Upright and Locked Position

When I was little, my brother and I went to visit our grandmother in Chicago. Man, was I excited for this trip! The mere idea of it was thrilling to me. I was going to travel to a big city and have an adventure without my parents. Aware that not many kids received such an opportunity, I knew just how special this was, and I'll be damned if I wasn't ready for it.

That is, until I had to say goodbye to my parents at the airport. I remember a knot forming in my chest as I hugged my mom and dad, but I tried to stay cool. My brother and I walked slowly down that strange metal corridor to board our plane, and the knot sent these obnoxious lumps into my throat. I closed my eyes and slowed my breathing as we entered the cabin. It wasn't until after we reached our seats, and I was staring out the window, that I recognized what was happening. My nose began to run, and I understood that I was one seat-belt demonstration away from a meltdown.

Completely confused by this realization, I tried to collect myself. Mentally, I went over the rational evidence to contradict my emotional state. I told myself there wasn't anything to cry about. I knew this was coming. I wanted to go on this trip.  I had even been excited for it.

When the plane began taxiing the runway, all my effort to remain calm flew out the window. My tears began to fall as I thought to myself, What if I can't do this? What if I'm not ready? What if something happens to us?

As the plane took off, I had a distinct change of heart. I didn't want to go on this trip anymore. I wanted the pilot to turn around. I wanted that plane to land. And, more than anything else, I wanted to run into my mom's arms and stay there forever. I didn't want to take this trip on my own. It was a stupid idea, and I didn't want to have this adventure anymore.

I wish I could say this was a one-time only, childish response, but I can't do that without lying. I have a similar emotional response every time a big decisions comes to fruition. Whenever I'm about to embark on a new adventure, I come back to this same feeling. I start by pretending to be brave. Then, a chest-knot turns to a throat-lump, and, with a runny nose, I begin to doubt my preparedness. Part of me toys with the idea of changing my mind at the last minute. I consider the possibility of turning around and running for the more familiar (yes, sometimes that still includes my mom). Then, I suck it up and face the facts.

Maybe it's immature, but I think I had it all figured out early on. Even as a little girl, I knew that my tickets had been purchased, my bags were packed, and once that plane was in the air, I was having this adventure whether I wanted it or not.