Flight Anxiety: A Play By Play

As I've mentioned before, I have terrible flight anxiety, fear of flying, all of the above, whatever you'd like to call it.  I have, on occasion, even passed out briefly due to a panic attack on a long flight.  Why, you might ask, do I continue to fly if it causes such overwhelming anxiety and panic?  Well, you see, I'm blessed/cursed with the double-edged sword of a fear of flying and a love of travel. I love seeing new places and visiting favorites again.  I love spending time with my family and visiting old friends.  And sometimes I only have a couple of days to visit someone in a place that would take a day to drive to.  And sometimes those new places and favorite spots are overseas.  And sure, there are boats.  And OK, I could spend 20-something hours driving to spend a day somewhere.  But sometimes flying is just the only practical way to get somewhere.

I have often - half jokingly - thought (and occasionally said) that I should note my thoughts on an ongoing, stream-of-consciousness basis during a flight.  Well friends, today I did it.  Or, I did it as much as I could.  I made these notes on my iPhone, and I'll be the first to admit that my hands were sometimes too shaky, or too busy holding my cocktail and playing Candy Crush, to note every thought that I had.  But based on those notes and on my memory, here's a bit of a play-by-play of what at least one person (read: me) with flight anxiety goes through on an average flight.

Seems fine, said no one.

First, let me say this.  I do know the statistics regarding air travel safety, and I do understand (as much as any non-science-oriented, non-aviator can) the physics of flight.  I'm a relatively intelligent person and I have devoted a serious amount of time to researching aviation.... OK, and also plane crashes and other aviation mishaps/disasters.  So, this morning, when I woke up to a dark and gloomy day in Atlanta and a forecast for afternoon storms, I knew my flight wasn't doomed.  And even though my husband really actually seriously for real offered to let us rent a car and drive the 600+ miles home so that I wouldn't have to take that flight, I knew - in theory - that our odds were better flying than spending all day driving, especially in the rain.  I know those things.  But those things didn't stop me from obsessively checking the radar all morning.  Those things didn't stop the cold sweat as we got to the airport.  Those things didn't stop me from wanting to make a beeline for the rental car counter when we got to the flight check-in kiosks.  But, we checked in, trudged through security, and arrived at our gate.

We had a long wait at the gate today, as we were quite early for our flight.  Nothing amazes me more at an airport than the genuine calm with which aircrew members sit around waiting for flights.  I get that it's their job and they literally do it every day, but it still amazes me.  Several flight attendants and pilots spent varying amounts of time waiting near us, and I couldn't stop watching as they played Candy Crush on their phones, made calls about running errands and mowing the grass once they got home, ate lunch, and joked with each other.  Because for me that same time is filled with a rising panic, a building sense of doom.  For me, a belief is taking hold somewhere deep down that even though I know all the things about aviation safety, etc., etc., this plane, my flight is not going to make it.  And that has escalated since I had a child.  People who do not have flight anxiety, let me tell you this: there is no worse feeling than believing you have purchased a ticket and potentially sent your happy, bubbly, excited toddler who somehow loves airplanes to her doom.  I've been off the plane today for four hours and thinking about that feeling still brings me to tears.  Without knowing what I know about aviation and that little tiny rational voice inside telling me that I'm a little bit (...maybe a lot) insane and that everything will be fine, I literally would not be able to put her on the plane.  But every time we board I am still almost physically choking on the guilt and anxiety that she had no choice but to get into this metal death trap - I'm sorry, I mean airplane.

So, we board the plane.  I have a superstitious ritual that I go through every time I physically walk onto an aircraft, and I'm too superstitious to reveal it here.  After all, I haven't died yet, so it clearly works.  Upon boarding the plane, I glance into the cockpit.  Those pilots look alert.  Relaxed.  Well-rested.  Not like people who want to die today.  I respond to the flight attendants' greetings and smile.  My toddler and I find our seats, where my husband is waiting and has already installed her car seat in her seat.  He buckles her in and takes over entertaining her, because from now until we land, it's all I can do to keep breathing.

