I just bought a brand new Subaru and part of me feels more at home than it has for a while.  

When I got married 4 years ago, I quickly purchased a bigger non-Subaru SUV because I think I felt like I needed to spread my wings and be someone ‘new’? After all, I was married now!  But after driving Subarus for more than 25 years, part of my identity was tied up in that brand.  And, as silly as that is, the new SUV just never felt like “me”.  

Remember when I told you the story about the Jeep Cherokee that I purchased and loved as a new teacher, fresh from college?

Well, what I didn’t tell you was that the last day I drove that Jeep was on a just-starting-to-snow November afternoon many, many years ago.  I was carpooling home with one of my closest friends and I over-corrected after merging from an on-ramp. My Jeep, my passenger, and I landed upside down on the freeway after smacking into a cement barricade and rolling the Jeep two and a half times.

I won’t tell you in this post about all the tender mercies of that day.  I assure you there were many. 

I don’t remember the rolling or how I got out of the car.  I just remember sitting on the side of the freeway and some very capable people helping.  Miraculously no one was hurt except that Jeep … and the barricade. 

The person in my family that lived closest to me at the time was my brother, Marty.  

Turns out, he was the perfect one. 

I called him using the phone the police had in their car.  He quickly came to the accident site and, after ascertaining that I was ok, he took pictures (on an actual camera) for the insurance company. He drove me to my sister’s house. The next day he drove me to the salvage lot where they had taken the Jeep.  And the next week he drove me to the Subaru lot to buy a new car. 

I hadn’t driven since the accident and didn’t want to. I was avoiding driving at all costs. My brain went to how much worse it could have been….how many people could have been hurt…the feeling of that Jeep rocking back and forth uncontrollably and crashing at freeway speed into that barricade. I imagined all of it every time I closed my eyes. My natural inclination toward fear was definitely getting the best of me. 

And Marty was having none of that.

He got me to the dealership and in the passenger seat of a new Outback. I didn’t know anything about Subarus except that a kid I had a huge crush on in high school drove a yellow one. Marty didn’t care. He drove me (and the unknowing Subaru salesman with us) across the street to a huge vacant parking lot, and made me get in the driver’s seat.  

Then he said – in a tone that didn’t allow for arguing – “Pick up some speed and turn that steering wheel hard. I need you to see that this car is not going to flip!”  He went on to explain center of gravity and wheel base width and ground clearance and a bunch of other things that influence the stability of a car.  I don’t remember any of them because I was terrified. But I remember hesitantly pushing the gas and then following his instructions to turn the steering wheel hard. I remember feeling like maybe I actually could drive again.  

I bought that car.  I loved that car.  I drove that Subaru for 160,000 miles. (And then bought – as of this new one – four more.)

Why am I telling you all this?

Two reasons.

First, to remind you (again) that it’s ok to do (or be or have or buy or keep) things just because they help us feel like ourselves. 

And second, to tell you what Marty knew about me that day – that sometimes we cause distress by avoiding distress.

Noam Shpancer, Ph. D., says “Our natural inclination is to avoid pain. Yet, life entails tolerating it. The more you evade pain, the more difficult tolerating it – that is, living – becomes. Most psychological distress is caused by attempts to escape psychological distress. Instead we must learn to face what we are inclined to dodge. Once we identify an … ineffective behavior, we should ask: What does this behavior allow me to avoid? In discovering what [it] lets us escape, we discover what we must face in order to heal.”

In discovering what it lets us escape, we discover what we must face in order to heal.

I’m not sure how long I would have avoided driving. But I am sure that I would have caused more distress in my life if I had continued to dodge the distress I felt about getting behind the wheel after that accident.  And I’m so grateful Marty made me face it. 

I can’t wait to hear about what you have stopped dodging. And what a difference it’s made for you. If you need help with it, I would love to be your coach – and we don’t even need a parking lot.  

PS To add insult to injury in that long ago accident, I had to pay for the barricade. 

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