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.
Thursday, 21 April 2016
Thursday, 12 February 2015
The fear of flying and continued frustration
In recent weeks I have been troubled somewhat by this fear of flying. In some respects, recent efforts to tackle and overcome the fear have borne fruit and have shown improvement; in others, I think it hasn't helped at all. Indeed, sometimes I notice that things are (in some aspects) worse than before. This leaves me feeling rather frustrated.
A few weeks back, we flew to Dublin. A mere 300 miles away; we spent more time at the airport than in the air. For the flight out, though putting the 'brave face on' when we first got to the airport, this soon cracked (and by cracked, I mean shattered completely). In truth, I don't recall ever being so bad upon boarding an aeroplane - led to the gate and onto the plane in a state of absolute hysteria, I could feel my feet actually dragging and holding me back. Indeed, I got out of the queue to board about 3 or 4 times, insisting that I wanted to go home. Once aboard, I did my usual calming and relaxing routine. It worked inasmuch as it does, I got to a state of relative relaxation, pretended to read my book as normal and drank the free drinks that the dear people of Aer Lingus brought my way.
The return experience was somewhat better. I promised myself beforehand that I would hold it together at the airport (in chief, because I knew that Theresa did not deserve to go through the previous performance again). And generally, thanks to LOTS of deep breathing, I kept it together (the knees weakened as we descended the escalator by the gates and the planes came into view), something that is infinitely easier when you know you'll be back on the ground in an hour. The flight itself was bumpy in places, and not so relaxed; but it got there.
Over the past 12 months, I have flown 7 times (though that equates to about 8 hours in the air), been on a fear of flying course, and a number of sessions of hypnotherapy. I'd like to think that each has helped in their own way. I used to get nervous going through security; now it's just another part of an increasingly familiar process. I'm generally more relaxed on board than I have been before. And I understand (I think) what it is that makes me fearful. What is not getting easier (and is perhaps getting worse) is the pre-flight experience and it is this that is central to my fear.
I am an anxious person. I've had problems with anxiety in the past and am a 'pro' at 'what if' worries. In some way, I think this anxiety is a part of my fear of flying, particularly anticipatory anxiety (this is where you fear a particular event or consequence arising and is a typical trait of a 'what if' worrier). The problem with anticipatory anxiety and flying, though, is that it effectively becomes tautologous: the worry is: 'what if I have to get on a plane (an environment I dislike and that makes me panic) and sit in a tin can, 6 miles in the air'; and the consequence is ... well, just that. The result is a snowball of worry and panic that builds and builds.
At the heart of my fear is a number of things: I fear and cannot cope with the thought of being 'suspended' 6 miles up in the air, with all that space underneath the plane; I don't like being trapped and not being able to get off; I don't like the height; and combine that with someone who's a pro at fearing the unknown, you have someone who catastrophizes massively - plays out terrifying scenarios and possibilities on the basis of the above. (In my mind, there's a lot that can happen to a plane at 30,000ft and 'resting smoothly on the air' is only one of them).
At this point, lots of people usually pull out the statistics, thinking they're helping and putting me at ease. Don't bother. Calming a fearful flyer by telling them they're more likely to perish in the car en route to the airport is a bit like calming an arachnophobe by telling them that spiders are more afraid of you than you are of them.
The anxiety often starts weeks before a flight and builds and builds, climaxing on boarding. The more you worry, the worse the worry gets (especially when it's something you have to face); and your mind seems to think that constantly thinking and mentally panicking about an event is the way to deal with it. I need to get to a point where I can control and even break the patterns of constant thinking and worry that precede a flight and make it such an ordeal. Efforts over the last year have helped me to understand the anxiety, to confront and acknowledge the various thoughts. But stopping the worrying and the negative thinking seems to be extremely hard in practice. Indeed, going through the various measures designed to ease the fear have put pressure on me to 'be better'. Pressure only makes it worse.
