My mom recently said to me, “Some people are drivers, and some people are passengers.” And based on that, you’re probably thinking that this will be an inspiring (or not at all inspiring) anecdote about being a leader instead of a follower.

But I actually want to talk about the passengers.

I like road trips, but I don’t like driving. I like my car, but I don’t like driving. I like my aux cord (a lot), but I don’t like driving. I have never liked driving.

And I could go on a tangent about Colorado drivers and snowplows and this odd habit people have of making a right turn from the left lane. I could talk about the shame I’ve felt for wanting so badly to live in a small town where I can just walk everywhere (driving = freedom, right? And why wouldn’t I want that?).

Or I could just skip to the real issue.

“Do you, like, never leave your house?”

Because that’s the obvious conclusion, right? I don’t like driving and avoid it whenever possible, so I must not have a life. And that’s shameful. It’s shameful to wake up every morning and plant myself in my at-home office and work until nightfall.* Shame-freaking-FUL.

*I feel this way sometimes. Then, I remember that most people don’t get to wake up every morning and pour themselves into something they really love. I turn that shame into gratefulness and joy. More on that in a second.

So, I guess this is a bad time to mention that parties also aren’t my favorite.

“You hate people, right? You’re one of those girls who sits in the library with her headphones on and doesn’t speak to anyone, ever?”

(HAHAHA, like I drive to the library. Why bother owning a Kindle if I’m going to drive to the library?!)

So, I don’t like driving and I don’t like parties, so I must be totally antisocial. (“OMG, you had to be homeschooled to make it to all of your dance classes?!”) Again, the obvious conclusion. Again, the shame. I’ve spent so much time over the last year feeling ashamed for following my heart and fulfilling my dreams that, in some moments, I don’t know whose voice is in my head. Is it mine? Is it a wrathful god’s? Is it a past employer’s? The worst is when it’s a friend’s.

Turning these harsh thoughts and feelings into something gentler is a process, and the first step in any mental process is acceptance. For me, the picture of being a passenger vs. a driver has done wonders during this stage.

You might be a passenger if…

• You prefer the passenger’s seat (of course).
• You feel like you can’t properly convey your thoughts/feelings, but there must be a way, but now you’ve been talking for too long (like a whole minute), and why does this always happen?! And why are everyone else’s words so LOUD?!
• You hate (and I mean hate) shallow conversations. I’m talking weather, pop culture and anything that sounds like “And she told him that she heard BLAH.” Especially at parties. Especially with people you know well.
• You like your house. Like, a lot. You’d live your life under your weighted blanket if you could, but, you know, groceries and stuff.
• But you also love people. You love helping.
• But wow, can you please have two, three, 50 hours to recharge? Thanks.
• You aren’t one to spill your guts to a crowded room, but for some reason, people seem to enjoy spilling their guts to you.
• You like plans, lists and maps. You have to plan for spontaneity, and good riddance because you’re the one who never forgets to pack floss.
• There is nothing worse than those awkward icebreaker games. Nothing.
• You’ve known your best friend for a decade, and you still have stories that she/he (likely a driver) hasn’t heard. She/he is confused by this.
• Confrontation? Don’t you mean a nice, chill movie night where we don’t have to talk to each other or look at each other or think about our frustrations at all, ever?
• You find your freedom in feeling relaxed. Relaxed enough that your brain slows down for a few measly minutes. Relaxed enough that you can hear yourself breathe.

The list goes on (human nature, WHOOP).

And despite what anyone else says, I’m here to tell you that if any (or all) of these things apply to you, you’re still awesome. So awesome. (Also, are you an INFJ, too? Let me know.)

Because while the driver was driving, you were appreciating a sunrise that will never happen again—ever. The sky shows off for us all the time, and most people only notice it when they’re feeling sappy.

While you were trying (and supposedly failing) to articulate something you could feel in your soul, you managed to say exactly what someone else needed to hear. Most people call this “magic.” You are.

While everyone else was getting dolled up for a party, you had coffee with a single friend for a single hour, and you don’t feel overwhelmed. You feel full.

While all your friends were out dancing in some crowded club, you had a Marvel marathon, and if that’s not the definition of a perfect day, what is?!

And while the icebreaker games raged on, you unashamedly (JK, your whole body felt like lead, but) started another of those one-on-one conversations that went a little too deep and not nearly deep enough.

Final Thoughts

The world needs drivers (I freaking adore mine), but it also needs passengers.

It needs people who can help the drivers navigate. It needs those who lead with their hearts and not their heads. It needs people who listen more than they talk. And that love we have for our homes? It’s why we’re so good at making other people feel safe.

Do not–I repeat: DO NOT–allow ANYONE–not your coworkers, not your friends, not your family–to make you feel guilt or shame for breathing into your own space. EVER. You are lovely and loved exactly as you are, by exactly the right people. Always. Every time.

I’m a passenger, and I’m still learning how to be cool with that. But I do know one thing for sure.

Passengers are just as important as drivers.

We bring the music.

Photo by Gregory Pappas on Unsplash