I’ve been having panic attacks a lot lately. I’ve no doubt that the new job-old job thing has something to do with it. At least I hope it does, because I’ve no other reason for being this freaky. All the same, it’s been driving me nuts.
Just as an example, I’ve booked a holiday in between jobs. Eight days of glorious sunshine, pristine white beach and cocktails… of course there’ll be cocktails. 🙂
My therapist is, of course, delighted that I’ve booked a holiday. One of the very many things she’s taught me is that we deserve holidays; all of us. Another is that a holiday doesn’t have to be a big drama, or a month-long adventure. Short and sweet is just as good, if not sometimes better. Just book something and go – the rest will take care of itself.
Trouble is, I hate flying. I mean, I REALLY HATE FLYING. I tried to do the “book and go” thing – with the cheapest flights I could find. But when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it. When my travel agent told me what row I’d have to sit in on the plane, I freaked. Heart pounding, hyperventilating, palm sweating freaked. Flashes of long queues, squishy seats, the incessant noise, the throngs of people …
I couldn’t do it. This, people, is my worst nightmare.
So, I booked the more expensive seats to give me more space and less squish. So that I won’t have to climb over sixty people to get to the toilet. So that I’ll be close to the exit. Not that I’m all that worried about something bad happening (though I hate turbulence). I just can’t stand that squish.
I learnt a few years ago that these seats – where you pay extra to choose where you sit; where you get to sit closer to the front; where you don’t have to walk half a mile to the toilet; where you have a bit more space; and where you can’t see the hoards behind you as much – these are the seats I need to sit in.
It was a choice, I guess, between unmanageable panic for the next ten days before I even get on that interminable flight … or something slightly more relaxed, with only mild panic playing in the background. Not exactly a relaxing lead up to a holiday, because I still HATE FLYING, but more manageable.
Trouble is, that costs more. So now I feel guilty and stupid. Stupid to panic over such a ridiculous thing. Guilty because it’s costing more, and I wanted to save that money.