Anyone who knows me knows that I have a holy mother of G-d fear of flying. In the past, it has dictated how I travel (including spending 36 hours on a train or 24 hours on a bus) and where I traveled. It is with this in mind that it may come to a shock to most of you that this afternoon I plan on climbing in the back of a prop plane on my good friend Will’s second flying lesson.
I haven’t had much of a choice with the fears I deal with – and let’s face it; the past year has been pretty scary.
Even before I was diagnosed, transitioning from college student to adult is scary. Unemployment and job hunting, my first big relationship failure, moving cross country, first job, and trying to make sense of a social life once most of your friends move away combined makes for a ridiculously tough transition. Once things finally felt back on track, I got sick.
One of the things I pride myself on is the way I handle fear. For the most part, I am able to power through. When presented with the opportunity to CHOOSE to face a fear, I feel that I can’t turn it down and still feel OK with myself.