Terrified of Driving Over Bridges

I'm guessing that there must be at least a dozen articles on AC alone referring to the state of bridges throughout the country following the tragic Minnesota bridge collapse ten days ago. There have been at least one, sometimes two, articles in every local paper that I read daily on the condition of bridges in both our local areas and statewide, and the tragedy continues to receive Internet and full media coverage as divers continue their gut-wrenching work.

My story, however, dates back at least ten years ago. Although I have held it as closely-kept a secret from everyone (except my immediate family), I was inspired to come 'out of the closet' after reading an AC producer's article in which she stated her fear of driving overall. The incident that 'sealed the deal' for me was a short documentary on television featuring Maryland's Bay Bridge, and how bridge officials have had a staff of individual drivers on call whose sole mission is to drive folks over the bridge if they are unable to do so themselves. Now, if any of you are even remotely familiar with the Bay Bridge, you can understand why this is not a joke. The Bay Bridge is a very heavily traveled (especially in the summertime) span that soars hundreds of feet over the Chesapeake Bay, and connects the main land to Kent Island, Maryland (and also to Maryland's shore points). For well over thirty years, I've heard dozens and dozens of people complain about having to drive over that very high, wind gust-prone bridge. Some just complained; others refused to make the drive at all.

I have never driven over the Bay Bridge, although I lived in Maryland for most of my life. The bridge terrifies me. To be blunt, driving over any and all bridges terrifies me. I look back at when I first got my driver's license at age 18. I look back at my 'single' days. I look back thirty, twenty, fifteen, ten years ago, years when I cheerfully and without thinking twice about it drove just about everywhere. I remember driving home to Baltimore from northern Virginia in the middle of a horrible rain storm, driving straight through until I got home at 1:30 A.M. Although I remember being barely able to see through the windshield, I just soldiered on. But then something happened over the last ten years of my life.

We had just moved to a new state, one in which I was totally unfamiliar and one that was famous for its notorious 'circles' instead of turns on some pretty major roads. It took me a while to get up that Jersey girl bravado and just 'do it', push forward and merge in with everybody else. Ironically, the state of New Jersey is now doing away with most of its 'circles'. But after living her for three or four years, a sense of desperation set in that prompted me to doubt my ability to drive over bridges of literally almost any span.

We were supposed to move from here. We were supposed to go back to where family and friends were; that had been the plan all along. it took me those few years to realize that this was not going to happen, and that we were not getting out of here anytime soon. I was overcome with an incredible sadness, which frankly still lingers on, a sense of anger that things weren't going the way that I had been 'promised'. My heart began to pound for absolutely no particular reason. My temper was short, verbal outbursts and crying long. I kept as much of this bottled up inside of me. I thought that I was literally losing my mind.

I wasn't losing my mind. My feelings were actually justifiable and righteous I soon learned. What was happening is that I let my emotions, firmly packed into my own well-being, get the better of me. And those feelings somehow manifested themselves in a genuine aversion, a horror, of my ability to cross a bridge span. To me, it was a sense of being out of control (I felt that I really was!), of being helpless (I was! I was stuck in a place on this earth where I really, really didn't want to be.) I found myself taking any and every route possible to avoid having to drive over a bridge. The higher, the wobblier, the more decrepit, the more my fear ate away at me. I just couldn't and wouldn't do it. Can you imagine to what great lengths a person would go to avoid having to drive over a bridge? If I wanted to go into the city of Philadelphia, my choice was one of three busy bridges. If I wanted to attend a concert out by the airport, there were those damned bridges again. At first, I was pretty cool about 'hiding' my problem, but you can't run away from it forever. There are just some places that you can't reach if you're not willing to cross a bridge.

If I was 'smart enough' to figure out why this happened, why did I 'allow' this to happen to me in the first place? Once I realized what was going on, I frantically tried to get help. I went to a hypnotherapist (who was useless). Then I went to a psychotherapist, who was tremendously helpful over the course of seven or eight sessions. With gentle prodding, I was able to open up about all of the anger, anxiety and depression I was feeling. I was able to see that I needed to be able to talk about these feelings, and more importantly, to take action to resolve them. With a slight amount of medication and after a lot of talking, I felt 'cured'. it was time to get back out into the world and try out the calming techniques I had been taught.

I started driving over small, local bridges, doing my breathing exercises, thinking of anything and everything else other than the fact that I might lose control over the car and careen into the water, or into, God forbid, a bunch of other cars. Over time, it's become easier for me to continue to build up my confidence and face my fear. I'm not completely cured, though. There was one part of the country that I desperately wanted to move to, but a pair of bridges right in the middle of the area drove me crazy. (One of them was like driving literally straight up at a 180 degree angle, and then rapidly descending. It was of some comfort to know that even the residents themselves really hated driving over that bridge, and avoided it at all costs. I intended to avoid it at all costs as well, and chose not to relocate there.)

So I'm not completely cured; there will always be a bridge out there with my name on it. But I got better, and continue to get better, little by little, over time and by challenging myself to conquer my fear as often as I can. Don't feel sorry for me; I don't. I've really learned a lot about myself through this situation, although it's been very hard at times. We all have our own special hell of a fear that keeps us from really being ourselves. At least now I know what mine is...