My MInimalist Car, and Flow

I was recently given a car by my family. Up until this point, Matt and I have only owned one car for the two of us. But it was time for my brother to upgrade to a company car, leaving his trusty 2010 Toyota Corolla up for grabs. The car wasn’t worth very much, so it ended up coming to me. One reason I was the chosen recipient is simple: the car has a standard transmission, and I know how to drive it. For those of you who have no idea what that means, perhaps you’ve heard the term “stick shift” as a certain type of car that has slowly been phased out by cars with automatic transmissions.

The reason my brother opted for the “standard” has to do with his notorious intolerance for negotiating with car salesmen. Instead of considering all the upgrades and “options,” he literally asks for the cheapest possible model of the car. This means no power locks; you actually have to put a key inside the lock on the door and turn it to open it. It also means no power windows; you have to actually roll down the window with a crank on the inside of the door. And of course it means a standard transmission.

I always found this lack of features hilarious, like antiquated quirks I haven’t experienced since high school, driving around in a death trap of a 1984 Dodge Omni. Another not-so-surprising quirk is the lack of USB ports, and the presence of a CD player of all things. Since I no longer own CDs, I’ve opted to just drive in silence instead. And yet, I love this car. I refer to it as “minimalist” for its utter simplicity, as well as the fact that I keep nothing in it, wanting to maintain its recently detailed interior.

But back to the standard transmission. I’ve been driving Matt around in my “new” car, and despite my thorough explanations of all the mechanics involved, he has outright refused to learn to drive it himself. Perhaps the most intimidating feature is the clutch. The clutch is for your left foot and must be used in combination with the gas and gear shift. Basically, the clutch must be down when you shift gears, moving the stick shift from gear to gear as your speed increases or decreases. Beyond that, it’s a tricky thing to explain if you’ve never learned how.

My mom always drove a standard when I was in high school and college, so she insisted on teaching me and my brothers how to drive it. And due to the present circumstances, I’m grateful she did. Driving my brother’s car makes me feel like I have a rare and valuable skill, and that gives me a little boost of confidence.

It reminds me of making lattes when I was working at a coffee shop- you’ve got both hands going, navigating the mechanics and timing of pulling espresso shots while at the same time sensing the subtle temperature and consistency of the steaming milk. When Matt witnessed me making coffee, he remarked that it looked like I was operating a 19th century steam engine, and driving this car is a lot like that. I like finding that sweet spot in first gear, releasing the clutch at the same time you gently step on the gas, and then finding a smooth transition through the gears, carefully judging when to shift and what gear you need to be in. I’m not used to it- it does require some concentration for me- but it’s just enough of a challenge without feeling overwhelming.

I recently read An Edited Life by Anna Newton of The Anna Edit blog, and she discusses how to achieve a “flow state” in your work. It’s a state described as being totally immersed and engaged in what you’re doing, resulting in maximum productivity and creative satisfaction. She includes a list of 6 requirements for achieving a flow state, all of which match up with driving that car:

1. You know clearly what to do (check)
2. You know how to do it (check)
3. You’re able to sense how well you’re doing it (check- the car is constantly providing feedback)
4. You have freedom from distractions (check- no CDs, remember)
5. You perceive the challenge as high (check- it’s been years since I drove a standard)
6. You perceive your own skills as equally high (check- I know I can get the car from point A to point B without disaster)

I can’t say for sure that driving gets me into a flow state, but it does help my self-esteem. I’m able to do something fairly easily that many people seem to think difficult. In recovering from mental illness, I think finding tasks like this can be transformative. Blogging has really been like that for me: the writing, of course, but also the uploading of content and photos to my website, formatting everything, editing, adjusting colors, adding links, etc. It took me some time to learn it all, but now that I’m able to do it and still find it relatively challenging, it makes for a good task to feel engaged in.

I’ve been working on some other projects lately, but am having a hard time “hooking in.” I feel overwhelmed and easily distracted, often procrastinating getting started. And the reasons for that seem fairly simple: I don’t know how to do these things, I’ve never done them before, and am often not even clear on what needs to be done. It helps to understand these obstacles, but it still means I get really frustrated at my piddly output lately.

Just when I’m getting really down on myself, it dawns on me that I have a weekly blog to write, and I actually know how to do that. And somehow I get hooked in and start writing. I head to the cafe in my new car, confidence building on the drive there. I take out the designated notebook, the designated pen- those decisions have already been made- and get to work. After a morning of struggling to exercise, to shower, to eat breakfast- to do these seemingly “easy” things that everyone else seems to do without thinking- I finally feel this glimmer of self-worth when I get to the harder things (the driving, the website). And that’s invaluable.

My self-worth has been so low for so long, it has often felt like there was no coming back. I thought I would continue to decline for the rest of my life, becoming less and less capable of taking care of myself. I’m still not up to making all my meals, still need to talk out loud to myself in order to get on the treadmill. But there’s something about these more challenging tasks that takes me out of myself, that makes me lose track of time and feel completely absorbed in what I’m doing. So maybe that’s where to start when you’re trying to come back from the depths of despair. Maybe it’s not the easiest things that happen first- maybe it’s feeling you can do something special, something other people might never attempt, and succeeding. Maybe that’s the way back to finding yourself again.