Failure anxiety

In a little less than a week from now, I may acquire a new piece of freedom: my driver’s license. Then again, I may not.

Somewhere along the road I seem to have convinced myself of the solid fact that I’m not going to pass this and I’m going to have to take more lessons, ask for a new exam, fail that one, re-take my theory test, and so on. How surprisingly easy it is to let my mind wander that far. Before I know it I’m thinking of three years from now, when I will have taken the exam more times than my cousin Claudia (she had to take it twelve times before she passed) and I will be an emotional wreck because of it.

I know what my only problem is. I make a teeny tiny eensy weensy mistake, like forgetting to indicate to the left if I’m taking the 3rd exit on a roundabout, and I dwell on it. A lot. Jesus fscking christ, I’ll tell myself, you know how it’s done, so do it right. Remember to indicate to the left… and then somewhere during my umpteenth reiteration of that thought I miss that pedestrian crossing the street and I almost hit him.

My best driving lessons were with a driving instructor called Jolanda. She was a very busy woman, always talking, having a lot of fun in life. The second I stepped into the car she’d rush into a story about what she’d been doing over the past week. Most people would find it tedious to recall their spent time about 8 to 9 times a day, but Jolanda simply loved it. So did I, because all her talking kept me distracted just enough to allow me to drive almost flawlessly. When I did do that tiny thing wrong, she wouldn’t go on too much about it, but instead launch into another story about her horses, and consequently, I would also let it pass.

I know I can drive well, but in between the silence of my current driving instructor and my gritted teeth there is a ton of tension waiting to be lifted. I don’t think that tension will go away before I pass the test, so either I will be immensely lucky and do things right anyway, or I’ll fail and see the self-fulfilling prophecy come true. And even though I can exactly pinpoint my problem and explain it, I can’t make it go away. I wish they sold confidence at the local supermarket or something…