Today we flew out of Atlanta.  And because it's Atlanta, and the weather was extra special today, we were probably 8ish planes back in line for takeoff, so we had a while to sit on the taxiway and runway, watching the rain pelt against the windows, staring at the ominous clouds, marveling at the fact that the planes in front of us continue to take off and not crash.  So here, in order, are the actual thoughts I recall during our flight of just over an hour.  Language not suitable for work or small children.

While sitting on the ground, I just think over and over that no one on this flight crew wants to die today.  These pilots don't want to die.  These flight attendants don't want to die.  Air traffic control doesn't want that on their hands.  They wouldn't operate this flight if conditions were that bad.  They don't want to die.  These pilots will be alert.  They'll be paying attention.  They'll do their very best.  Because they don't want to die today.  It's all I think.  We start accelerating down the runway.  The little raindrops are rushing across the windows so quickly now.

Yes, these are actually from my phone

I watch that show on The Weather Channel, "Why Planes Crash," religiously.  It's been both a blessing and a curse, because while I do now know a whole bunch of things that cause plane crashes, I also know a whole bunch of things that used to freak me out that don't cause plane crashes.  I know how many things generally have to simultaneously go wrong to bring a plane down.  But today, the weather.  Oohhhhhh the weather.  But "Why Planes Crash" taught me that the radar they have is so much better these days.  All the systems are better.  Everything is better.  Surely they know where the bad storms are.  They must know.  They have such good equipment.  Wasn't that a Delta flight that got caught in a downburst back in the day in Texas and slammed into the ground just short of the airport killing almost everyone on board?  This is a Delta flight... damn it, we should have just rented a car.

As soon as I feel the wheels leave the ground, I start counting to ninety.  I heard a passenger interviewed after US Airways flight 1549 (more commonly, the Miracle on the Hudson) say that she heard that most aviation disasters occur within the first 90 seconds of flight, so she always counted off 90 seconds after takeoff, and then she could breathe a little easier.  That day, she said, she was distracted and kept losing count.  She couldn't figure out why she kept losing count.  She never made it to ninety.  Mind you this is based on literally nothing other than this passenger interview (though I do know that takeoff and landing are the statistically most dangerous parts of flight), but now I do that.  It gives me something to do.  I mouth the words, almost whispering them out loud.  One, two, three, four - slowly counting.  My mouth is very dry from the anti-anxiety medication that I take before flight.  I think some about how dry my mouth is as I keep slowly counting with my eyes closed.  I probably look seriously insane.  I don't care.  I get to 90, open my eyes, and look around.  We're all still here.

The flight is a bit bumpy, as we're certainly trying to navigate over or around all these thunderstorms.  The flight attendant comes on and makes an announcement about how the flight is equipped with Delta's in-flight WiFi.  How the fuck can anyone want WiFi?!...I almost say out loud.  We're hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles an hour to our almost certain doom, and you want WiFi??

As I finally start to feel the maximum effect of the anti-anxiety medication, I think to myself that there is definitely a fine art to timing these medications.  I should have taken the second one about 15 minutes earlier than I did.  It is questionable whether I should drive after this flight.

More bumps.  "Light chop," my ass!  I'd hate to be on a flight where they said, "we've really hit some rough air here" based on what passes for "light chop." I wish I had some radar equipment like at my seat.  Or a very, very patient pilot sitting next to me who could literally narrate the entire flight, including all this "light chop."  My husband does not count.  Much as he insists he knows about aviation, he is not a pilot.  He is also usually asleep.  What the actual fuck is up with that?  Once I was on a flight - I believe operated by the short-lived Delta subsidiary Song - where the pilot actually did come over the intercom literally every time we hit any turbulence and explain what it was and why it was no cause for alarm.  It was probably annoying as hell to well over 95% of the people on board, but it was a dream come true for me.

Whenever I'm on a plane, I know exactly how many rows forward and back it is to all the nearest exits.  Now I'm counting how many rows it is until the drink cart reaches me.  It's 5, by the way.  Five more rows until the vodka arrives.  In case you were wondering, it's 2 rows forward and 3 or 8 rows back to the exits.  Now 4 until the drink cart.

