Fear of Flying

It is truly difficult to explain to anyone who does not have a phobia what one is actually like. Every time I say that I have a flying phobia, inevitably, someone will say something along the lines of, "Well, a lot of people don't like flying.", or "A lot of people are afraid of flying.". And that's fine. I believe this is generally true, that many people have a moment of discomfort at the loss of control. Or don't like being squished into a seat that is uncomfortable for so long. Or don't like being that close to strangers. Or are worried about breathing in all that recycled air.

But these people don't have a phobia, and I do.

Because I cannot give up flying as a means of travel, I cannot possibly count how many times in the course of my life I have been reduced to a crying mass of red eyes and snot terrified and convinced that I was about to die. I can say that I have never been on a flight where I have witnessed anyone else having the reaction I was having, though I have seen people deal with their obvious fear in different ways to how I deal with it.

How I feel on a plane is not common- not like general discomfort or fear. It is irrational, illogical, and is defined by the description of the word 'panic'. When I mentally fall apart on a flight, I am in fact having a panic attack. My panic attacks are not characterized by doing anything stupid (for example, having an irrational urge to "Get off this plane right now!", regardless of being at 35,000 feet). No, my panic manifests itself by uncontrollable crying and the fervent belief that death is imminent.

This is not fun.

It is not enjoyable to have a phobia. It is not nice to think in advance you are going to make a spectacle of yourself or be the laughingstock of the plane. It's not pleasant to know that in any other circumstance, were I to witness someone else behaving as I do, what would go through my mind would be, "What is wrong with that person?". And it's not nice that my days leading up to a flight are generally overshadowed by something that I can only describe as dread.

Last week there was a plane crash in Spain. This morning there was an emergency landing of a Ryan Air flight that lost cabin pressure. So of course my phobic filled mind is considering that bad things come in threes and one more is now due. I know it isn't logical. And really what I'm trying to do is tell myself that the Quantas plane that recently made an emergency landing because of the big hole in the side of it could count as three. Of course if my phobic mind takes over, then it says that really, that's two emergency landings with no deaths- that the fatal crash doesn't count and now we're due a third plane malfunction/emergency landing type situation.

Yes, this probably makes me somewhat crazy. At least it's localized.

Still, I wish I didn't feel this way. I keep thinking of friends and family who have flown recently and how they have all been fine. How I did not worry about them excessively and they went hither and yon and made it back safe and sound and without incident. This is what I want my thoughts to be like when I think of me. But sadly, when you have a phobia, it just doesn't work out that way.

All I can think is that this could be my last post you see. That's the phobia talking. Well. the odds are highly against it. I'd have a better chance of winning the lottery. Still, I can't push off the thought completely. These could all be my last hours on earth.

Having a phobia is horrible.