Traversing Travel Triggers
Day 48 (March 23, 2019)
Hey Lord,
For the love of all that is holy. If there was a flight in which I needed to have a row all to myself, it was this one for sure. I just really needed to be able to sit there alone with my thoughts and work through all that I had been through inside, and outside, the airport. I needed to remind myself of all the truths Dane had lovingly voiced to me over the phone; and I needed to be able to do that without the added stress of sitting next to a complete stranger on a very small, cramped, airplane. Lord, there were the normal difficult parts, but then there were soooo many new challenges that I was not mentally prepared to tackle.
To start out, one of the hardest parts was tearing myself away from Dane’s embrace. He walked me into the airport, and he stood with me while I checked in and printed out my ticket (since I prefer a paper copy). There was no need to get in the baggage line, since I only had one carry-on bag, so Dane walked me over to the US gates, pulled me to the side, and wrapped me in a big bear hug. My face was quickly smothered in kisses and each one made the separation a bit harder than the last. (Is it wrong to never want to be away from my love? He doesn’t seem to mind my desire to be near.) He squeezed my tush, signaling it was time for us to part. (Reminds me of all the times I had to say my “see you laters” to him at the train station, during our six years of long-distance dating, and he would signal it was time for me to get on the train by squeezing my bottom. Those were harder goodbyes.) So, I kissed my husband one more time (okay a few more times), and then got in back of the security line. We would smile and wave at each other, while I was in the line, until we could no longer see one another which, at that point, initiated the solo portion of the trip.
Security had its usual set of challenges. One being the different bottled solutions that seem to always be placed at the end of each conveyor belt. Today, one such bottle happened to be placed right next to where my bin of items came sliding out of the x-ray baggage scanner. The action of having to reach across the conveyor belt to grasp the other side of my designated bin—putting my hand awfully close to the spray bottle—caused my anxiety to skyrocket because instantly my OCD latched onto the intrusive thought that I had messed with the bottle and gotten the solution into the security checkpoint officer’s drink (which happened to be a few inches away from my hand and said spray bottle). That intrusive thought then spiraled into another thought in which my OCD tried to convince me that the security checkpoint officer would later become ill due to my supposed action.
Furiously, I worked to instill in my mind the truth of the matter. I reminded myself that I had not felt my hand hit the spray bottle, and I would have remembered picking up the spray bottle and squeezing the handle in order to get solution into the drink. Since there was no memory of such actions, my intrusive thoughts were just that, intrusive and incorrect versions of reality. Seemingly calm on the outside, I got my shoes back on, gathered all my items, and, as I headed towards customs, internally persuaded myself not to succumb to the overwhelmed sensation that was creeping up my arms. Customs was a breeze. Took me 15 minutes. (Oh, I was sooooo thankful that the airline’s website told me to get there three hours early, due to customs congestion, because I was really hoping to get to sit at my gate for multiple hours. Can you see me rolling my eyes, Lord?)
Speaking of gates, when I got off the custom’s escalator, I was expecting my gate to be connected to one of the two large waiting areas directly to my left and right. (Each flanked the large, typically clean, bathroom I was comfortable utilizing.) But, instead, I was directed to turn almost a complete 180 and head through a waiting area I had never stepped foot in before. As I walked through this unfamiliar area of the airport, I noticed another sign, near a door at the end, and it directed certain gate passengers to head through the door and continue on down the hallway. (Yep, Lord, your girl was one of those “certain passengers.”) The sign also read that it would be a seven-minute walk to the gates. Internally, I was intensely hoping that this new area, which was under renovation, would have a nice bathroom because I did not think it wise to run back through the maze in order to use my usual bathroom, right before takeoff, and run the risk of not being there when my zone was called. Boy oh boy, Lord, did you answer my prayer because, as I walked through the construction zone, I checked out the women’s restroom and it was even larger and cleaner than the one I normally use. (PRAYER ANSWERED!)
With extra time on my hands, I decided to find a peaceful spot to sit, near my gate and away from most people, so I could talk to Dane semi-privately. Over the phone, I worked a few things out that were still bothering me concerning the security area. Dane didn’t really say much on the call. Honestly, he didn’t really need to because, in that moment, I just really needed someone to listen to me, and then confirm to me that all sounded well to them too at the end of the conversation. Lord, he was so proud of me for working things out, for the most part on my own, and for a while I felt good and safe in my peaceful spot of the airport. That was until I decided to utilize the ladies’ room.
Lord, what is with people!? I mean, I thought bathroom etiquette was common knowledge. The obvious, unwritten, rule is that if there are like 20 stalls (okay even if there are only three stalls) you do everything in your power to leave at least one stall in between you and another person for privacy’s sake. In my case, the large bathroom had been empty when I walked in. So, I took a stall about 4 or 5 stalls down the row—leaving SOOOOO many available stalls to choose from and still have lots of space. And, you know what happened!!?? (Make a wild guess, Lord!) Some woman comes in and decides to take the stall right next to me. RIGHT NEXT TO ME! (What does everyone say about common sense, Lord? It ain’t very common that is for sure!) Want to know what else made this scene absurdly perfect, Lord? There was no music on in the restroom so, as you can probably imagine, the awkwardness level was at an ALL TIME HIGH. I was about ready to jump out of my skin! The awkwardness was palpable.
