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March 13, 2006

"Up On The Airplane" (2)

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I have a problem. I am afraid to fly. I sweat it for weeks before a trip-- my mind filled with dark thoughts. I’ll be putting on my shoes and think, “This is the last time I’m going to be tying these to my feet.” If I am flying with my kids, the visual of one of their little faces looking up at me in fear as we plummet becomes lodged in my head.

I have bad dreams. I’m usually strolling down the street when I look up at an airplane coming in for a landing or taking off. At the point I would normally look away at something else I don’t. That’s when there is usually a mechanical failure of some kind, smoke or exploding engine, which leads to an incredible crash.

When I’m at the airport, I debate getting on the plane and regret the decision to do so throughout the flight. In-flight, I try to distract myself, but I’ve gotten to the point that nothing works. The slightest bit of “chop” and I’m unable to read, I can’t listen to music, and strangely, compulsively, have to look out the window. I feel sorry for the poor sod that got the window seat if I’m stuck in the aisle or middle. I mean, how would you like someone drenched in fear staring past you for two or three hours?

I also have a silly notion that used to help me. If something is going to go wrong, it will happen in the first 20 minutes after takeoff. Now I have no idea what I am basing that on, but at that mark, I allow myself a small sigh of relief before moving on to tortured breathing again.

As we come in for a landing, I am terrified. But with every foot of altitude we lose, I begin to feel slightly better. Once the wheels touch, I’m fine. I’m reasonable old me again…until a few days before the return flight.

I used to fly without fear. Six or seven years ago I took a prop flight from Dallas to Amarillo-- a bumpy flight. I asked the attendant, “So the turbulence…normal, pretty bad, bad?” She looked at me with a nervous grin and said, “It’s bad.” I haven’t been the same since. (And there really is nothing like the yaw at the back of a prop plane on a hot, windy day in the Panhandle of Texas.)

I don’t know why I have developed this insanity. Is it that I’m getting older? Is it having kids? Is it the lack of control? I don’t know. Millions of people fly everyday. When I fly, why do I feel like I am trying to make an ascent on K2?

Everything I have tried has failed to work-- prayer, books, movies, music, drugs (prescribed of course), and Jack Daniels (lots of Jack Daniels). So on Wednesday I did something I thought I would probably never do, I went to see a therapist. (More specifically, he is a bio feedback specialist.) It’s not that I have anything against therapy; I’ve just always felt pretty balanced. Barring some incredible tragedy, I thought I might actually get to skip the couch.

I have a test on Friday to take some base readings. The plan is to use various instruments to measure my responses to stimuli and to measure the effect of relaxation techniques. After my initial visit I have some confidence that I can be in the 92% of people who have gone through this program with success. Unfortunately my next flight is in two weeks.

Posted by Rich at March 13, 2006 1:08 PM

Comments

Posted by: jeremygingerich at March 15, 2006 11:16 PM

Posted by: Rich at March 16, 2006 3:36 PM

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