November in North Dakota

November in North Dakota is always miserable; it's not just cold, but also bitter. By Halloween, which is my favorite holiday, there's a slight dusting of snow coating all the house tops, and lawns. And by the end of November, the streets and buildings are completely covered in mountains of snow. The ice, not the snow, is what makes winter so miserable. The ice melts during the day while the weather warms up; then as temperatures drop at night, it re-freezes. The outcome is slick, glassy roadways glaring over the morning roads as the cycle repeats itself. Growing up in North Dakota and having my license for well over six months, I should have known this pattern better by now, but even the most seasoned winter drivers with years of experience driving in such conditions can get into accidents.

On this morning, the snow was extra vibrant as the sun’s rays beamed off the hills and snowbanks in my driveway and bounced back to my face. My phone's weather app reported a "small" snowstorm of four inches the night before. "Small to whom?" I wondered as I watched the top layer of fluff sway in the breeze through the comfort of my window. I could tell it was cold without going outside, but the app had also warned me to brace myself for more snow and bitterness. Slowly I got ready, hoping for an announcement that school would be canceled, if not delayed. However, no message was received, indicating that everything was to go on as usual. Before heading out the door, I grabbed my backpack, workbag, an energy drink, and, of course, my coat. But as soon as I grasped the handle, my stepfather called out from behind me, "Wait…Wait a minute." I thought maybe he would pass on the good news that there was no school today, but when I looked at his face the expression seemed off. He asked, “Have you checked any roadmaps yet?”

 I looked at him a little silly and responded, “No just the weather, why?”

“I’m not going to lie, I have a bad feeling about you driving to school today. I know the car is fine and we’ve told you how to drive when it’s like this, but still. Something just feels...”

 He trailed off for a bit looking at me then to the window before continuing, “Something just feels off.” I knew that the roads were bad, but I felt like I could handle it. Blowing snow, slick roads, and ice are all a part of the winter driving experience, or at least that’s what my mom always told me. And yet when my stepdad asked, it felt like he was questioning my abilities versus the actual road conditions.

“I just want you to be safe, that’s all,” he stated.
“I can handle myself. I just wish they’d cancel school so I don’t have to go to work after or be out at all.”

“I really don’t feel good about you going by yourself.”

He said his gut felt off, and I didn’t want to argue so instead we compromised; I would follow behind his truck in my car for the ride to school.

            I held my breath as I walked to my tiny 2002 merlot-colored Saturn, hoping that the chill of the cold air wouldn't hit my lungs too hard. It was freezing outside. I had already adjusted my radio, popped open my drink, and was ready to go by the time my stepdad pulled out of the driveway. I followed behind his large GMC Sierra pickup as we drove through the backroads to town; living in a small town meant there was always a commute no matter where you went. To my left and right were large but empty cornfields, with piles of snow in place of the typical green, tall stocks. I felt a bubble form in my stomach; normally, when driving in weather like this, I am the passenger, and I began to doubt my abilities behind the wheel, which was firmly gripped under my white knuckles as we drove.

My stepdad was almost to my school after a few turns and stops, with me close behind. The snow had stopped blowing by this point, so the roads no longer had the same coverage and traction as when we first left, exposing treacherous icy streets. I pumped my brakes as I stared at the back of my stepdad's truck, knowing that a stop sign was just ahead. But the car didn't slow; it was still cruising down the road going at least thirty miles per hour…

            My heart began to sink to my stomach, and I pushed the brake pedal harder and faster, hoping to slow the car down, but it continued to cruise forward. At this point, adrenaline had kicked in, and I felt a sense of anticipation as I realized my car was gliding across the ice toward the back of my stepdad's pickup. I could feel the tires rolling beneath my seat as I pumped the brakes, praying the car would stop. It was panic mode until I caught a quick glimpse to my right and remembered the e-break. I reached over the center console and pulled up on the long handle, expecting something, anything. I could see it coming, the lights on the back of the truck beamed brighter and brighter the closer I got, but there was nothing I could do.

“BAM!” My eyes were closed for a split second, me thinking it wasn't real, until I blinked back to reality. I'd rear-ended my stepdad. My mouth fell open, and I then don’t remember which came first, my screaming to myself “Oh my god!! What the hell just happened!?” or the flow of tears streaming down my face. They felt like drops of fire on my cheeks they were so hot and filled with fear. I turned off the engine and pulled myself out of the car to stop myself from shaking so badly. The smell of gas and oil filled the surrounding air as I inched closer to the front of my car. The damage had already been done. The front of my car was smashed in, while the back end of the truck was perfectly fine. I think my stepdad realized this because when he got out of his truck, instead of yelling like I had anticipated; he told me he was glad that we were both ok, even if the cars were not.

“Cars are replaceable, people are not.”

            After my accident I was glad that my stepdad was right. People are not replaceable. This, however, instilled fear in me; cars are replaceable, but why get behind the wheel if you never know what will happen? Accidents are inevitable and unpredictable, which is why they are called accidents in the first place.  I thought I'd never drive again, or so I told myself for the first year after my accident. Every time my parents or friends asked me to drive, I would panic; the thought of driving again and getting into another accident paralyzed me. I let my fear control me, and as a result, I missed out on many experiences and milestones that other people my age would have had, such as driving myself to school, getting a job further away from home, hanging out with my friends without depending on others, and having freedom and independence as a young adult. The consequences arrived almost as quickly as the crash itself.

Allowing your fears to control you is like putting yourself in a voluntary prison. Yes, your fears and anxieties are real, but they should not rule your life. Living in a constant state of fear of the things you can’t control is like being behind bars because it is exactly that, something you cannot control.

 I allowed my fears to control me for a long time, and I pitied myself every time I missed out on something because of them. That was until I realized stressing about the things that may or may not happen is a waste of time when you could be experiencing so many other opportunities. And while you can hyper-fixate on an issue, you can’t undo what has already happened. Learning to face my fears head-on and having an open mindset has opened the door to so many great things in my life. Without this growth mindset, I would probably still be stuck in the cold of November in North Dakota.

Some people believe that taking things slowly or one step at a time is best, and in certain situations that’s true. However, with fear you waste time dwelling on all the small details rather than facing the actual problem itself. Finding something to motivate you to work towards change can also be beneficial. You will not only be facing your fear, but you will also challenge its very existence, giving you the ability to grow and learn. If I had never faced my fears by driving again I would still be imprisoned by the bitterness of North Dakota winters, instead of the gentle winter that settles over Arizona State University.