Sometimes driving isn’t worth the stress

I’m checking off qualifications on a job posting when, near the bottom, I come across a familiar line: “A valid driver’s license and access to a reliable vehicle.”

I know from experience that this, in fact, means I will be expected to drive myself to various locations. Even though I have my license and my partner leases a vehicle on which I’m insured, I don’t drive. I haven’t gotten behind the wheel in years.

I can’t point to a traumatic incident at the root of this. I wish I could say I am taking a stand for the environment. Here’s the truth: the benefits of driving don’t outweigh the stress and anxiety it causes me. This goes beyond mild nerves.

When I last had a job that required me to drive to conduct newspaper interviews in rural Nova Scotia (eight years ago), I obsessively planned out my route beforehand. Often, I felt sick to my stomach with fear when I anticipated the journey.

Truth be told, I had little interest in getting my license in the first place. By the time I was 17, though, most of my friends were licensed or well on their way. Eventually, facing the question of why I didn’t want to drive seemed more tedious than just going through the course and test. I ended up passing the road test on my first try — but not before many stressful lessons (some of which ended in tears).

In searching for statistics on autistic drivers, I mostly came across pages from various advocacy groups, rather than anything explicitly written or researched by autistic people. Many of them were simply in response to the question, “can autistic people drive?”

As one 2017 study noted, “Despite the potential importance of driving as a means to enhance independence in this population, very little is known about driving among adolescents with ASD (autism spectrum disorder).”

In its conclusion, the same study stated “tailored efforts are likely needed to support these families in making the most informed decisions about whether or not their teen should drive and prepare them, if appropriate, for safe, independent driving.”

I can’t help but notice that, in this latter passage, the focus is on the family of the autistic individual and their comfort, rather than the comfort of the autistic individual.

I don’t need studies to know that many autistic people can, and do, drive.

For me, though, it’s a major source of fear and anxiety. My autism traits may be a factor here. For example: I love having a clear set of rules, but on the road, the rules are always changing based on where I go. High traffic situations can be overstimulating. And, God forbid, what if a detour ruins my whole plan? For these reasons and more, I don’t apply for jobs that ask me to be able to drive. I have to tell myself they’re the ones missing out and move on.

Rebecca Dingwell is a freelance writer and editor based in Halifax, N.S. A self-proclaimed nerd and horse girl, she is learning to navigate her life through new eyes after being diagnosed as autistic. Rebecca is also working on a memoir chronicling her family’s life after her father’s ALS diagnosis.