One of my dearest friends who lives in San Francisco is scared of driving over bridges. For one main reason, she got stuck on a bridge in rush hour traffic. She was terrified. She could not open her doors because of the cars zooming by her. She recalled that her husband at the time refused to come get her, likely not fully understanding the gravity of the situation. She was trapped for 45 minutes with just the zooming sound of cars, activating her nervous system over and over and over again.
Just after her 69th birthday, she asked me to be a support passenger to drive over bridges. I said “yes”, enthusiastically and took my job very seriously. I made an itinerary. I would pick her up at 7:45 am to avoid traffic; we would drive over three bridges total and jump in the ocean as a reward to calm our nervous systems and clear all the residual fear.
When I arrived to pick her up, she was cleaning her car - an effective way to settle her nerves. Hesitation loomed as we got settled in our seats. She placed a picture of a brave, inspiring friend on her dashboard, explaining she had passed away. Her friend would look after us. We were ready.
As we approached the first bridge to Oakland, she talked me through her nervous delight, expressing gratitude on the fact there was no traffic and a lane was closed, where she knew she could pull off, if necessary. After determining her escape routes, she leaned into the inescapable fear and off we went. She shrieked like a child. She teared up. We growled; her nervous system borrowing my courage. She retold me her story of why she was scared of being trapped on the bridge. I went on the roller coaster ride with her. My nervous system meeting hers, as if dancing to the same intense song, heading towards a crescendo. I squealed with her in celebration as we arrived at the other side. Then we were quiet for a moment, our systems settling, digesting, before discussing the next bridge.
The next bridge was the same rides of emotions but a bit less potent, as if the potency of fear was draining out of our nervous systems with each bridge behind us. We continued on, reaching a tunnel to get to the beach, and it was like going through the birth canal, everything changing on the other side.
The waves were huge and crashing against the sand. We got knee deep into the water before the current begin taunting my friend, threatening to knock her over. She persisted. I watched her courage with complete awe. I dunked in. When I popped my head up, she stood strong, smiling and in clarity to chose not to go in any further, trusting herself and her fear to keep her safe in this moment.
When we drove over the final bridge to get home, the Golden Gate bridge, we didn’t hit a crescendo. She shared memories of raising her daughter and growing her business in San Francisco. My nervous system met hers and there was a peacefulness resting right next to and around the fear. The fear of driving over bridges…disrupted. Her nervous system changing, adapting in how it responds to fear, as it digested the new experiences we had together over the bridges.