Thanks to that lovely—thoughtful—woman, my anxiety shot right back up, and I had a ridiculously hard time finishing up in the restroom. My mind felt so off, and I could not assure myself that my pant buckle and zipper were securely fastened. Not being confident in my actions caused me to check my pant buckle and zipper over and over and over again. All I wanted to do was walk out of the stall, but my mind was obsessing over the safeness of my pants, and it could not let go of the intrusive thought that if my pant buckle and zipper were not 100% secure, then I would violate someone. (I did not want to hurt anyone, Lord.) So, I stayed in that stall until I felt every nerve in my body scream for freedom but, even still, I could not leave until my mind said it was okay. Ugh, repeatedly I checked both my pant buckle and zipper and eventually—after like the 30th time—my mind felt assured, and it released me from my misery.
It was absolutely awful, and I left the bathroom completely frazzled and on the verge of a panic attack. Fighting back tears, I made it back to my peaceful spot and texted Dane to call me. For about 20 minutes, I spilled out every detail and clung to every truthful word Dane spoke to me. (Sometimes, I think I rely too much on Dane and not enough on you, Lord. I hope it did not hurt your feelings that I called on him to be my lifeline in this moment. I was careening off the ledge, and I knew that hearing his voice would help me to know that everything was okay—that I was safe—and the freefall, I was experiencing, was not going to be the end of me. Just know, that I know he is your gift to me, and his comfort comes from you.) The truth, that Dane spoke to me, helped calm the panic and allowed me to gather my wits before I was to head out onto the tarmac and onto the plane.
The tarmac was loud and overstimulating. It was a long walk, in which I had to pass by large pieces of machinery, multiple airport vehicles, and lots of lots of pressurized tanks. Honestly, all these different triggers combined into one large trigger. I just told myself that I needed to get onto the plane, and then I could sit down in my seat, close my eyes, and work through these final steps. That is why I said having a row to myself was so huge, Lord. (It was, no doubt, divine intervention! You are so good to me.) I was so thankful that I did not have the added stress of sitting next to a stranger but, instead, had space to spread out—both physically and psychologically—in order to work things out in a more peaceful state.
As the plane ascended, I closed my eyes and let my brain mull over all the different loading areas I had just traversed. The thing I was most concerned about was the idea that I might have messed with the machinery, vehicles, or pressurized tanks and that type of action could lead to someone getting hurt. But, instead of going with what ifs, I reminded myself that within each loading area—the gate’s hallway, the tarmac pathway, and the carry-on luggage drop off cart—there was always an airport employee nearby who would have alerted someone if they saw me do something wrong. Since that never happened, I could assure my exhausted mind that everything around me was fine, and it was safe for me to relax my mental defenses. (I could finally relax and wait for the extra pretzel bags the flight attendants love to give out on short flights like this! YUM.) Lord, traveling makes me so anxious. It is one thing when I am traveling with family but, man, traveling solo is a whole ‘nother animal. So, I want to thank you for two specific things concerning this travel day:
First, thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving me such an irreplaceable teammate in life—a teammate who knows every nuance of how I operate—because it is through his adept knowledge of me, that Dane is able to know when I need someone just to listen and when I need someone to counteract my ridiculous views on reality. Lord, because of you, I was gifted a man who can quickly and expertly walk me off the ledge, give me a virtual pat on the bum, and then send me on my way calmer and more collected. I know his gifts of patience and encouragement are given by your hand and, on days like today, I am filled to brimming with gratitude that you would enable Dane to exercise his gifts with me in such a swift manner.
Second, Lord, thank you so very much for preparing, ahead of time, a safe seat on the plane for me. It might be silly to some that I am so overly grateful to have had an empty row of seats to myself (okay maybe not that weird since I would assume many would enjoy such a thing) but, Lord, you and I both know that was an absolute lifeline—not just a luxury—for someone like me, who deals with OCD. (With nobody right next to me, what was there for my brain to latch on to and worry about? Nothing extra at all.) Lord, there were no added distractions, on the plane, waylaying my ability to work through the already difficult challenges I had experienced throughout my time at the airport. Father, because of my empty row, I was able to work through each thing I needed to calmly and efficiently and, in turn, enable my mind to be fully present for the upcoming moment where I would be joyfully hugging my loved ones. So, thank you, again, for all that extra space (both physically and mentally). It provided a peace I sorely needed. You are so good to me.
Always,
Your Daughter Kaitlan
P.S. I know there must be others out there that deal with major anxiety when it comes to travel. Some people might have OCD, like me, and feel overstimulated by the controlled chaos of a travel terminal, while others may not struggle with OCD but, at the same time, reach their limit of sanity due to nonstop travel stressors. No matter the case, Lord, I ask you to be a calming presence as we each traverse confusing bus stations, dauntingly large international airports, or complicated downtown train stations. Help our minds to not become overwhelmed as we go face to face with our triggers—whether they be in security, in a public bathroom, on a transportation surface like a tarmac, or on the actual mode of transportation itself like a bus, plane, or train—because we need our minds clear (not panicked) and rooted in true reality.
But if our minds become rattled, please provide us space and time to work out our anxiety, so that the rest of our travel can be enjoyed and not robbed of happiness. And, if we need a little extra help getting to that level-minded space, please give us the courage to come to you for help first and, if it isn’t too much to ask, maybe you can provide each of us a helpmate too, who is easily reachable in person or over the phone, that can keep us grounded in your truth. Thank you, Lord. We love you, tons!
Thank you for reading! If you are new, this is a chronological blog series. It is best read in order. CLICK HERE for the intro.