five miles went by. Then ten. Still no panic. At the thirty mile mark, I started to feel euphoric. It was working! The intensity of the chanting produced some mental fatigue over a period of time. (At five seconds per chant, it takes 3600 chants to make it to LA in case you're keeping score!) As a result I had to pull over every 45 minutes to walk around and get some water. I timed my pullovers for landmarks. I stopped for a walk in King City. Watched the waves at Pismo Beach. Went for a walk to check out the tourists in Solvang. Each time I got back into the car, I started chanting as soon as I put the key in the ignition. I noticed that on long lonely stretches of highway, the chanting would taper to a whisper and I would be "lost" in a trance, focussing on the white hubcap of a wheel mounted on the back of an RV or the steel logo of a company on the back of a diesel truck. (I was still aware of the road, just not distracted by anything else.) My head was clear of all garbage and focussed on the simple boring nothingness of a long haul. It was a nothing nirvana! Best of all, my breathing slowed and I could feel my torso relax. I could sit back against the seat and extend my arms confidently.
The greatest challenge came just after Camarillo. There is a mountain on the 101 that you have to cross to get to Thousand Oaks that looks a thousand miles high. I have always imagined stalling on the mountain and falling backwards to my death. I pulled over and looked at the mountain, sucking down some water from a 7-11. Then I tossed the water bottle down like Clint Eastwood and said "Let's do this. Let's attack the mountain." I don't know who I was talking to, but it made me feel better thinking there was more than just me in the car.
As I hit the mountain, I grew more confident. I started putting the emphasis on different places in the chant to make it more real. "It's JUST driving. I've been doing this ALL my life. It's easy. It's fun. It's sssmooooth." Mixing things up a little in the chant made it feel like I was toying with the mountain. Easily conquering it. By the time I reached the summit, I felt like I had climbed Mount Everest.
It took me an hour less to get home than the trip up and I felt none of the overwhelming strain and pain that kept me tossing and turning in Oakland.
I now understand that there are no "safe freeways" and "scary freeways". The 880 is no different than the 405. It's all one big freeway and none of them are any safer or more dangerous than the other. A virus has gotten into the computer software of my brain and scrambled it up. I need to clean out the old software and reprogram myself with some new software. The mantra is cleaning out the old. Time to bring in the new.
It's a good time for this recovering driver!
Then I got the idea to try something different. Generally, I use a mantra, "It's only driving, I've been doing it all my life, it's easy, it's simple, it's fun," whenever I get the feelings of panic and it seems to mitigate the damage a little bit. But in the end, the panic always wins and I have to pull over eventually. This time I decided to start the mantra BEFORE I got on the freeway. In fact, I started chanting as soon as I put the key in the ignition. It seemed silly and innocuous at first, but as I cruised onto the on ramp, a curious thing happened.
The panic didn't come. I kept chanting. I turned off the radio so that no other thought could come into my head. The more I chanted, the easier it got to drive. Five miles went by. Then ten. Still no panic. At the thirty mile mark, I started to feel euphoric. It was working! The intensity of the chanting produced some mental fatigue over a period of time. (At five seconds per chant, it takes 3600 chants to make it to LA in case you're keeping score!) As a result I had to pull over every 45 minutes to walk around and get some water. I timed my pullovers for landmarks. I stopped for a walk in King City. Watched the waves at Pismo Beach. Went for a walk to check out the tourists in Solvang. Each time I got back into the car, I started chanting as soon as I put the key in the ignition. I noticed that on long lonely stretches of highway, the chanting would taper to a whisper and I would be "lost" in a trance, focussing on the white hubcap of a wheel mounted on the back of an RV or the steel logo of a company on the back of a diesel truck. (I was still aware of the road, just not distracted by anything else.) My head was clear of all garbage and focussed on the simple boring nothingness of a long haul. It was a nothing nirvana! Best of all, my breathing slowed and I could feel my torso relax. I could sit back against the seat and extend my arms confidently.
The greatest challenge came just after Camarillo. There is a mountain on the 101 that you have to cross to get to Thousand Oaks that looks a thousand miles high. I have always imagined stalling on the mountain and falling backwards to my death. I pulled over and looked at the mountain, sucking down some water from a 7-11. Then I tossed the water bottle down like Clint Eastwood and said "Let's do this. Let's attack the mountain." I don't know who I was talking to, but it made me feel better thinking there was more than just me in the car.
As I hit the mountain, I grew more confident. I started putting the emphasis on different places in the chant to make it more real. "It's JUST driving. I've been doing this ALL my life. It's easy. It's fun. It's sssmooooth." Mixing things up a little in the chant made it feel like I was toying with the mountain. Easily conquering it. By the time I reached the summit, I felt like I had climbed Mount Everest.
It took me an hour less to get home than the trip up and I felt none of the overwhelming strain and pain that kept me tossing and turning in Oakland.
I now understand that there are no "safe freeways" and "scary freeways". The 880 is no different than the 405. It's all one big freeway and none of them are any safer or more dangerous than the other. A virus has gotten into the computer software of my brain and scrambled it up. I need to clean out the old software and reprogram myself with some new software. The mantra is cleaning out the old. Time to bring in the new.
It's a good time for this recovering driver!