Travel Anxiety

I have never thought of myself as an anxious person. I have begun to rethink that. Aside from the test anxiety, I have discovered that I have travel anxiety. No, I don't freak out about perishing in a firey crash or worry about heights in an airplane. I get anxious about being on time to the airport and about possibly missing my flight.

Unlike the test anxiety, I do not remedy my anticipatory travel anxiety with food. In fact, that particular brand of anxiety causes me to lose my appetite and my autonomic system going such that I need a bathroom handy (TMI, too bad for you fools reading this blog).

I also become compulsively prepared when it comes to travel. I like to be all packed and ready to go the night before, and then just add in toiletries the day of travel. I prefer to fly in the morning, so that I get it out of the way first thing and can relax again once I have reached my destination. I was unable to do this on my way home from Chicago on Sunday because I had to go to a class all darn day. Ack!! My flight was at 5:30, and I began compulsively preparing at noon. The funny part is that I didn't really recognize it as compulsive until my lovely new friend, Michael, pointed it out. It's bad to have other shrinks as friends. Or good. Whatever.

Sunday was terrible. I swear I went to the bathroom like 8 times (again, TMI, too bad for you). And, as an aside, this is another reason I should have lost AT LEAST 2 pounds in the past two weeks! I evacuated the channels thoroughly on Sunday and then have been eating SUPER healthy since then!! That should be 2 pounds! Back to Sunday... I left my bag at the hotel because the shuttle driver who loves me told me to do this so he could get my bag and come to pick me up at the classroom. He grabbed the wrong bag! Ack! So we had to go back to the hotel, but no big deal because we were leaving a bit early because of my neurotic ways. We went back and he got my bag, but was taking a while. I went in to check that he had my bag, which he did, but he was taking a while because there was a gaggle of other people with a luggage cart full of stuff wanting to get to the airport! "AAAAAHHHH! How long is it going to take to load up all of that stuff?! Where do we need to drop these people and is this going to make me late?!" These are quotes from my inner dialogue as I sat in the van with Michael giggling at my anxious state and being so kind as to video the moment. We finally got all the people where they needed to go - many at my concourse. That kind of freaked me out as well because they were all standing there being stupid and not grabbing their bag which impeded my ability to grab mine. I got the luggage and went inside to see the HUGE line at security. More anxious waiting for me with no possibility of a bathroom break. Then I had to haul ass (not really, but my anxiety made me think so) down to my gate, which ended up being in the basement at airport where I finally could relax and wait for my plane.

This, apparently, is genetic. I know this because I explained all of my anxiety to my mother and she said she is exactly the same way when it comes to air travel. She cannot relax until she is at the airport, at her gate and early. She, too, compulsively prepares and it would drive her bonkers to have something interrupt the planned schedule. So there. As with all things psychological for all people, I'll just blame my mother.