Some of what I’m about to reveal here may lead you to believe that I’m certifiably crazy. I wasn’t even sure if I should actually put some of it in writing, you know, be careful what you send out to the universe and what-not. But this is something I struggle with, and it is debilitating.
Of all the emotions I’ve ever felt, the worst of them has to be fear. And I’m not talking There’s-A-Spider-On-The-Wall fear, I’m talking paralyzing, I-Can’t-Move-Right-Now fear. Which I guess for people with arachnophobia could be the same thing. But for me, flying, heights, and being home alone are gripping fears. My husband is on a plane on his way to Sydney for work right now, and when he left this morning I almost cried. My fear of flying apparently extends to fear of loved ones flying.
The taxi came to pick him up at 4:30 this morning, and all of a sudden every noise seemed magnified. Add to that that all I could think about was him going to the airport to get on a plane…there was no way I was going back to sleep. They’re supposed to land in 4 minutes, when he calls me to let me know he’s there, I’ll be able to get on with the day.
I am not really sure where this fear of flying comes from, but it’s a lot more than just thinking “Mike’s on a plane, I hope he’s ok.” My imagination is out of control, to the point where I’m watching Sunrise and the thought of them interrupting a segment for breaking news of a plane crash runs through my mind. Yesterday I made myself so upset, wondering what I’d do if I lost him, that I thought I was going to throw up. I even went as far as to think about how he’d feel, knowing the plane was crashing. This kind of thinking can not be normal. I just checked VB’s website and saw that the flight has arrived in Sydney. Now I just have to worry about his return flight tomorrow. I tried to tell myself that there was more chance of his taxi crashing than his plane, that just made me worry about the taxi ride to the airport. You know when you’re waiting for a flight and they ask for volunteers to bump to the next flight because they’re overbooked? Do you know what goes through my mind at that point? It’s not, “Sweet! I’ll do it, free flight anywhere!” It’s, “Which plane am I supposed to be on or not be on…what if I change flights and that one crashes, or what if I don’t and THIS plane crashes?” And to raise this to the next level, I’m not sure this is something I want help with or want to get over. What if as soon as I’m not scared of it, something happens?
People who say you can get over your fears by confronting them head-on, must know something I don’t. We took no less than 6 flights within a 1 month span when we moved to Australia, and I thought that might help me get over my fear of flying. But it hasn’t.
The fear of being home alone started when Mike and I moved into our house in Atlanta. Mike drove up to Detroit to get his boat and 30 minutes after he left to head up there, I was already hearing things and freaking myself out. He ended up being gone 4 days or so, because his truck broke down. Each night I slept with a baseball bat beside my bed, lights on throughout the house, and a dining room chair with pots and pans on it planted firmly in front of the front door. The weird thing is, I was fine during the day, it was when it got dark that I turned into a paranoid nut.
Before I met Mike I had my own apartment and was fine on my own. Is this what being co-dependent is? I don’t know how I’m going to get to sleep tonight.