Pgh Lesbian Correspondents

In October 2023, I began writing about two specific trauma experiences arising from my experiences the previous August – police interactions and riding in cars.

Since then I’ve been working to process both. This post is about the car trauma.

How I realized I had car trauma

Back then I wrote “Then we layer in a form of exposure therapy. I can’t ride in the backseat of any car and I can’t ride with strangers. So no ride shares for me. No bus for me. No backseats for me. If I try, I have an anxiety attack. My heart pounds, my breathing gets shallow, time stops, and I feel absolutely terrified.”

When I was dumped in the parking lot of Western Psych hospital, my friend Sarah picked me up and I got into the front seat of her car almost incoherent with paralyzing shock. A few days later, she drove me to the hospital for back pain. Then I had a ride into town to file for the PFA.

All these trips – I was in the front passenger seat. I was doing scary things and my world was spinning so I didn’t notice an issue with the car.

A day or so later, the family went somewhere, I don’t recall the destination. It was banal like a trip to the store or a local restaurant. My friend has a Ford Explorer, dark with tinted windows. As I walked to the driveway, I could feel my heart beating loudly inside my head. I was going to ride in the backseat with my nephew.

But I couldn’t. I had an anxiety attack there in the driveway, flashes of my not so distant forcible removal from my home surrounding me like they were real, not memories. I could hear the click click click of the handcuffs securing my arms behind me, hear my deep breathing, reliving those awful moments.

My friends know trauma and anxiety reactions. I was quickly reassigned to the front passenger seat and off we went.

Of course, I told my therapist.

She prescribed exposure therapy, I go out to the driveway and sit in the backseat of one of my friend’s vehicles. I keep my feet on the ground and I do something sweet like watch a cute video clip for five minutes. Eventually, I’ll work myself up to putting my feet in the car, one at a time, then closing the door, seatbelt, etc. And then go for a ride with my friends driving. And then hopefully I can sit in the backseat while a friend drives their car.

A lot of work. A lot of negotiation and explanation to people with cars. A lot of missed experiences. A lot of justification to folx about why I couldn’t meet them, couldn’t just take a ride share.

As it turned out my ‘car anxiety’ was quite specific – I could (eventually) ride in vehicles with my friends driving and sit in backseat (eventually.) Even the thought of riding with a stranger – especially a man – sent me spiraling back to those two police officers fastening me in a cruiser. How would I get out if there was a car accident? Would anyone know I was there? Would I subject to more harmful behaviors?

This went on for nearly 18 months. I was able to comfortably ride with my friend’s brother – whom I knew. I could ride with another friend’s husband – whom I knew. I rode with male friends and my nephew.

This went on from August 2023 to March 2025, well really May 2025. Almost two years. I could ride with friends. I could sit in the backseat. I could not ride with strangers. I tried to ride the bus that’s one block from my house and had another anxiety attack. I could also drive cars just fine – I used ZipCar, rentals, a friend’s car, and Gertie for a month. That was all fine.

After dealing with some more pressing issues, I finally felt ready to process this trauma. Repeated attempts to do it had been physically painful. I need the freedom to get in a car and go somewhere. Not every day, not very far. But the dependency was hard, the sense of isolation worse. So my trauma therapist whom I see 1x week (I see my other therapist 2x week) and I agreed to start.

Exposure therapy in action

We etched out a plan and began with EMDR to pinpoint what was happening and were there any triggers. My biggest moment of anxiety was the idea of being locked in the backseat of a vehicle driven by a man – recreating my experience with the police.

We decided that exposure therapy was the best approach. She and I worked out a series of incremental steps, setting a goal of one per week. I chose Uber.

First, my friend Diane drove to my house and I ordered an Uber to take us together to Eat’n Park in Avalon. Then I ordered another to take us home. I have innate trust in Diane and she had a lot of Uber experience. She distracted me with tales of her kids and grans. The drivers were a little chatty, enough to break any tension. When we returned home, I left a tip and rating. Diane and I chatted a bit, then she was off.

I then went inside and sat with my thoughts, doing a body scan, noticing what resonated with me.

Then a second repeat.

I felt a little apprehension, a little awkwardness, a little sticker shock. But I wasn’t afraid.

The next major step required me to get into the Uber solo, pick up a friend, and go somewhere together. I opted to pick up Marie who lives two blocks away and we took a cat to Animal Friends. We were fussing at each other about the cat and the timing so again I was distracted. I intentionally spoke conversationally with each driver. On the return trip, the one way alleys meant it took nearly 10 minutes to go two blocks. And that was good.

It went well.

My final step was to take an Uber on my own to a destination that was fun – not productive, not to meet someone, just fun. I decided to take myself to Applebees where I enjoyed a steak dinner and a glass of sangria because I wasn’t driving. I’ve never minded eating solo – it had been over two years since I had done so. The restaurant was pretty empty. Ordering a drink and promising to order dessert meant great service.

I did learn something on this trip – Uber has a four digit code feature as a safety tool. Both the rider and the driver can request the code. The rider leans into the front passenger window to confirm the code. This reduces mixups in bookings and adds a level of security.

I did have some anxiety after I was dressed and ready to go. Trying to convince myself not to spend the money, wait another day, etc. I did some breathing exercises and ordered the car – no going back now.

Again, both male drivers. One was a bit talkative but not chatty. I sat back in the seat trying to ground myself – feel the seat, smell the fresh car smell, listen to the radio, even watch the road around me. On the way home, one of my favorite songs ‘That’s Not My Name’ by the Ting-Tings was on the radio followed by a Katy Perry song. I was overwhelmed with nostalgia for when I would drive and listen to the radio. My eyes teared up as I realize how this process of regaining my independence also brought something else I had lost to the surface.

What comes next?

When I got home, I felt pretty okay. I did another body scan and made some notes to share with my therapist the next day. That first moment of contact with the door handle was uneasy. But I was clear that this was a memory, not a trauma experience. It wasn’t really happening that day.

My therapist told me that exposure therapy tends to ‘stick’ without repetition. The frightening memory with the police had been processed, now just a terrible memory that was no longer disrupting my life. Moving forward, she wants me to take an Uber every two weeks or so – mixing up tasks with fun places. But that’s more about my overall social anxiety.

I remember the first time we targeted an anxiety experience in 2018 or 2019 (guess I don’t remember?) – I picked someone knocking on the front door. That typically sent me into a complete fear reaction and I never, ever answered the door. Getting Ring helped. But we used EMDR to process that anxiety and it definitely has stuck all of these years.

So I believe my therapist.

This is not the only trauma from the August 2023 incident. I have a terrible time being around any law enforcement. My trust in local government is almost nil which has seriously impacted my blogging. I struggle deeply with the fear of being involuntarily committed under false pretenses again. There’s literally nothing preventing that happening – not the state, not the County, not any part of the system.

We have work to do, but now I can get to the pharmacy and medical appointments and maybe even Applebees. It isn’t a cure-all approach but it is hard fought progress – 20 months of trauma insidiously derailing my life.

20 months living with the trauma, 20 months of working to process it. I started in the driveway willing myself to get in the backseat of my friend’s car and I ended exiting an Uber at my front door 20 months later.

Lingering grief

Even as I type this, I feel so much sadness for what I lost during these 20 months. And a new appreciation for the experiences of people who are detained or arrested by law enforcement. Appreciation isn’t exactly the right word.

Grief is the word.