In short, I'm frustrated. I feel I'm almost at a point where I cannot do any more - it feels like it's out of my hands. I posted on Facebook (in a moment of irrationality) at the airport, en route to Dublin that I was 'Never Flying Again'. This is the first time in the last year I've even thought that. The courage has worn a bit thin recently and I did wonder (re: the Dublin trip) how many more times I can really put myself through the process.
I want to. I want, so badly, to be 'OK' with flying (not even a good flyer - just not paralyzed with fear). I want to see New York City; I want to go with Theresa to 'Disney'; I want to be able to go on carefree (not panic stricken) weekend breaks to Europe; I want to be able to show my kids the world (when they come along ...). I'm frustrated because I want to be OK, but I don't feel that I can make that choice. I'm not a wimp (I hope), I'm not a wuss; but I do feel that I've almost done as much as I can.
I'm not giving up, yet (I think). I understand my fear and want to beat it. Long haul flights are definitely a thing for the distant future; that's for sure. But if I can make the short flights easier then the pieces will gradually fall into place. It's just frustrating and demoralizing that I've not yet found a way.
Too bad I get sea sick.
A few weeks back, we flew to Dublin. A mere 300 miles away; we spent more time at the airport than in the air. For the flight out, though putting the 'brave face on' when we first got to the airport, this soon cracked (and by cracked, I mean shattered completely). In truth, I don't recall ever being so bad upon boarding an aeroplane - led to the gate and onto the plane in a state of absolute hysteria, I could feel my feet actually dragging and holding me back. Indeed, I got out of the queue to board about 3 or 4 times, insisting that I wanted to go home. Once aboard, I did my usual calming and relaxing routine. It worked inasmuch as it does, I got to a state of relative relaxation, pretended to read my book as normal and drank the free drinks that the dear people of Aer Lingus brought my way.
The return experience was somewhat better. I promised myself beforehand that I would hold it together at the airport (in chief, because I knew that Theresa did not deserve to go through the previous performance again). And generally, thanks to LOTS of deep breathing, I kept it together (the knees weakened as we descended the escalator by the gates and the planes came into view), something that is infinitely easier when you know you'll be back on the ground in an hour. The flight itself was bumpy in places, and not so relaxed; but it got there.
Over the past 12 months, I have flown 7 times (though that equates to about 8 hours in the air), been on a fear of flying course, and a number of sessions of hypnotherapy. I'd like to think that each has helped in their own way. I used to get nervous going through security; now it's just another part of an increasingly familiar process. I'm generally more relaxed on board than I have been before. And I understand (I think) what it is that makes me fearful. What is not getting easier (and is perhaps getting worse) is the pre-flight experience and it is this that is central to my fear.
I am an anxious person. I've had problems with anxiety in the past and am a 'pro' at 'what if' worries. In some way, I think this anxiety is a part of my fear of flying, particularly anticipatory anxiety (this is where you fear a particular event or consequence arising and is a typical trait of a 'what if' worrier). The problem with anticipatory anxiety and flying, though, is that it effectively becomes tautologous: the worry is: 'what if I have to get on a plane (an environment I dislike and that makes me panic) and sit in a tin can, 6 miles in the air'; and the consequence is ... well, just that. The result is a snowball of worry and panic that builds and builds.
At the heart of my fear is a number of things: I fear and cannot cope with the thought of being 'suspended' 6 miles up in the air, with all that space underneath the plane; I don't like being trapped and not being able to get off; I don't like the height; and combine that with someone who's a pro at fearing the unknown, you have someone who catastrophizes massively - plays out terrifying scenarios and possibilities on the basis of the above. (In my mind, there's a lot that can happen to a plane at 30,000ft and 'resting smoothly on the air' is only one of them).
At this point, lots of people usually pull out the statistics, thinking they're helping and putting me at ease. Don't bother. Calming a fearful flyer by telling them they're more likely to perish in the car en route to the airport is a bit like calming an arachnophobe by telling them that spiders are more afraid of you than you are of them.