There is so much Candy Crush being played on this plane.  On our last flight two days ago when I went to the restroom, one of the flight attendants was strapped into her seat in the ridiculously noisy rear of the aircraft just calmly playing Candy Crush.  Now I'm looking around and can see at least 3 other passengers playing.  And I'm playing.  This amuses me slightly for some reason.

We're seated pretty far back on this plane due to my strategic seat picking.  I once watched a Discovery Channel documentary where they actually crashed some retired commercial airliners with dummies on board to test crash survival odds and whatnot.  And they concluded that over the wings and the tail are the most structurally sound parts of the plane.  I hate sitting all the way in the back, so I always try to pick seats over/near the wings.  Unless First Class is an option.  Then all bets are off, because free drinks.  Anyway, by the time this drink cart gets to me, we'll probably be pretty close to landing.  Should I not get this cocktail I will have to drink really quickly?  No, I will need this cocktail for this landing.  I saw some storms on the radar around our destination too.

HOW ARE SO MANY PEOPLE ASLEEP RIGHT NOW??  God, it's like they don't think we're all going to die.

Ah, sweet vodka.  And I even had a coupon for a free drink on Delta.  Hello, free Bloody Mary.  It's about time.

These adorable, impeccably dressed flight attendants and I are going to be the only geniuses in skirts trying to climb over all the debris to get off this plane if it goes down.  But at least I wore sensible shoes.  Heels, but chunky ones.  Not pointy ones.  Never pointy ones.  I will not be the jerk who punctures that inflatable slide and screws all the people behind me.  Of course those poor flight attendants will have to get off last.  They are heroes, those flight attendants.  Why don't more people realize that?

I'm really having quite a bit of luck with Candy Crush on this flight.  I've had infinite lives the whole time.  So that's something.  At least I always have a distraction when my hands are steady enough to play.

I go over my emergency plan in my head.  The paths to the exits.  The flotation devices.  How to get to my daughter and get her out of her car seat.  The Bloody Mary has made me just cocky enough to think, if this plane goes down and I'm still alive, by God I'm getting off this plane!

I intensely dislike this "we should have you on the ground within 20 minutes" announcement they like to make.  Have you on the ground?  I have watched a LOT of plane crash shows, and they all ended up on the ground.

Look out the window.  Oh my God, the ground is still so far away.  This flight is never going to end.

Downbursts.  Bird strikes.  Who inspects these planes anyway?  When did they last inspect it?  Do I really trust some random airplane-inspector-person to make sure that there's not some bolt loose, some microscopic crack somewhere.  I am positive I saw an episode of "Why Planes Crash" where some microscopic crack in something caused something to let go and it hit something else and caused the plane to lose ALL of its hydraulics.  Those may not be the technical terms, but that happened.  Why must we trust SO many people when we fly?  I put my life in the hands of the people who built the plane.  The people who designed it.  The people who inspect it.  The people who perform its maintenance.  The people who fly it.  I don't even trust most people I actually know with my life.  This seems patently ridiculous.

I really have to pee after drinking that cocktail.  If this plane crashes and I live, I will definitely pee myself before rescue workers can reach me.  That will be embarrassing.  Surely that's happened before though.  Seems not improbable.

Jesus, could we level this plane off a bit here?  The ground is getting awfully close now.  For someone who has never flown - not even in a simulator or a video game, mind you - I am an awfully strong critic of aviation skills as the ground rapidly approaches.  Seriously though, why are we rocking back and forth so much?!

The ground!  We landed!  We're slowing down in time!  This is an absolute miracle!  Also, I totally knew we were going to be fine the whole time.

My Favorite Things (So Far) About Raising a Military Kid

OK, so, I missed the Month of the Military Child by 2 days with this post - it was April.  It has also been a terribly long time since I have written at all!  Life - and, namely, my third bar exam - got in the way (hopefully more to come about that later).  But, lately I've been feeling the urge to write again, and I've also been thinking a LOT about what it means to raise a military kid (even though I've only been doing it for a very short time).

