Fortunately the title relates not to my state of mind, but rather to my new found hobby; learning to drive. Ever since I was about five, I’ve had a re-occurring nightmare that goes something like this:

I’m driving (badly) in car, I crash, I die.

Yes, it was a pretty strange dream for a five year old to have, especially as it’s continued way into adulthood. God knows where the fear stemmed from, it’s not like I’d ever been involved in a road accident. And if I were to try and psychoanalyse it, I’d say it’s probably some deep rooted fear of losing control of my own life. Independence has always been the upmost of importance to me, even at the age of five.

But anyway. This nightmare left me with a fear of driving; to be entrusted with the responsibility of both myself and that of other road users, which to some extent is out of my control – scares the living headlights out of me.

Couple this with the fact I grew up in an environment which had no reason for cars, (London + living = local transport) and I’ve never really felt the need to learn to drive. Indeed, up until three weeks ago, I’d never even sat in the driver’s seat of a car before, let alone turned on an engine.

So when I booked my first lesson, I was bricking it. In fact I was pretty sure I was about to give birth to a paving slab. My instructor picked me up, drove me to a secluded part of town and then tentatively broke my driving virginity. There in the car I sat with him, whilst he explained to me everything he knew about mirrors, signals and the pedals. I listened, I nodded my head and I smiled. Then he told me to get out of his car.

Out I got, slightly confused and a little bit terrified. Then he told me to get back in his car, only this time, I’d be getting in the driver’s seat!

My palms were sweaty, I smiled far too much – or was that a grimace? I got in and could barely see over the steering wheel; it’s like I was five all over again. That’s when I was introduced to the seat adjuster. Thank god. I actually thought I was too small for driving.

Key. Ignition. It started on my first attempt. My heart stopped. Somehow, I managed to pull away from the kerb and drive. I was kerb crawling at 3mph and I was proud. The trouble with moving though is eventually you have to stop. This was the real test for me. With a little tuition from my instructor, I pulled back to the kerb and stopped just beside a tree. Granted, my instructor couldn’t get out, but that’s not the point is it?

I did it. I did something I was scared of.

And then I did it again and again for the next hour. Round and round I went. And then you know what?

I went back again the following week and then again today. Three hours into my new driving life and I can start a car, change gears, turn left and stop. Sure, it’s not life changing, but it’s changed me. Or it will do once I get my licence.

You see I move house – a lot. I stopped counting at thirty postcodes. And next time I move, I won’t have to do it myself on the bus with a suitcase. I can sling my suitcase into the back of my car and drive on my merry way.

What’s really surprising however, is what I’ve discovered; having nightmares about driving wasn’t a fear of losing control of my own life – it was just another way for me to become independent.