I recently flew for the first time in what seems like forever. Preparing for a recent flight was truly a test of my synapses of steel. Imagine my dismay when I found out that the size of conditioner I would be allowed to take on the flight was just a little bit more than what I use on a regular basis to quell my twisty thirsty curls. Fortunately I was able to reach out to my bestie, who had arrived before me and is a seasoned traveler, and make an urgent request for “the shampoo/conditioner with the yellow top“ and “the gel in the black bottle with a red square”… helpful eh? My superhero bestie was able to find exactly what I needed and have it ready for me upon my arrival. And btw the top was not yellow.
The morning of my travel day arrived and I was already a mess, and had not yet even boarded the plane at 4:30 AM. Visions of having to strip down for security officers, of missing a flight, and of any number of other things that could go wrong plagued my heart. My sweet husband was kind enough to drop me off right at the front doors, and direct me towards the bathroom, then explain the hallway to get to Check In, and the security screening procedures. I went through everything feeling extremely confident. That was until I got in the security check line… I really don’t even remember what my issue was. I do remember talking to every single person that was around me because the worst my anxiety got the more my jaws flapped. I have this unfortunate side effect of anxiety … babbling. As a result, I can often times not make an excellent first impression. I finally found my way to the gate, and then waited for my section number to be called. And waited and waited. Only to realize at the very end that I had been called many sections before. I ended up being one of the last people on the plane. I tried to make my way down down the aisle with a suitcase that appeared to have a getaway mission in mind. It just rolled and move in directions opposite to what I hoped for. I managed to graze people’s hands with the suitcase and follow up smash them in the head with my over the shoulder Vera Bradley overnight bowling ball (at least it felt that way). Saying “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m new at this” the entire way from 1st class to row J. I finally found my row and my window seat. Much to the dismay of the beefed up men around me. I was given many a begrudging look and words as I again apologized and hoisted my 700 pound suitcase up into the overhead bin. And then the acrobatic attempt to squeeze between the seats and shuffle past the men into my seat. As I sat down, I tried to slowly lower myself into my seat as gracefully as possible … does anyone know me?!? Grace is not me, I instinctively grasped the seat in front of me when I stumbled over the seatbelt on the floor. The man in front of me looked over his shoulders and said “watch it“ in such a tone that I sat down immediately like a chastised child. I spent the remainder of the flight trying to take up as little space as possible. I squeezed my 5’9 frame against the window and tried to evaporate. I did an excellent job… until the plane landed. The wheels slammed into the tarmac causing my head to ricochet off the window and into the man seated beside me. My instinctual response? “Hi!” <insert hands on face>.
Exiting said plane was even more exciting… Transcribed from a voice message I sent:
That had to have been the worst getting out of a plane that I’ve ever done. I got so anxious ’cause there were so many people behind me that my pants got stuck on the middle tray of the person sitting next to me when I was getting out and pulled that whole thing down. Then my bag spills over and the little part that I had open dropped my water onto the floor, which rolled underneath the seat. Then I went to go take my suitcase down. I got it down and then I started trying to carry it out and I dropped my sweater and I tripped over it . So, needless to say, I was apologizing on the way out to everybody and I just left the water there. So let’s hope getting onto the next plane is less eventful.
The next flight was delayed. And then on the return? I had to take my suitcase 6 rows past my seat to find a spot for it. Getting back to my seat was not easy. Imagine my exit that time.
It was only after a bit of a respite that I am able to see the small glimmer of silver thread. Life is always bound to have moments that make you want to curl up like a clam and hide. But making it through the flights that felt akin to my own version of Game of Thrones, I realized now I overcame a longstanding fear. Flying alone post 911, with 4 precious soul filling children now in my life, and the hopes and visions for the future for them make my choices and moves ones based with a sprinkle of fear. There’s a line between bravery and fear that is nestled in awareness. In doing the thing, even though we are afraid. Knowing that the small bravery moments allowed me to be present in a time and place where I was needed and wanted to be. The small moments that became laughable have made a difference. And that’s what ultimately helps keep me sane.
Keeping (in)Sanity 