The last few months have thrown my progress in handling my anxiety down a flight of stairs. I’m not sure what the trigger was, perhaps the breakdown of a long term relationship, or increased pressure at work, or something else entirely. But I write this after crying in the middle of Terminal 4 at Heathrow, on my way to Rome for a series of meetings for work. As I write this, I have spent the last 2 hours panicking that I haven’t checked in correctly, despite 1) having printed out my boarding pass, and 2) gotten through security!
I have managed to convince myself that I have done this all incorrectly, and will not be allowed onto my flight. I have in the last 2 hours – rang the airline to check (they say it is all fine!), asked the information people at the airport (they say it is all fine), found the airline information desk (they say it is all fine, and that I have picked a nice seat!) – and yet, here I am, sat waiting for the gate to be announced, panicking that they are all wrong, and I will not be allowed onto the flight. I have been panicking to the point that I haven’t been able to stop myself from crying, my heart feels like it may stop at any moment, and I have the overwhelming urge to vomit. I mean – I have now become *THAT* person at the airport!
I am not normally an anxious flier. I have flown countless times, and on my own a number of time, with no problems what-so-ever. But today has been different. I’m not anxious about flying – I’m anxious about EVERYTHING, and this had been a catalyst. I have noticed a huge spike in my feeling of anxiety in the last 3 months. Sleeping is difficult, work is difficult – everything is difficult. Writing helps. Anxiety is a difficult thing to live with. But this too shall pass.