When I fly, it’s a production. I am not kidding when I say this; I imagine it is the equivalent of an OCD ritual that must be played out exactly each and every time. Let’s just say it involves a lot of alcohol and creepy leering at the flight crew as they board the plane prior to take off. 

I would like to say that I don’t know where this fear and compulsion come from, but that would be a lie. My mother was terribly afraid of flying, and like most other things that scared her, she did her very best to make sure the fear was passed down to me. 

Here is the thing. When I fly, that is when I truly feel the most alive. There is just something so beautiful about being absolutely terrified but powering through and facing it. When I step off of an airplane, somewhere in my brain a happy dance is happening and I want to run through the airport swinging from light posts and clicking my heels. 

I love that feeling. Bravery. It makes me feel powerful in my life, and to be honest, sometimes I am actually grateful that my mother made me so fearful of so many things. It gives me the opportunity to feel brave and powerful on a level a lot of people may never experience. Sure, most of the time the feeling isn’t as intense as after a trip in the sky, but it still feels courageous. 

The most gorgeous thing I ever did for myself was to decide that I didn’t want to live a stunted life out of fear. I trained myself to see my fear not as an obstacle, but as a tool to push myself to live a life that I love. I like to think it’s my superpower. 

Something to think about…