So I'm at it again; like a dog with a bone.
Once a fortnight I attend cognitive behavioural therapy (CBT) with a phobia specialist, to discuss and tackle the fear of flying. Insightful and interesting, but boy is it tough. All manner of thoughts and emotions have been stirred over the last two months. From reliving recent flying experiences to challenging myself to do things I know I won't like or will be scared, we're working on challenging (what seem to be long embedded) negative attitudes that persist with regards to flying. I'll not kid, sometimes I really do think about leaving it be and making my peace with never flying. It may yet come to that, but I'll not go down (bad pun unintended) without another go.
One thing that is interesting: I don't have to fly. That may seem a pretty obvious statement to make, but one of the roots of my aversion is an apparent paradox that both suggests that 'I have to get on this plane' and 'I really don't want to get on this plane'. The result is usually a pretty ugly meltdown on boarding (see: Dublin, Jan '15). Understanding this is proving tricky, chiefly because I do want to get over it, to fly easily, but the feelings that go with it don't want to budge and are difficult to live with.
Feelings. And thoughts. That's what it's all about. How many people out there have told me that flying is the safest way to travel? And that once you're up is easy. I could name a few. Such rational challenges fall on deaf ears with a fearful flyer and rightly so. Such statistics are predicated on the notion that a fear of flying is an idea capable of being rationalised and challenged. It's not. The fear of flying is an emotion. A feeling, fueled by irrational thoughts and a gross misperception of risk. One thing that I have found in recent weeks is how hard it is to challenge the negative thoughts with positive, or even mere realistic, statements. This is a key part of CBT, but one that is very difficult, especially since the fear is so entrenched. I see a plane and I see the miles of thin air beneath it, and thus the amazing height. How can anything that high be safe? What if something happens? I have things to challenge these, but it is proving difficult.
The best one of all .... what if I get up there and can't cope? It was Franklin D. Roosevelt who said that "the biggest thing we have to fear is fear itself". If you look hard enough, at the root of every fear is a fear that you won't cope, that you can't handle it. This is no exception. I can't imagine going through the mental battle in such extreme circumstances. I can't imagine being "fine" on a plane for any length of time (however short). Of course, part of the therapy has been both to provide me with the tools to calm myself, distract my attention and also to have the confidence to know that I have the tools to cope in such circumstances.
A difficult part of the course has been putting things into practice, as it were, and exploring how I cope in situations I don't like. In a recent session, I mentioned my occasional aversion to lifts. Ordinarily I'm fine, but if I'm aware how high I'm going I'm less so. It's like flying on a smaller scale. At my place of work one of the buildings has a lift with a glass wall, looking out onto an open atrium that goes up from the LG floor to the 6th. My therapist challenged me to take it all the way to the top. As with flying, I didn't have to enjoy being there, just realise that I could do it and could eventually cope. And by cope, I mean, get my anxiety levels to manageable levels. I've taken the lift. I've done it a few times and I'm seeing the anxiety levels creep downwards gradually. But it's hard. And it's hard to remember all the tools you're supposed to be using when you're gripped with paralytic fear. (One attempt to distract in the lift left me ascending the 6 floors air conducting to the Bach that was playing on my iPod).
My therapist has also challenged me to go on the London Eye (yeah, right); the Shard (kidding?). Maybe even a light aircraft. What is baffling is that people can do these things - and most notably - can get on planes for hours on end with no problems or issues at all. Some of us, I guess, have our crosses to bear. How frustrating.
I don't have to fly; I never have to fly again.
If I do, I don't have to like it or enjoy it. Just tolerate it.
But I want to see the world. And if I choose to fly, I'm slowly getting the tools to cope.
I hope.
