What if you fly?

Most people who know me know I have a fear of flying.

I can't pinpoint how or when it started. I had flown a couple of times and thought absolutely nothing of it. Then, out of nowhere, right after I got married, a paralyzing fear of being in a metal tube in the sky hit me like surprise turbulence at 40,000 feet. 

We had a trip booked with my husband's family that I threatened to cancel numerous times. I did end up getting on the flight, but not before a sleepless night and being physically sick the entire morning, not to mention having a panic attack when the plane took off. My in-laws had no idea what to do with this sobbing weirdo next to them. In the row across from my husband and me,  my mother-in-law just kept flipping uncomfortably through cooking magazines. My father-in-law, bless his heart, tried in vain to make me feel better by explaining to me how airplanes work. 

I have now spent the last 19 years dealing with this fear.  In the very beginning, I spent lots of time in fear of flying groups on the internet because knowledge gives one a sense of control, and, as I've learned, a fear of flying, like most phobias, is, at its root, a fear of not being in control.  (It's possible I MAY have some tiny control issues.... just sayin'.)

So I set about learning all about the mechanics of flying and what every noise and bump on a plane means. I studied statistics about airplanes and plane crashes.  Intellectually, I completely understood the remote odds of a plane crashing and how safe flying is compared to driving. The fun thing about anxiety though is that it rarely responds to logic. 

I've continued to make myself fly at least once a year because I'm rational enough to know that the last thing I want is for fear to be in charge.  I don't have panic attacks anymore, though I'll never be able to completely relax on a plane. My whole body tenses during take off and the most I can focus on during a flight is scrolling mindlessly through Facebook or maybe working on a crossword puzzle. 

I live for those last five minutes or so as the plane quickly descends, and the houses, roads, and trees once again become life-size. It's only then that I get the pay-off for having faced my fear -- that magical moment of walking off the plane out of the jetway and breathing in the air of a whole new place with the promise of an exciting adventure. 

THAT is the part I focus on and the part that makes it all worth it. 

Today, I faced another fear that gives me the same feeling airplanes do. I spent an hour with my kids' patience-of-a-saint piano teacher and got some help with my piece. I got some pushes, the good kind, with some gentle encouragement and hand-holding to step onto the plane one foot at a time, so to speak. (We anxious people need that sometimes.)  I even managed to play a little bit of my piece. As I suspected might be the case, my hands didn't really work the way they do at home. That's ok though, because, as it turns out, failing spectacularly doesn't actually kill you. #adultlifelesson

I actually had fun! Like a lot of fun!  I think it will be easier next time and yes, I'm positive there will be a next time.

Just like flying, the last few minutes when the world slowly came back into view reminded me that the payoff of facing a fear is always, always, always worth it.  And just like flying, I stepped outside at the end to find myself in a whole new place with the promise of an exciting adventure ahead.  (and a brand new piece to work on for February!)