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Note: Y’all asked for it. Y’all got it. I’m not beating around the bush this time. This is really what Cystic Fibrosis puts me through on a regular basis. And, if this writing turns out to read like a rant and/or an angry letter, then I met my goal for this piece. Just let me know if you think I went too far so I don't get sued.
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The day before I left for Florida, I admitted to my therapist, and even more so to myself, that I am very afraid of flying. I'm not sure why I am or when I started forming this fear, especially since when I was a little girl, flying was my favorite part of every trip. All I know is that now flying gives me a lot of anxiety, and no matter what I do, the fear only gets worse. No amount of plane science, common sense, statistics, sleeping pills, anti-anxiety pills, or therapy will probably cure this fear of mine, which makes it that much worse.
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I often joke about having an unlimited number of lives, especially with my mom, who seems to understand the most. While my mom will never truly understand my struggles, at least she’s always been there for me. She’s never left my side, figuratively and literally. Sometimes, I get annoyed by her constant presence, especially when I just want some time to myself, and have fought with her over it. But, I could never say I’ve ever been forgotten or neglected.
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Note: I decided to try a different approach to this topic. I saved the old version of this in a document so it isn't lost, but I figured there was a better way to approach this topic than the way I tried before.
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