Water under the bridge

Key West. End of the line. Sun, sea, sand.

It’s beautiful. It’s a magical place, the southernmost point in the United States. And to get there, you have to cross the Overseas Highway, 113 miles of islands and bridges.

I hate bridges.

In my journey to overcome agoraphobia (extreme anxiety), I created a lot of checkpoints for myself, tests designed to see if I’d actually made any progress, or if I was still in the same small, scared place where I began. This approach took a lot out of me, and it took me years to learn that this was exactly the wrong way to handle anxiety.

But I didn’t know that at the time, and so I told my wife I wanted to rent a motorcycle on my 45th birthday and make the six-hour trip from Fort Lauderdale, Florida to Key West. Doing so would require crossing dozens of bridges, but I’d always wanted to go all the way to the end of the line, just because. She said yes, I got the bike, and got on the road.

I felt tremendous. The wind in my face, salt smell in the air, gulls above and the blue water stretching for miles in every direction. I drove with tears streaming from my eyes because I was LIVING.

I stopped halfway in Islamorada, a beautiful place where the late, great Ted Williams used to keep a boat (and which has some of the best fishing in the world). I loved it so much that I decided to stay over. I grabbed a bucket of Coronas, went to the pool, and relaxed…until a feeling of complete and utter panic came over me.

I was at a loss. I searched for reasons why I felt the way I did. Then it came to me: the next day, I would have to go over a 7-mile bridge connecting Knights Key to Little Duck Key. I was furious that I felt so afraid, and started swearing. I considered heading for home.

When I saw the bridge, my anxiety came up like a hot wave. So I used one of my special techniques–I began to sing. I should note that driving a motorcycle 95 miles an hour while belting out Kenny Chesney songs is not a healthy way to handle anxiety. But hey, we all make mistakes.

The biggest mistake was that by driving fast and filling my mind with music, I was essentially trying to outrun the fear. And you can’t outrun it. You can’t out-lift it. You can’t out-anything it. You just have to let it come in and deal with it.

I slowed down–80, 70. I kept singing and a funny thing happened. Instead of singing to keep the fear at bay, I was singing because I enjoyed it. And I was enjoying the ride! OVER BRIDGES.

I cried. I wept with joy and exhilaration at being alive. I wept at feeling free. I kept going, and arrived in Key West. I checked into the Westin, put my bike away, and called my wife. For the fist time in a long time, I didn’t have to lie to her–I actually did have a great trip. I thanked her for encouraging me to take it.

Then I took a stroll to the end of the line, where the road goes no further, and took this picture.