Up In The Air

So here I am, at the airport terminal, waiting for my flight to board. I hate flying. I hate everything about. But I am waiting to walk step by step to board the plane. Here you go, Mr. Pilot and crew...here is control over my destiny, my destination, my freakin' LIFE. I know I don't know you, but supposedly you're alcohol/drug free, up to safety standards, and know what that little button on the left does. Hopefully you can land this bird, no prob. But just a little reminder from little 'ole me: I have a family here. I have two dogs. I have a husband who I hugged so tight this morning I may have dislocated a rib. So if you could PLEASE just return me to where I started, I would be most grateful.

Yes, y'all, my fear is really that bad. I'm okay now: I have some magic pills that make the anxiety disappate. I've been on airplanes since I was five years old. I have flown to Hawaii and back (not a short trip for those who are geographically challenged). Why, in the past few years, has flying become such a personal fear for me? I mean, I literally spent my WEDDING NIGHT laying in bed eating mac 'n cheese from the reception with no thought of consummating my marriage because my new husband and I were flying to Mexico the next day. The thought of boarding the plane had me convinced it would be my last night on earth and I needed to compensate with cheese, dang it! I'm surprised I didn't board that plane to Mexico by myself!

So I am back in this circle of fear. Scared, but also looking at myself and going, you wuss. You can dead lift 220 lbs, almost do a for real push up, and can eat spaghetti squash like a fiend. You're scared of transportation that is safer than riding in a car and train? Get over it.

And maybe I will when I'm safely on the ground again.