The anxiety often starts weeks before a flight and builds and builds, climaxing on boarding. The more you worry, the worse the worry gets (especially when it's something you have to face); and your mind seems to think that constantly thinking and mentally panicking about an event is the way to deal with it. I need to get to a point where I can control and even break the patterns of constant thinking and worry that precede a flight and make it such an ordeal. Efforts over the last year have helped me to understand the anxiety, to confront and acknowledge the various thoughts. But stopping the worrying and the negative thinking seems to be extremely hard in practice. Indeed, going through the various measures designed to ease the fear have put pressure on me to 'be better'. Pressure only makes it worse.
In short, I'm frustrated. I feel I'm almost at a point where I cannot do any more - it feels like it's out of my hands. I posted on Facebook (in a moment of irrationality) at the airport, en route to Dublin that I was 'Never Flying Again'. This is the first time in the last year I've even thought that. The courage has worn a bit thin recently and I did wonder (re: the Dublin trip) how many more times I can really put myself through the process.
I want to. I want, so badly, to be 'OK' with flying (not even a good flyer - just not paralyzed with fear). I want to see New York City; I want to go with Theresa to 'Disney'; I want to be able to go on carefree (not panic stricken) weekend breaks to Europe; I want to be able to show my kids the world (when they come along ...). I'm frustrated because I want to be OK, but I don't feel that I can make that choice. I'm not a wimp (I hope), I'm not a wuss; but I do feel that I've almost done as much as I can.
I'm not giving up, yet (I think). I understand my fear and want to beat it. Long haul flights are definitely a thing for the distant future; that's for sure. But if I can make the short flights easier then the pieces will gradually fall into place. It's just frustrating and demoralizing that I've not yet found a way.
Too bad I get sea sick.
Friday, 9 January 2015
Hypnotherapy and the fear of flying
I'll come straight out with it - the notion of hypnosis and hypnotherapy used to render me sceptical. I thought it was, to be frank, a load of rubbish. I thought I knew what it was and I was quite comfortable with the view that the hypnotiser didn't REALLY have control over the hypnotee's subconscious and any thoughts or actions stemming from that alleged control.
I have, however, over the last 3 months, enjoyed a few sessions of hypnotherapy to tackle this fear of flying.
As the past year has ticked by, I have become increasingly aware of the precise nature of my fear and its various aspects. The Virgin Atlantic Flying without Fear course helped me tackle more conscious concerns with the concept and helped me learn how to relax on board a flight, putting my mind at ease as regards how the plane works. The experience surrounding my excursion to Glasgow in September, however, made me realise that there was an inherent, subconscious anxiety at the heart of the fear. It was, to be exact, the thought of being at 35,000ft, in a tin can, that scared me; the thought of 6 miles of 'thin air' being seemingly responsible for my well being rendered me terrified. Hypnotherapy was recommended; so keen and determined (as I was in 2014) to tackle the fear, I gave it a go.
Hypnotherapy is not as initially (and mistakenly) believed and I will put my hand up now to revoke the previously formed view. TV 'magicians' are perhaps partly responsible for the common misunderstanding that gives rise to the view set out above; it is not about a hypnotiser 'taking control' of one's thoughts and actions. I learned pretty quickly that hypnotherapy is a state of (deep?) relaxation, where the mind is cleared of all the busy day-to-day goings on, and where it can be engaged - on a subconscious level - with another level of communication.
The first couple of sessions were used to learn about the fear, to explore where it came from and to confront some of the specific aspects of flying that have scared me, changing my perception of them. Apparently, my fear of flying stems from the fear of heights with which I grew up - images of my five year-old self on a cliff top, afraid of 'the drop' were conjured in my mind; and it seems that going through security and boarding an aircraft are the most fearsome (points of no return?).
