Air Sick

The other night I had the anxiety attack I was expecting. Except it came six days too early. I hate to fly. Actually let me re-phrase that. I abhor flying. To the extent that I usually have to be drugged and drunk to take a one hour flight to visit my best friend in San Francisco. (Although, she no longer lives there; she's now a nomad in South America with her husband.) Which brings me to my point.

To fly one hour to San Francisco was a chore. To fly five hours to visit my in-laws is a nightmare. (Not to see them! Just the flight getting there.) The longest I've flown was to France, which was a five and a half hour flight to D.C with a layover, followed by a six and a half hour flight to Paris. It was hell.

This coming Saturday, I'm facing a four and a half hour flight to Atlanta with a layover, followed by an ELEVEN HOUR FLIGHT to Buenos Aires, Argentina. Yes, I know I signed up for this vacation with enthusiasm. Yes, I know I'm safer on a plane than in a car/bus/ train/ bike/ unicycle. Please, don't tell me the statistics. I know them and it doesn't help.

It's an irrational fear. So I decided mid-breakdown to analyze it and see what exactly was causing the panic. Here's what I figured out, after crying for what seemed like hours.

I'm claustrophobic. I'm afraid of heights. (I also might be a bit of a control freak.) These three issues I've had all my life. Ok, now that we have that down; what does a flight entail? Being cramped in a seat, (with no way to exit,) being at least THIRTY THOUSAND FEET OFF THE GROUND, and in the hand of a pilot who I've never met. (Who I haven't personally given a breathalyzer test.)

I made myself try and get to the bottom of it. I tried to talk myself out of the "attack" by recalling memories of flying to Texas every year as a kid to visit relatives. Most of the time I was alone and escorted only by the stewards. (When I was a kid your relative/friend/parent could drop you off AT THE GATE! And you would be greeted AT THE GATE by your relative/friend/parent.) In retrospect, that was really comforting to get off the plane and have your loved one waiting for you. But I digress.

What I realized in this state of panic was that flying combines my three internal fears- fear of heights, claustrophobia and loss of control. The latter, I need to work on the most. And I will work on all of them in the future. But for now, I need to get myself on this friggin' plane.

When Hubbie and I were honeymooning we went to Oahu and Maui. At the airport in Oahu, while we were ready to board our flight to Maui I had the same panic attack. I went to the bathroom and sobbed in the stall. I actually started to figure out a plan to take a boat, and meet Hubbie in Maui a few hours later. To say I reluctantly got on that plane is an understatement. Thank you zanax.

I was able to calm myself down the other night, but now I'm scared for Saturday morning. I need to get on this plane. In fact, I need to get on the three flights we have booked inside Argentina, without blubbering in the bathroom or considering a bus. I envy those who fly without fear. (Tuna Girl- how the hell does your husband do it????????!!!!!!)

I'm not sure why I'm even writing this except that I've always written down my fears. I've kept a diary since I was eight years old and I believe writing is cathartic- and therefore maybe I can purge the anxiety I feel now. Rather than in the bathroom stall at LAX.

A friend of mine survived a plane crash in the Bahamas. She not only survived, but saved an infant on board and kept her afloat in the water before they were rescued. She is able to get on a plane now. If she can, so can I. Right?

If anyone has any comforting words, I'd appreciate them. I know it seems silly but I need to hear anything you've got. In the meantime, I'm going to work on the 'control issue' I have. I know I'm embarking on an amazing journey, filled with glaciers and penguins and whales, OH MY! So the flights are worth it.

And I'll come home with amazing pictures too! =)