I Took the Road I Didn’t Know

A Joy Quest story about discovering that courage doesn’t always make the fear go away

The other day, I had a mammogram appointment in Devon.

Not exactly a Joy Quest.

But I’ve been trying to get better at looking at days that already have obligations attached to them and asking whether there might be room for something enjoyable too.

I had a couple of things to do before my appointment, so I left early.

First stop was Tomahawk.

I needed to drop off an ear swab from Gizmo at the vet to make sure his ear infection was finally gone.

From there, I was heading to Calmar.

For apple fritters.

Obviously.

I’ve been back to the bakery in Calmar since my original cinnamon-bun-turned-apple-fritter adventure, and this time I was bringing some home for the family to have that evening.

It also happened to be Friday, which apparently is honey cruller day.

They only make them one day a week, and honey crullers are my husband’s favourite.

So now the day’s itinerary was:

Dog’s ear swab.

Apple fritters.

Honey crullers.

Mammogram.

Life contains multitudes.

What I didn’t know was that somewhere between Tomahawk and Calmar, my GPS was about to give me another little Joy Quest.

Turn Here

I don’t know the back roads between Tomahawk and Calmar particularly well, so I was following the GPS.

Then it told me to turn onto a road I didn’t recognize.

Normally, I wouldn’t have.

I would have kept driving along the route I knew and let the GPS recalculate.

I’ve done that before.

There’s a certain comfort in knowing where a road goes.

I know what’s ahead.

I know where it connects.

I know approximately how long I’ll be on it.

I know I’m going to come out somewhere familiar.

An unfamiliar road doesn’t give me any of that.

And I don’t particularly like the unknown.

But this time I looked at the turn.

And took it.

Almost immediately, the anxiety started.

Nobody Knows I’m on This Road

That’s where my mind went.

Nobody knows I’m taking this road.

And then came the what-ifs.

What if something happens?

What if the vehicle breaks down?

What if I get lost?

What if there’s nobody around?

What if something happens to me and nobody knows where I am?

There was no actual indication that anything was wrong.

I was driving on a road.

That’s it.

But anxiety doesn’t require evidence.

Mine is particularly talented at taking an unknown and filling in the blank spaces.

For most of my life, that’s been part of how I kept myself feeling safe.

Know where you’re going.

Know what’s around you.

Know what could happen.

Know how you’ll get out.

Don’t leave too much room for surprises.

And here I was, deliberately driving down a road when I didn’t know where it went.

Part of me wanted to turn around.

I didn’t.

I kept driving.

It Was Beautiful

And here’s the part I think matters.

The road was beautiful.

It wound through the Alberta countryside, taking me through scenery I wouldn’t have seen if I’d stayed on the familiar route.

I found myself looking around and thinking how beautiful the drive was.

And I was still anxious.

Both things were true.

I think we’re sometimes given a very tidy version of what overcoming fear is supposed to look like.

You do the scary thing.

You discover it isn’t scary.

Your body relaxes.

Cue uplifting music.

Lesson learned.

That isn’t what happened.

The scenery didn’t cure my anxiety.

My nervous system didn’t look around and say:

Never mind. This is lovely.

The fear stayed.

So did the what-ifs.

There was still that part of my brain monitoring where I was, wondering how much farther I had to go and waiting for something familiar to appear.

I enjoyed the scenery while I was anxious.

That’s different.

And I think, for me, that’s much more important.

Maybe I Have Been Waiting for the Wrong Thing

I’ve spent a lot of time thinking that progress would eventually mean I wouldn’t be afraid.

That I’d heal enough.

Understand enough.

Work through enough.

And eventually I would become the kind of person who could simply take an unfamiliar road without thinking twice about it.

Maybe that will happen.

I don’t know.

But I’m beginning to wonder whether I’ve been measuring progress by the wrong thing.

Maybe the question isn’t:

Was I afraid?

Maybe it’s:

How much did fear get to decide?

That day, fear came with me.

It sat in the passenger seat and provided a running list of everything that could theoretically go wrong.

But it didn’t get to drive.

I did.

Then I Saw the Road I Knew

Eventually, the unfamiliar road connected with one I recognized.

And almost immediately, I felt it.

Relief.

I knew where I was.

I knew where the road went.

I knew how to get to Calmar from there.

My body settled.

That interested me too.

Because I don’t want to rewrite the story afterward and pretend the experience cured something.

It didn’t.

The unknown still frightened me.

The anxiety lasted until the unknown ended.

But something did change.

I learned that I could be frightened and continue.

That’s not the same thing as becoming fearless.

I’m not sure I even want fearlessness to be the goal anymore.

Learning to Live Through Fear

For a long time, fear made a lot of decisions for me without me realizing that was what was happening.

Avoid this.

Don’t go there.

Stay where you know the rules.

Keep yourself safe.

Don’t draw attention.

Don’t take unnecessary chances.

Stick to what you know.

When you’ve lived that way for long enough, the boundaries can become invisible.

You don’t necessarily think:

I’m not doing that because I’m afraid.

You just don’t do it.

The road becomes another road you never take.

I’m starting to notice those moments now.

And I’m trying, when I can, to make a different decision.

Not recklessly.

Not by ignoring legitimate danger.

And not by pretending fear isn’t there.

Just occasionally asking:

Is this actually dangerous, or is it unfamiliar?

There’s a difference.

My body doesn’t always recognize it yet.

But perhaps I can.

The Apple Fritters Were Still Waiting

Eventually I made it to Calmar.

I bought the apple fritters.

And because it was Friday, I bought two of the special honey crullers for my husband.

Then I continued to Devon for my appointment.

Later that evening, we had our pastries.

It wasn’t some enormous adventure.

I ran errands.

I went to an appointment.

I bought baked goods.

But somewhere in the middle of an ordinary day, I took a road I didn’t know.

And I discovered something I’m going to need to remember as I keep doing this Joy Quest.

I don’t have to wait until I’m no longer afraid to live.

Maybe learning to live after fear has controlled so much of my life isn’t going to mean eliminating it first.

Maybe sometimes it will look exactly like that drive.

My hands on the wheel.

My mind producing what-ifs.

My body uncomfortable with the unknown.

A beautiful road unfolding in front of me anyway.

And me deciding to keep going.