It is the last session, however, that - I feel, cracked the nut. This came in two parts:
I've often said that, with my fear of flying, I feel a battle between my conscious, rationale self (that understands the statistics, wants to live a little, and wants to enjoy flying), and my subconscious, fearful self that has given rise to the fear. Well, last night, those two aspects were confronted and their differences mediated. I'm not going to go into detail, partly because you'll probably think me crazy, however, the protective part of my brain has perhaps been trying a little too hard to look after me, giving rise to anxiety and, in this case, fear. Through hypnotherapy, I was invited and able to understand and accept the need to 'let go' a bit, face up to the fact that life is full of uncertainties and 'unknowns', that I need to 'let go' of being over-protective and realise that I'm quite capable of looking after myself, without irrational anxieties seeking to do that for me. Indeed, take an anxious mind out of the equation, and you have more rational, sensible mental faculties, capable of being careful.
Quite simply, I should trust myself (and others where relevant and necessary) - thus letting go of the uncertainties and letting things just happen as they should; and in return, I should not be over-protective and press the panic button.
The second part of the session discussed how I might practice this - simply, through relaxation, breathing, positive thinking, trusting myself (and others where relevant), and 'being present' (i.e. not getting caught up in one's own thoughts and worries, away from the calmness of the present moment). Practicing this will reduce the anxiety and rationalise calmly any worries, waiting to be dispelled and dismissed. I don't have to be the perfect flyer, I just want to be a calm one.
I'm sure reading this has firmed in your mind the view that I have gone completely crazy (what is he on about?!), however, I do feel that progress has been made - like never before. I feel, finally, that we've unpacked the fear of flying, got right to the heart, and confronted the imbalance on which it rested (note the past tense ;-)). I am perhaps slightly unsure of whether it's worked, I keep trying to reassure myself that it has and will work when the time comes, and that I need to practice the right frame of mind. But I do feel different - I just looked out of my office window at a plane descending on its approach to Heathrow. I understood and believed that being on a plane (such as that one) was completely and utterly safe, in the hands of trained experts. Hell, I even wanted for a moment to be on that plane, admiring the views of London from the skies above. Last night, shortly after returning from the session, I looked in the mirror and, for some reason, beamed and clenched my fist in a gesture of victory. Nailed it.
A fortnight today we fly to Dublin for the weekend. The thing I'm worrying about the most is how many jumpers to take.
Hypnotherapy is not as initially (and mistakenly) believed and I will put my hand up now to revoke the previously formed view. TV 'magicians' are perhaps partly responsible for the common misunderstanding that gives rise to the view set out above; it is not about a hypnotiser 'taking control' of one's thoughts and actions. I learned pretty quickly that hypnotherapy is a state of (deep?) relaxation, where the mind is cleared of all the busy day-to-day goings on, and where it can be engaged - on a subconscious level - with another level of communication.
The first couple of sessions were used to learn about the fear, to explore where it came from and to confront some of the specific aspects of flying that have scared me, changing my perception of them. Apparently, my fear of flying stems from the fear of heights with which I grew up - images of my five year-old self on a cliff top, afraid of 'the drop' were conjured in my mind; and it seems that going through security and boarding an aircraft are the most fearsome (points of no return?).
It is the last session, however, that - I feel, cracked the nut. This came in two parts:
I've often said that, with my fear of flying, I feel a battle between my conscious, rationale self (that understands the statistics, wants to live a little, and wants to enjoy flying), and my subconscious, fearful self that has given rise to the fear. Well, last night, those two aspects were confronted and their differences mediated. I'm not going to go into detail, partly because you'll probably think me crazy, however, the protective part of my brain has perhaps been trying a little too hard to look after me, giving rise to anxiety and, in this case, fear. Through hypnotherapy, I was invited and able to understand and accept the need to 'let go' a bit, face up to the fact that life is full of uncertainties and 'unknowns', that I need to 'let go' of being over-protective and realise that I'm quite capable of looking after myself, without irrational anxieties seeking to do that for me. Indeed, take an anxious mind out of the equation, and you have more rational, sensible mental faculties, capable of being careful.
