"I'm not a big traveler"

The amount of times I’ve lied to get out of a situation is kind of beyond comprehension. I always felt bad about it, but there was no denying the INSANE amount of relief I would feel when my excuse was accepted and I had dodged another outing. Dinners, beach days, concerts, bachelorette parties …even hair/massage/nail appointments that I had every intention of attending, would often result in a last minute cancellation or a hard no from the get go. These situations were all things others looked forward to…things I wanted to look forward to, but pushed me too far out of my comfort zone. If I had to worry about how long something was going to take…how hard it would be to leave if I needed to.. or how visible I was, I’d start thinking of excuses as to why I couldn’t be there. If there was any chance that I’d be locked into a place too long or too far away from my safe space, it was pretty much a guarantee that I wouldn’t be there. And if for whatever reason I HAD to be there, I’d be dying inside the entire time, psychotically obsessing over a clock and how much longer it would be until I could leave. So it kind of comes as no surprise that traveling, the type of event that encompasses all of my most hated things (being trapped, no escape, far from comfort zone, very visible) would cause me more distress than anything else.

Every single part about traveling (especially by plane) would send my nervous system into absolute freak out mode. And not just on the day of of travel, but continuously from the moment I committed to a trip/booked a flight. I would experience what I now know is called ‘anticipatory anxiety’ for months on end leading up to any sort of trip. My brain would try to map out all of the potential threats..always preparing for the worst case scenario in hopes I could plan for whatever disaster I was envisioning would take place. I would find myself waking up in the middle of the night panicked over how many more days I had left in the comfort of my own home before I had to trek out into the unknown. Watching a movie about traveling or being asked a question about my upcoming travels would trigger me so hard I’d end up bursting into tears or experiencing a panic attack on the spot. It would disrupt my sleep, appetite, energy levels and overall quality of life to an extent I can’t even explain in words.

When it came time to get my body out the door, I would always be at least 2-3 drinks in before I’d even consider calling an uber to get to the airport. I don’t think in my 29 years of life I’ve ever left my apartment to go on a trip sober. If I had time, I’d try to squeeze in another couple of drinks at the airport, frantically checking the time on my phone and counting down the last few minutes until I had to board the plane. Once on the plane, it would go one of two ways.. I’d be drunk enough that I’d relax or the alcohol would backfire and I’d spend the entire flight on edge. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve sat with my arms crossed, positioning my entire body to face the window, avoiding eye contact. Sweating, (silently) crying, heart pounding so hard I swear I could see it moving under my shirt. Even typing this out starts to bring up memories that I wish I could forget.

Once off the plane, I’d have a slight chance to catch my breath but would very soon after get triggered again when I was bombarded by all of the new stimulus associated with whatever new place I was visiting. New faces, streets I didnt recognize, plans I’d made to experience the city, all sent me back into flight or fight (or in my case, freeze) mode. It was not uncommon for me to spend a significant amount of money on a trip, only to cancel plans and order room service in the ‘safety’ of my hotel room. The only time I could TRULY calm down was when I was (trying) to sleep or alone in the hotel. It would once again leave me feeling relieved in the short term but also led to a fuck ton of guilt, shame and sadness for the people I was letting down and for the joy and experiences I was withholding from myself. It got to the point where I started telling people “I don’t enjoy traveling” so they would stop inviting me on trips. I’d go back home once a year max at Christmas to see my family..missing out on so many events and quality time with the people I loved most. I’d blame everything on my busy schedule, or financial problems or my cat who needed to be cared for. I’d say I didnt have enough PTO at work or had a big project coming up I needed to focus on. I’d get defensive, upset and angry when people would question me or press for more details. The worst was when I could hear or see the disappointment in someones voice or face. I’d spend so much time obsessing over what others thought about me, what person I was hurting, relationship I was risking. Only to fall right back into bed with my friend depression, ready to start the cycle all over again.

Through the work with my therapist and all of the exposure therapy I have done, I’ve learned to manage my anxiety a lot better. I don’t drink as much and I do my best to not stress about things that are out of my control, especially when the things I’m worried about are months into the future. I remind myself often that even if my worst case scenario happens (and it has), it’s not going to kill me. I can be temporarily uncomfortable, it will pass. Learning to both confront the things I’m most afraid of and have a more realistic mindset around traveling has opened me up to new experiences that I had shut off for so long. There are still times when I find myself reverting back to old ways or worrying the anxiety is going to creep back up when I’m not prepared, but for the most part, I am able to be present. This is something I truly never thought I’d be able to say so I suppose the real point of this post is to serve as a reminder that even the things we feel are too far out of our reach are accessible when/if we’re ready to receive them. It’s not going to be easy, but it will be so insanely rewarding. If I can do it, you can do it.