I am sitting by the warm fire that my husband built, nursing my travel anxiety.
Maybe it seems odd for someone who travels as much as I do to have travel anxiety. After all, how many trips have I taken where all went well on the trip and at home? Well, dang near all of them. Still, each time, I feel this anxiety rising. Sometimes it starts a week or so before the trip. This seems to be the case when we are going someplace completely unfamiliar. Usually, it starts only a few days before we leave. It feels like a general unease in my insides, something that won’t let me rest and keeps propelling me to action: is the refrigerator cleaned out? Chicken coop cleaned? Toiletries packed? Bills paid? House tidied up for our house sitter? Laundry done? Do we need to go to the ATM one more time? Have I told the neighbors when to put out our garbage? Did I throw out the milk or will it be festering in there when we get back? And don’t even talk to me about sleeping the night before a trip!
The only reason I can sit still right now is that I am writing this, writing out my anxiety. The minute I finish, I will be up and moving, doing, doing, doing.
I know people who avoid travel because they feel this sense of anxiety and worry. I feel it too. But the minute our plane is in the air, I know I’ve done what I can do and that the trip is NOW. Well, also the fear of crashing takes over at that point. But after that, really, all the anxiety is gone and just the excitement and adventure remain.
So if you are nervous about travel, here is my advice: suck it up, feel the bad feelings, take care of things in a dervish blur. And then pick up your bag, lock the door, and go.
Go now. Go often. Life is short.