Quite simply, I should trust myself (and others where relevant and necessary) - thus letting go of the uncertainties and letting things just happen as they should; and in return, I should not be over-protective and press the panic button.
The second part of the session discussed how I might practice this - simply, through relaxation, breathing, positive thinking, trusting myself (and others where relevant), and 'being present' (i.e. not getting caught up in one's own thoughts and worries, away from the calmness of the present moment). Practicing this will reduce the anxiety and rationalise calmly any worries, waiting to be dispelled and dismissed. I don't have to be the perfect flyer, I just want to be a calm one.
I'm sure reading this has firmed in your mind the view that I have gone completely crazy (what is he on about?!), however, I do feel that progress has been made - like never before. I feel, finally, that we've unpacked the fear of flying, got right to the heart, and confronted the imbalance on which it rested (note the past tense ;-)). I am perhaps slightly unsure of whether it's worked, I keep trying to reassure myself that it has and will work when the time comes, and that I need to practice the right frame of mind. But I do feel different - I just looked out of my office window at a plane descending on its approach to Heathrow. I understood and believed that being on a plane (such as that one) was completely and utterly safe, in the hands of trained experts. Hell, I even wanted for a moment to be on that plane, admiring the views of London from the skies above. Last night, shortly after returning from the session, I looked in the mirror and, for some reason, beamed and clenched my fist in a gesture of victory. Nailed it.
A fortnight today we fly to Dublin for the weekend. The thing I'm worrying about the most is how many jumpers to take.
Friday, 5 September 2014
A fearful flyer? In flight insight.
So I'm writing this blog from 31,000 ft (and posting from home, I should add). Boarding this flight proved a challenge - as did boarding on Wednesday. Tears, denial, panic. And a massive breakdown on boarding which led to cabin crew chatting with me and even sending me in for a talk with the pilot men on the flight deck.
Part of me feels a bit of a fraud. Right this very second I could be mistaken for a frequent flyer. Bach is blaring out of my headphones, G and T has been consumed, the book is being read. I am calm and relaxed (apart from a basic level of constant apprehension - relatively minimal). Though I gripped the seat tightly during the bumpy ride through Scotland's resident cloud cover, and am half wondering why I AM so calm (surely I should be a bit cautious?!), all is now well aboard BA flight 2965 from Glasgow to Gatwick. The Valium and G and T may be contributing but so what.
I'm sure the people I bawled my eyes out to on the phone an hour ago will want to throttle me. But, learning as I am, an awful lot about my fear of flying, there is no getting round the huge psychological and emotional challenge and battle I endure every time I fly. The old patterns of worry and fear.
My subconscious seems constantly to remind me that I hate flying. As such when preparations and plans are made, the flight or fight response is engaged and I am left panicking, questioning If I can get on, stewing over the fact I'll be at 30,000 ft, worrying, anxious and dead set against the idea of flying. It consumes me entirely and that's what gets me worked up, run down and, well, in such a state. Guess I'm only human.
But (and Wednesday more or less showed the same) once aboard I know how to tackle any fearful thoughts (blocking them out and breathing deeply) and can enjoy - as much as I might - normal activities to a degree. I'm in the moment and dealing with it.
I guess my psychological and emotional response to flying is where I need to do some work. The idea of flying seems to be what freaks me out. And my subconscious needs to catch on to the idea that really it can be ok.
I should add that it's also ok because, following the breakdown on boarding, the cabin crew have been giving me the special treatment. Thanks to BA! Plus it's also easier because I know that the flight is a short one.
Anyway, pilot man has announced 10 minutes to landing so I'm off to await the gracious feel of terra firma once more. Shame really, quite smoothe up here ....
