It always feels as if I’m chasing after the wind the way I gasp for breath during my panic-attacks. My heart pounds like the persistent waves against the crumbling cliffs. No matter how hard I work towards preparing myself for anything, no matter how big or small it is, I almost never know how to contain myself mentally and emotionally. All my life I've been given useful tactics and mechanisms on how to cope with my psychological disorder; anxiety. Yet, my never-ending flow of thoughts are constantly being filled with extensive loads of negativity and self-doubt, as per-usual. I'm always so embarrassed by the fact that my anxiety attacks might just be ten-times worse than the average human’s. “VANESSA!” shouted Mom from downstairs.

“Ma’am?” I instantly responded. Nothing. “MA’AM?” I repeated. This time, louder. Still nothing. I huffed and scurried downstairs to see what she wanted. Before I could say anything, she immediately began attacking me with her words.

“How long have you been awake?” she snapped.

“Not long.” I replied, rubbing my eyes. 

“I told you that the minute you wake up I want this kitchen swept and mopped before we go to the DMV. It’s a mess. I want it cleaned in the next 10 minutes or we’re not going anywhere.” she scowled while getting so close to my face to the point our noses could’ve touched. “The next time I come down here and my kitchen isn’t clean,” she started, this time calm and gentle, but boldly, “You’re moving back with your dad across town.” she said sharply. Choked up and on the verge of tears, I grabbed cleaning supplies and began organizing the kitchen.

Grandpa passed away in the same week that I was prematurely born, just around the exact same time period as my birth. Every now and then, Mom will tell/retell her unusual stories to people about the many different dreams she had dreamt regarding her pregnancy before going into labor with me. One including her dreaming about my grandpa holding newborn me, a girl, in his arms although the doctors were certain that Mom was having a boy. Another one including my grandpa relaying a message to her about the health issues that she actually ended up incurring later in life. Although I've never met Grandpa before, I sometimes also feel as though he communicates with me in subliminal ways to send messages, provide reassurance when need-be and help me make decisions in many situations. His favorite ways to communicate with me are usually through light sources; sometimes they’ll flicker in my bedroom. Also by draining the battery from my devices to gain energy from them, or of course through objects; I will oftentimes find my objects to be repositioned or misplaced, lacking some qualities of it or even broken. Most importantly, he’ll leave behind white feathers to let me know of his presence. Since then, white feathers have grown to have such a sentimental value to me. Every time I see a white feather, I think of Grandpa. I’ve never really mentioned any of this to anyone; I figured it would seem pretty unbelievable. So I’ve just always kept it to myself.

Today, after several months of preparation, I’ll be taking my driver’s exam for the very first time ever. My 16th birthday was at the beginning of May, and at first, my excitement to take the exam and experience the joy of having my license, and some sort of independence, was shooting through the roof. As of today, it’s almost winter. After months of holding back on this moment due to anxiety, the moment is now here and it feels as if my stomach is tied in knots. I don’t understand how this happens to me every time! One minute I'm filled with excitement and elation, the next minute I’m filled with nervousness and the regret of starting something I no longer wish to complete. It’s five-o’clock in the morning, I need to be at the DMV by six-thirty in the morning. I’m still sitting on the edge of my bed after a half-hour; not having moved an inch. Mom was loudly conversing on the phone with one of her close friends, not seeming to consider the fact that it was the crack of dawn. I heard her heavy footsteps as she careened down the hallway just before approaching my bedroom door and barging it open. “Vanessa, Bring all of your documents up from the basement, we need to leave in about 20 minutes. Forget nothing.”

She said in a stern tone as she scrunched her phone between her shoulder and ear while using a lint roller to remove small fibers from her clothing. “I already brought them up last night and packed them in my purse, I should have everything now.” I replied shakily. “Show me. I need to physically see them in your hands before we leave this house.” she commanded. I strolled over to my desk and pulled out the documents from my bag that was on the floor and showed them all to her. Instead of displaying her approval and satisfaction from viewing my proof, she walked out of the room and resumed her phone-call as if she never cared about whether or not I had the documents in the first place, she just wanted to give me an order. I hate when she does that. No signs of approval at all. I never know whether or not I'm doing the right thing around her. I’m always left wondering: Is she proud of me? Am I doing good enough for her? What could I have done differently to fulfill her needs? How can I improve on this, or that?

