My name is Cahmora, and even though I’m 18 and I know how to drive, my relationship with driving has been shaped by my mental health in a way that many people don’t see from the outside. I struggle with anxiety and depression, and because of that, I stopped driving for a long time. The idea of being behind the wheel responsible for myself and the people around me became something that made my anxiety worse instead of giving me freedom. That fear has changed the way I see driving, and it’s made me take impaired driving more seriously than ever. When I think about what impaired driving means, I think about how easily the mind can become unfocused, overwhelmed, or unable to react the way it needs to.

A lot of people misunderstand impaired driving because they limit it to alcohol or drugs. They don’t consider that impairment can come from anything that weakens your ability to make quick, safe decisions. For me, the fear and anxiety I’ve felt behind the wheel shows how much mental state matters. Even people who have been through driver’s education can struggle. They learn the rules, memorize signs, and practice parallel parking, but many don’t understand how much emotions, distractions, and fatigue can interfere with safe driving. It’s not always a lack of knowledge it’s a misunderstanding of how the brain works under pressure.

Today, some of the most common types of impairment include alcohol, drugs, texting and driving, and even extreme tiredness. These might seem like very different things, but they all affect the brain in similar ways. Alcohol and drugs slow reaction time, cause blurred thinking, and make people feel more confident than they should be. Texting might seem harmless, but even looking down for a second takes your eyes off the road long enough for something bad to happen. Fatigue is something most people ignore, yet it can be just as dangerous as drugs or alcohol. When you’re exhausted, your body reacts slower, your vision gets blurry, and you can zone out without realizing it. All of these impairments take away the full attention that driving requires.

My perspective on impaired driving became more serious after hearing about someone close to my family who was hit by a distracted driver. The driver wasn’t drunk or high they were just texting. That one moment of distraction changed everything for the people in the other car. They survived, but the injuries, trauma, and emotional pain stayed with them long after the accident. Hearing their story scared me, but it also opened my eyes. It made me think about how easy it is for one small decision to turn into something someone regrets forever. It also made me think about myself—how my anxiety tells me to be overly cautious, but how some drivers out there don’t take safety seriously at all. That accident is one of the reasons I don’t judge myself for being afraid to drive. Fear isn’t always weakness. Sometimes, fear is awareness.

Driver’s education and traffic school programs can help prevent impaired driving, but only if they go beyond the basics. Students need more than instructions they need to understand the real consequences of unsafe decisions. Programs that show real stories, real statistics, and real examples of impaired driving have a bigger impact. When people see how many lives are lost every year, or when they listen to survivors talk about their experiences, the lessons become harder to ignore. Traffic school can also help people who have already made mistakes. Instead of just punishing them, the classes teach them how to prevent future accidents and make safer choices. Knowledge matters, but so does empathy. When people understand the weight of their actions, they change their behavior.

For me personally, even though I’m scared to drive right now, I still feel responsible for promoting safer driving. I may not be behind the wheel every day, but I can still help prevent impaired driving. When I ride with others, I pay attention. If someone picks up their phone while driving, I don’t hesitate to say something. I offer to handle the directions or respond to messages so they can keep their eyes on the road. If someone seems tired, upset, or unable to focus, I suggest waiting or finding another way home. I speak up because I know the cost of staying silent can be too high.

My own struggles with anxiety make me more aware of how fragile safety can be. They’ve taught me not to take driving lightly. I want to use what I’ve learned to help others realize how important it is to drive fully present and fully capable. Someday, I hope to overcome my driving fear completely, but even now, I know I can make a difference by educating others, by encouraging safer habits, and by living what I’ve learned.

Impaired driving is preventable, but only if people understand what impairment truly means. It’s not just alcohol or drugs it’s anything that takes away focus, judgment, or reaction time. Driver’s education can guide people, but real change comes from personal responsibility, awareness, and compassion. As someone who knows the anxiety that driving can bring, I believe safety should always come first, and I hope to encourage others to make choices that protect their lives and the lives of the people around them