It's easy to focus on the challenges of raising a military kid - how much the active duty parent will miss, how many changes the child will have to endure, and how on earth to prepare a young child for all of that. This has been weighing very heavy on my mind lately, as we prepare for our first PCS move since my daughter was born. This will mean taking her away from the only home she's ever known and, more importantly, from an incredible group of friends that have surrounded her since she was 3 months old and to whom she has become very attached. This will also mean much more time away from her daddy, which doesn't go well some days even when he's just at work and coming home by 5:00! With all of this swirling in my mind - along with conflicting thoughts about going back to work, which I have blogged about previously - I decided to save my sanity by writing about my favorite things about raising my military kid.

Whenever I think about this topic, my mind always goes back to one incident. When my daughter was very young - from the ages of about 3 months to about 8 months - we attended a weekly "new moms group". After the group meeting, many of the moms and babies would go out to lunch together, and we always went to this great deli that was relatively near several places where military personnel in the area work. So, it was not a rare occurrence for military members to be there in uniform having lunch. One day when my daughter was probably about 6 months old, she spotted just such a military member wearing the same uniform that my husband wears to work most days. She only saw the man from across the room and became very upset when we didn't go over to see this person, as she clearly thought it was her daddy (it wasn't). There were similar occurrences at the military hospital where she receives her primary care, and as she learned to speak she would often identify various people in uniform as "da da!" as we walked down the halls.

These occurrences are rare now, as she can spot daddy coming from a mile away, but she is still comforted by the uniform. For instance, she's not a fan of doctors (I don't think many toddlers are!), but I can usually calm her down before an appointment by talking to her about how her pediatrician will be wearing a uniform just like daddy's. That usually brings a big smile, rather than tears. And I love that. To me, the comfort that uniforms brings her - and even that very early occurrence where she spotted it from across the room - always reminds me that even when her father is away, she is going to spend her childhood wrapped in the love and support of our Navy family. And I love that.

There is a popular song out right now called "One Call Away" by Charlie Puth. It is, of course, a love song of sorts, but I am always going to stand by my position that it missed a good chance to be about military spouses! From the moment I first heard it, it struck a chord in my heart and made me think about several dear military spouse friends who, from across the country or the globe, have been there for me through deployments, moves, pregnancy, parenting, and everything in between - good days and bad.  No matter where you go / You know you're not alone / I'm only one call away / I'll be there to save the day / Superman got nothing on me / I'm only one call away. Seriously, guys. It's about the milspouse community in my book. And my daughter is going to be surrounded and supported by those same people. And by their children, who are amazing military kids going through the same challenges and triumphs that my little one will.  And I love that.

The people are the greatest thing about this military lifestyle by far, I think. The goodbyes - both to friends and to our service member - are the hardest.  The waiting, a close second.  But the people are amazing. The people who have come into our lives because of this military life we lead are people I wouldn't trade for anything on earth. And so, because she is a military kid, they are also people in my daughter's life. And I love that.

Our little girl has a lot of challenges ahead of her, and it breaks my heart daily to think about them. I can be a sobbing heap on the floor in about 10 seconds flat thinking about having to say goodbye for our first deployment with her. As the days and the weeks and the months tick by, it will be my job to make her believe and understand that her father is coming back just as soon as he can.  It will be hard.  It hurts my heart.  She will miss her friends here terribly when we move, and I pray constantly that she will find many wonderful ones in our next "hometown." The moves, the absences, and the changes will be disruptive to her and difficult for our family.

But she has so much to look forward to and so much to be proud of.  I hope that along with the nervousness and anxiety we all feel before a move, she will also feel that little bit of excitement and optimism I always feel.  I hope that when she cries like most of us do when her father leaves, that some of those tears are tears of sheer pride and determination like mine are. I hope that when the national anthem plays, even if it's just on TV or at a sporting event, her body becomes still, her mind quiet, and her eyes misty like mine.  I came into the military community as an adult, and it took some adjusting to feel a part of it. But she gets to grow up in it - embraced by it and enveloped in it.  And I hope she views it that way - she gets to, not she has to. And I hope that at the end of the day she loves it.