Wednesday, 3 September 2014
The fearful flyer: A pre-flight insight
The power of the human mind can be quite incredible and, at times, rather destructive. Any fear that any of us has is borne from any number of things created by the mind - a misperception of risk, irrational thoughts and worries, the constant thought processes that can sometimes spiral out of control. Fear feeds on this and increases as a result.
Anyone who has wasted enough time to read any of my previous posts will know that I am fearful of flying. In 6 hours I will (or at the moment due to be) airborne. BA Cityflyer services from London City to Glasgow. The plane will take off, it will cruise, the nice BA lady will come and bring me my drink, and we will land. All within the space of about 1 hour or so. That this will happen is a virtual certainty (given the statistics). To any rational person, this process is normal and easy. There's little more to it than that which I describe.
Over the last few days, I have been putting on the brave face and have striven to apply techniques, thoughts and processes learnt on a recent Fear of Flying programme. It's been tricky, but I have for the most part kept the evil demons at bay. The feelings of nervousness, or of being trapped in something you cannot get out of.
Until 14 hours ago. Since 5pm last evening, there have been two rather notable meltdowns. Irrational thinking; tears ... many tears; and, in all seriousness, the closest I have ever come to not boarding a flight (it will be so easy to stay a few more stops on the London Underground and board a Glasgow bound train at Euston). All over a 1 hour flight. Sounds pathetic, I'll bet.
A psychologist would probably paint a better picture than me; though I feel like my subconscious and conscious are battling one another. The former trained, over many years, to warn me of flying, to know that I am scared of flying and to remind me of the instances during the process that I fear the most - building them up in my mind. It's as easy to cling to these thought processes as it is to daydream. Just as a snowball running down a hill, gathers both momentum and further snow as it goes downhill, so a mind such as this can - the more it worries, frets, turns things over - increase in fear results and it becomes harder to break the cycle. Just as a snowball reaches the bottom of a hill, bangs into a wall and breaks into many pieces; so have I this morning (metaphorically speaking, of course). My conscious thoughts, however, are aware that I can get on this plane; that I can cope with it - I've done it before. I might be nervous, might not find it completely comfortable, but I will get there.
But to be honest, I think, the upset comes because I expect miracles. Having been on the recent course, I expect myself to be 100% comfortable and happy with boarding a plane and going on a flight. That is unrealistic. Rome wasn't built in a day. The continuing presence of subconscious worries and anxiety has unsettled me and led me to think that - "well I've tried, no progress has been made, let's get a holiday home in Cornwall for the rest of our days". But, of course those thoughts are going to be there. It's been my body's reaction to flying for the last 13 years since I first challenged gravity's forces. I guess the presence of some conscious thoughts, telling me I can do this and can cope (however badly or tentatively) is a sign of some progress. Maybe once the tears are wiped away I will see that. So there's frustration too.
But the thing is. That plane's going to get there either way. There seems little point in stewing for hours over a 1 hour flight over which I have no influence or control (just wish I could tell myself that!). All it does is change or - essentially - put unnecessary pressure on me - to deal with it in a particular way. That plane's going to get to Glasgow either way, whether or not I'm enjoying the ride or gripping the seat or hand of the stranger next to me. Rationally speaking it seems that easy and it's so frustrating that I cannot see it that way.
I want so badly to overcome the fear of flying - hence why I booked this. I want to board a plane as easy as I board my train every morning. But why is something so rationally normal and simple (and safe and comfortable) so difficult and such a challenge. Beats me.
Anyone who has wasted enough time to read any of my previous posts will know that I am fearful of flying. In 6 hours I will (or at the moment due to be) airborne. BA Cityflyer services from London City to Glasgow. The plane will take off, it will cruise, the nice BA lady will come and bring me my drink, and we will land. All within the space of about 1 hour or so. That this will happen is a virtual certainty (given the statistics). To any rational person, this process is normal and easy. There's little more to it than that which I describe.