It’s now five-forty-five in the morning, we’re just about to leave. Mom has already been waiting in the car for a few minutes, and I’m having trouble finding my bag with all of my documents inside of it; although I had just accessed it not long ago while it sat on the floor next to my bedroom desk. “I don’t have time for this right now!” I hissed annoyedly through gritted teeth, in fear of being lectured by Mom as soon as I got in the car. After searching all other areas of the house, as a last resort, I went into the living room and hoped for luck. I strolled into the living room and immediately looked directly at the front door, and there it was slightly swaying back and forth as if someone had just touched it while hanging on the doorknob by the handles. It had a white feather peeking outside of it. I smiled, grabbed the feather and held it gently in my palms.  “Sorry, thanks.” I said with guilt. I snatched the bag off the doorknob and rushed outside slamming the door behind me.

“What took you so long? You know it’s about a twenty-to-thirty-minute drive to get there?” Mom snapped as I entered the car on the passenger’s side. “I was in the bathroom fixing up my hair for my ID picture, the flat-iron wasn’t functioning properly.” I falsely claimed before a sheer silence rose. I handed all of my documents to her from my bag. She grabbed them and put them in her purse.

I cleared my throat and started a new topic in an attempt to break the silence while we were on the road. “Maybe we should consider taking a trip one day? Just the two of us. It’s been a while since we’ve had any mother-daughter bonding time. The last time I remember us actually going somewhere together just to get-away and have a moment to ourselves felt like decades ago.” Mom raised her eyebrows, and nodded her head slowly in agreement. “Well, we haven’t been to Wisconsin in a while. That was the family’s yearly hotspot for vacationing. That should be fun if we do some looking into it.” She said with a slight grin as if she was witnessing happy nostalgia, before it slowly faded from her face in the remembrance of some sort of trauma. “How’s aunt Kate doing? Have you spoken to her lately?” I asked with curiosity despite knowing what terms they were on. Some monkey business between them that had to do with them wanting to share some of grandpa’s land together, that was meant to be bequeathed to both of them, as sisters. I only know bits and pieces of the story. “I won’t speak too much of her. She has her way of doing things, and I have mine.” A sheer silence broke once more.

We pulled into the parking lot upon our arrival to the DMV. It was now six-seventeen o’clock. We exited the car and walked towards the entrance of the building. In the midst of walking, I looked above to see a flock of birds with white feathers flying across the sky in a beautiful fluttering motion. I lagged behind my mom distractedly, and nervously fidgeted with my thumbs in hesitance to walk indoors. I felt myself panicking again. A dark cloud of anxiety had been hovering over my head for days now. I felt my head swell up with some of the most doubtful thoughts. The minute we entered inside I almost immediately felt the urge to vomit. “Hi, welcome! If you’re doing a walk-in please go to the left side of the room. If you already have an appointment scheduled with us please be seated to the right side of the room and we’ll be sure to assist you shortly!” shouted the receptionist to us, and a few other teenagers with their parents upon our entrances. Mom started to speak. “We can sit at th–” “I’m going to find a bathroom” I whispered hurriedly to Mom interrupting her. A perplexed look spread across her face and she stood in one spot as I sped around the building looking for a bathroom like a chicken with its head cut off, failing to notice how insane I might’ve looked. I eventually found a single-stall ladies’s room and entered inside before rapidly shutting the door. The nauseous feeling I had in my stomach miraculously vanished. My muscles weren’t as tense anymore. The sweat that was trickling down my forehead on my way to the ladies’s room was no longer existent. Confused, I ran some warm water in the sink, closed my eyes, and splashed tiny droplets on my face. Before drying my face, I looked up in the mirror with blurred vision from the water that had gotten in my eyes. Standing behind me, I saw a reflection of Grandpa.

