Leaving on a Jet Plane

I wanna talk about it. I usually can get through stuff if I talk about it. But I can't right now because the words aren't forming. Maybe they will later so I'm going to keep writing.

I'm scared. I'm scared of being on an airplane. Lots of people have this fear right? For me, it's the whole damn experience. From packing to landing.

I hate trying to figure out what to bring with me. I live in pajamas most of the time so thinking of outfits to wear for a week is a challenge. I don't like going over and over my list of things to bring because I'm sure I've forgotten something.

I have to drive to the airport which  means I can't drug myself as soon as I wake up.  Driving to the airport is scary. It's crowded and angry and full of cars at the pick up/drop off spot. Everyone is in a hurry to leave or to be back home. It's super overwhelming.

Leaving the car with strangers for a week off the airport strip seems sketchy. Doesn't seem right to pay to keep a car in a parking lot. And I'm not too keen on driving home when we get back. Again, my drug intake is limited that way.

And then into the airport. More people rushing to get home or away. The sounds, the smells. It's a weird thing, airport smell. It smells like stale coffee, suitcase and anxiety.

Going through security, wondering the whole time if I've brought the right kind of shoes that will help me get through this quicker. Will my stupid underwire bra set off an alarm? Will they pull me out of line and make me spread my arms like a child playing airplane? Then my arms will be more out there more and you'll see that I'm fat and probably won't fit in my seat.

The seat. Fuck. I have to wait until we get there to see where I'm sitting. I probably won't even be sitting with The Hub because life is like that. I will have to cram myself into whatever seat they give me and try to find the best way to make myself smaller. I don't want to spill over into a stranger but that's going to happen because, wait for it, I'm fat.

I don't want to hear that neverending hiss of air as we fly 35,000 feet (or whatever it is) in the air through a germ infested tube. I don't want to hear babies screaming or people sneezing without tissues, or coughing or any of that. The noises seem so loud already and I'm sitting in a quiet room right now, feet firmly on the ground.

I don't want to have to fold my arm in like a wounded bird if I find myself on the aisle. I don't want to plaster myself against the window, irrationally hoping it doesn't open if I'm in a window seat.  And I sure as hell don't want the middle. Spillage on both sides, potentially onto strangers. I will have to cross my arms because that's the only thing I can do with them without awkwardly touching someone.

I don't want to crash. Pretty normal reaction to this excursion.

But my reactions aren't normal because I have fucking anxiety and I hate it. It does this shit to me 3 weeks before my trip. It gets me all worked up into panic at what might happen. 

"Everything will be ok."  I know this because everyone says so. It's very hard to explain that the fear of public humiliation is as strong as someone that fears flying in general. The same? No. But just as strong. My emotions are freaking the fuck out right now and it SUCKS.

I want to go on this trip. I like the person I'm going to visit. I'm looking forward to being somewhere I've never been and exploring new places. But getting there....

I want to be able to assure myself that I am not the only person in the world that looks like me that flies to places. Surely not all of them can afford 1st class or 2 seats to have more room. The airline will not look at me and shake their head, ask me to leave or switch sides to even things out. I am not a bad movie. I am a person goddammit not a freak show.

Then why so freaked out? Because any positive, reassuring stuff is a whisper going against a goddamn bullhorn of anxiety. I fight but that is quiet too. I want to give up louder.

I started writing this post  and I was scared. I still am but I'm angry and frustrated too. Anxiety keeps me from doing things I enjoy. It throws panic in before I can try and that makes for a lot of missed opportunities. Hate is such a strong word but I do. I hate the way anxiety makes me feel and who I am right now because of it. It makes me feel ugly and worthless and pointless too. And that's the fear.


To try and help myself get through this, I used tools from therapy.

What is the worst that can happen?
Besides crashing? Being humiliated.
What's so bad about being humiliated?
Are you kidding? It fucking sucks to be humiliated. And it hurts.
What's the worst that can happen if you get hurt?
I cry. Or have a panic attack. Or both.
What's so bad about crying? Or having a panic attack?
People will see me.
What's the worst that can happen if someone can see you?
They'll see I'm broken.
What's so bad about being broken? 


And it goes on. My main fear is being humiliated. I can't stop that from happening. If someone chooses to be a dick, that's on them. I can only be myself, even if I'm broken.

See that's a good place to stop except there will be another day, another entry where it will be much more like the top half of this blog. Because I might forget how to talk to myself like I did above. Or I might forget that I'm a person goddammit. Or I might forget that I have an amazing tribe of people surrounding me with love and support. I might forget and I'll need to come back here and remember.