🚗 Driving the Freeway
How Fear Taught Me Courage
Let’s go, Mom! Stop being so scared, c’mon!” my son urged from the back seat. It was 2001. We were living in Santa Clara, and while I had grown comfortable navigating suburban life in the Bay Area, the city of San Francisco was a whole different beast.
San Francisco was breathtaking—those winding streets, dramatic inclines, the glittering waterfront just 30 minutes away. It was also overwhelming. I wasn’t just navigating roads; I was navigating a brand-new life, far from what was familiar. Back then, the GPS wasn’t a tap away on your phone. We had to print directions from MapQuest. If I missed a turn? That was it. There were no reroutes, no robotic voice calmly redirecting me. It was just me, my anxiety, and the terrifying possibility of getting hopelessly lost in a city I didn’t yet understand.
But my son loved the city. Some days, he’d beg me to drive us in, cruise down to Fisherman’s Wharf, and grab clam chowder in a warm sourdough bread bowl. (Even now, I can taste that delicious memory.) So, I started saying yes. Not because I was brave. Not because I had a plan. But because I didn’t want my fear to be the reason we stayed small. I kept my eyes on him instead of my fears.
One drive turned into a second. Then a third. With every trip, the city became less intimidating. I began to discover that there was courage in me I hadn’t yet met. That chapter taught me something I’ve carried for years: Sometimes, we face our fears not for ourselves, but for someone we love. And in the process, we grow.
Looking back, I realize I’ve done this all my life—facing fears, irrational or not, one at a time. Whether it was the fear of being judged, of getting lost (literally or metaphorically), or of failing, I’ve learned that fear often outlives its usefulness. What once served as protection becomes a cage.
The key? Stepping toward what scares you. That’s how resilience is built. Not in grand gestures, but in quiet, shaky decisions to show up anyway.
🧭 A Confession (and a Laugh)
Here’s a little secret I’ve never admitted publicly—until now: In one of the most overwhelming seasons of my life, I didn’t buy a new outfit, book a retreat, or learn to meditate. I bought a GPS. Out of fear. Not exactly a bold declaration of independence—but it felt like survival. I just needed a calm voice telling me where to go, when to turn, and how to recalculate when I messed up. And honestly? That’s what having a good coach feels like. Someone who doesn’t judge you for missing a turn… But helps you re-route with grace, and keeps you moving toward your destination—one step, one mile, one decision at a time.
Because sometimes courage is a voice. And it can sound like: “In 500 feet, take the next right.”
🧭 Reflection: What’s one fear you’ve been carrying that’s quietly outlived its purpose?