I vigorously rubbed my eyes and looked up again at the mirror to confirm my viewings, and there he was; still standing behind me with his hands rested behind his back, and with a friendly smile plastered across his face in consolation towards me. He wore a white button-up shirt and ivory-colored pants with black loafers.  My lip quivered as bulbous tears started to roll down my cheeks before starting to cry. Not because I was afraid, not because I was upset, but because the connection I felt with Grandpa felt deepened. I stood there in disbelief, unknowing of what to do next. “What’s troubling you, darling?” questioned Grandpa in a gentle, feeble voice, slightly tilting his head to the side and knitting his brows in worry. “You can’t hide in here forever, you know. Running away from your problems is a race you’ll never win.” He advised. “Bathrooms are my safe spaces, when I get all undone about things. I’d dread having anyone see me like this, my anxiety is an imperfection of mine that I'll never be able to truly embrace. The smallest inconveniences are enough to send me over the edge, and with anxiety, my reactions to those inconveniences intensified to the max. I’ve been that way for many years.” I explained, drying my tears. “I’m surely aware of that, Vanessa. But whether you’ve noticed it or not, it’s become a tough habit of yours to sweep issues under the rug and postpone dealing with them at a later date instead of handling them right when they occur– that’s not good for you, dearest.” He worded blatantly. “What if I fail–” I asked. “What if you don’t?” he replied cutting me off with a grin and raised his eyebrows reassuringly. I bit my bottom lip with a reluctance to leave the bathroom and find my way back into the waiting room; returning back to my reality. I turned towards the door and In the midst of slowly extending my arm to grab the doorknob and push open the door, I abruptly stopped extending and quickly retreated my hand with agitation. “Is Mom going to scold me when I go back out there? Oh no, how long have I been here?!” I exclaimed with panic. Grandpa chuckled. “Take a peek at the time.” He insisted while pointing at the clock hanging on the wall, still grinning. I looked up at the clock, and shockingly, it was still six-seventeen. The exact same time it was when I first entered the bathroom. How was that even possible? I swore it’d been over an hour since I’d been in there. My panicky feeling quickly dissolved. “You’ve got until six-thirty to mentally prepare yourself before you take your test. You’ve practiced greatly enough for months leading up to this day, you’ve got full knowledge. Believe in yourself, don’t be so hard on yourself, dear.” said Grandpa. I looked up in the mirror at both of our reflections. A smile shakily spread across my face. Grandpa smiled back with faith and winked at me. I turned around in an attempt to give Grandpa a hug; he successfully managed to bring me to a peace of mind– something that just anybody doesn’t know how to do. Forgetting for a split second that he was only a spirit, I reached my arms out only to be met by his absence.

It was now six-thirty, shortly after I returned from the bathroom to the waiting room. I was sitting next to Mom waiting for my name to be called. While I was gone, Mom had already signed me in. I maintained a blank expression on my face while constantly spacing out trying to marinate everything that had just happened in the time span of um-teen minutes. I sat there staring at the mini fish tank that rested upon a beautiful antique desk. “Woodrolf, Vanessa?” Called the DMV staff. I looked at Mom before rising up. She grabbed my hand, smiled, and excitedly squeezed it. I was shocked by her fresh, affectionate demeanor. Did I miss her consuming a cup of coffee this morning? Had she re-woken up on the right side of the bed? Did someone give her a compliment while I was gone that made her day? She was rooting for me! 

“You’re going to do great. Take your time and try not to overwhelm yourself too much. Good luck!” She exclaimed. I smiled, and walked up to the receptionist desk in attendance. My driving examiner greeted me with a friendly introduction; we began the exam shortly after.

I was now long into my driving exam, and to my surprise, I haven’t panicked one time, I haven’t broken into any cold sweats, I haven’t had any breathing attacks, everything was going pretty smoothly to say the least. We were now towards the remainder of my exam, and from the reactions of my driving examiner, I’d been doing a good job. We were preparing for the last portion of the test that takes up the most points on the exam: parallel parking. I absolutely hated parallel parking, and I knew I hadn’t gotten much practice with it. And as Grandpa said, I’d been avoiding it. As I've done with the vast majority of my problems. My responsibility was to park directly in between four cones. If I hit the cones, I would automatically fail the exam. If I hit the curb, I would automatically fail the exam. Both seemed like terrible challenges to me considering the fact that my parallel parking skills weren’t the best. But, regardless, I still attempted. I began turning the steering wheel to pull in between the cones. The closer I got to the cones, the more I realized how tight of a space it actually was, and it felt almost impossible to park. Annoyingly enough, I felt my palms start to sweat and tremble. Just when I thought I’ve taken 10 baby steps forward, I've taken 100 steps back. I froze and stared blankly off into the distance not knowing what to do. “40 seconds left, Miss Woodrolf.” said the examiner. Suddenly, I heard a loud clanking sound that stemmed from the back of the car. “Did you hear that?” I asked, startled. “Did I hear what?” replied the examiner as he re-arranged his eye-glasses, genuinely confused. I shook my head and turned around to look out the back window. My eyes were wide as saucers. The cones had been repositioned and were now spaced farther apart!

“28 seconds left,” said the examiner. I chuckled, and proceeded to park in between the cones that had been re-arranged. I parked the car with full confidence. I looked over at the driving examiner as he was scribbling on his paper with an impressed look on his face.

“You got really lucky there with 28 seconds left, most examinees give up when they receive the first 40 second warning instead of just winging it. You deserve a pat on the back.” started the examiner, jokingly. “Congratulations, you passed!” he finished with emphasis. A massive wave of excitement rushed throughout my body. The joy I felt in that moment was indescribable. I relaxed my shoulders that were tensed up, and ran my fingers through my hair with so much relief. No more stress, no more worrying. I had completed yet another achievement on my list of objectives, and many more to go. As I happily looked out the windshield before zoning out, a split second before, I noticed a white feather gracefully fluttering around back and forth before gently landing on top of the hood of the car.