I have had it for as long as I can remember, not that I ever let it get in the way. My family has traveled a lot my whole life, and then I went and landed myself a long-distance boyfriend who lives just far enough away to make flying the only reasonable mode of transport if I ever want to see him. Ever. So flying is what I do.
For the most part, I can keep the phobia under control. On transatlantic flights, I pump myself full of sleeping pills or tranquilizers. Even though they hardly ever actually succeed in getting me to fall asleep, at least they keep my nerves from escalating out of control. And on short domestic flights... well I take those so often I can almost view them as fun -- I tell myself that I've always wanted to be able to fly and this is my one and only chance. The flights are short enough that I can convince myself there isn't even enough time for anything to really go wrong... and just as I start to panic we're already beginning out descent.
But on a 22 hour flight to Africa....... now we're pushing all my limits.
I will have to put my flying pants on.
And my thinking cap.
And other useful attire......... as if there is such a thing.
And I will have to bring every book in my library.
And an entire medicine cabinet's worth of anti-anxiety pills.
And remind myself that I'm going for good reason: to see a place I've never seen, and my best friend whom I haven't seen in a long time; to bask in the sun in my bikini (which reminds me I need to hit the gym immediately and stop baking/eating cupcakes); and to see penguins for real in real life.
It will be my first voyage to Africa, a once in a lifetime opportunity.
No way will I let some pesky, good for nothing phobia stand in my way.
Two weeks.
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