Isn’t it funny, how you can be so tightly wound and stressed-out that doing something you fear the most sounds like the best idea ever. That was me, a few weeks ago – stressed to the max, when a friend asked if I was interested in a girls weekend in Sydney. “I’M IN!” I texted back. Then I thought, “Fuck. I have to get on a plane. By myself.” For a while I considered all kinds of reasons to get out of it. But the truth was, I was so desperate for a break, to get away from life, and I joked that, “I may not ever come back!” Partly because I really thought I wanted to run away forever, partly because I thought “I’m flying, that’s it, I’m going to die!”
I will admit, I needed anti-anxiety pills to help me get through both flights, but I did it. On my own, with only minor freak out at the end where we were landing and everything underneath us was black – water – until the last minute when THANK GOD THERE WAS LAND! And my mind wondered, “Who the fuck builds runways out into the ocean anyways?”
A friend of mine said, “You sure do fly a lot for someone who is terrified of flying.” Well, I have two answers to that. Firstly, I don’t think flying three times (six including the return trip) in 18 months is “a lot” and secondly, I don’t want my irrational fear to keep me from doing things, seeing places and visiting people I love. As a bonus to having a girls weekend, I also got to meet my new baby nephew and see my 22 month old niece on this trip! I got 4 nights away from reality. It was exactly what I needed.
So what if I needed a small dosage of Xanax to get there and back. So what if I was terrified for 20 seconds that we were going to land in the water? The 5 days away made it worth it. Funnily enough, when I dropped my son at school Friday before going to the airport, I cried the whole way back to my car. Mostly because I was really going to miss him, a little bit because I thought, “If my plane crashes, this will be the last time I see him.” I have a flare for the dramatic. I wanted a break so badly, but when it actually came time to leaving, I didn’t want to go. I was coming home Tuesday night, by Monday night I missed home so terribly a part of me wished I was going home that night. Two nights away wouldn’t have been enough, but four was one too many. A little tip for any of you considering a break from reality.
I may not ever really get over my fear of flying, but I will find ways around it, ways to manage it. Otherwise I will miss out on so much.
What fear do you feel and do it anyway? What don’t you want to miss out on?
Linking up with Essentially Jess for I Blog On Tuesdays