Over the last few days, I have been putting on the brave face and have striven to apply techniques, thoughts and processes learnt on a recent Fear of Flying programme. It's been tricky, but I have for the most part kept the evil demons at bay. The feelings of nervousness, or of being trapped in something you cannot get out of.
Until 14 hours ago. Since 5pm last evening, there have been two rather notable meltdowns. Irrational thinking; tears ... many tears; and, in all seriousness, the closest I have ever come to not boarding a flight (it will be so easy to stay a few more stops on the London Underground and board a Glasgow bound train at Euston). All over a 1 hour flight. Sounds pathetic, I'll bet.
A psychologist would probably paint a better picture than me; though I feel like my subconscious and conscious are battling one another. The former trained, over many years, to warn me of flying, to know that I am scared of flying and to remind me of the instances during the process that I fear the most - building them up in my mind. It's as easy to cling to these thought processes as it is to daydream. Just as a snowball running down a hill, gathers both momentum and further snow as it goes downhill, so a mind such as this can - the more it worries, frets, turns things over - increase in fear results and it becomes harder to break the cycle. Just as a snowball reaches the bottom of a hill, bangs into a wall and breaks into many pieces; so have I this morning (metaphorically speaking, of course). My conscious thoughts, however, are aware that I can get on this plane; that I can cope with it - I've done it before. I might be nervous, might not find it completely comfortable, but I will get there.
But to be honest, I think, the upset comes because I expect miracles. Having been on the recent course, I expect myself to be 100% comfortable and happy with boarding a plane and going on a flight. That is unrealistic. Rome wasn't built in a day. The continuing presence of subconscious worries and anxiety has unsettled me and led me to think that - "well I've tried, no progress has been made, let's get a holiday home in Cornwall for the rest of our days". But, of course those thoughts are going to be there. It's been my body's reaction to flying for the last 13 years since I first challenged gravity's forces. I guess the presence of some conscious thoughts, telling me I can do this and can cope (however badly or tentatively) is a sign of some progress. Maybe once the tears are wiped away I will see that. So there's frustration too.
But the thing is. That plane's going to get there either way. There seems little point in stewing for hours over a 1 hour flight over which I have no influence or control (just wish I could tell myself that!). All it does is change or - essentially - put unnecessary pressure on me - to deal with it in a particular way. That plane's going to get to Glasgow either way, whether or not I'm enjoying the ride or gripping the seat or hand of the stranger next to me. Rationally speaking it seems that easy and it's so frustrating that I cannot see it that way.
I want so badly to overcome the fear of flying - hence why I booked this. I want to board a plane as easy as I board my train every morning. But why is something so rationally normal and simple (and safe and comfortable) so difficult and such a challenge. Beats me.
Monday, 7 July 2014
Flying without fear - Virgin Atlantic's course: the experience
It's been a while since I last put pen to paper and, indeed, my most recent posts have been dominated by considerations of the fear of flying. This has become, it seems, my resolution for 2014. I've already written on my experiences in flying to Nice. Yesterday, however, I took on the 'fear of flying' head on and spent the day at Gatwick on Virgin Atlantic's fear of flying course (http://www.flyingwithoutfear.co.uk/).
The day involved lots of talking, discussion, laughter, twanging of elastic bands and a flight.
We spent about 2 hours with an experienced pilot who explained every aspect of flight and of how a plane works and stays in the air. Though I found I had a basic understanding of this notion of 'lift' and how a jet stays in the air, this part of the day did so much to dispel those irrational fears, feelings and thoughts that try to convince you that the plane is going to 'fall out the sky'. Pilots think of everything that the most paranoid passenger fears. Plus every other conceivable possibility. Nothing is left to chance, they prepare for everything (absolutely everything) and are trained regularly for anything. We also heard from a member of the cabin crew - useful to hear what they are trained in and what they can do.
The second part of the day (or early evening by this point) was a psycho-educational session with a trained psychologist. We learned about fear, what it is, where it comes from and why we have it. We were taught about 'Old Thought Patterns' which have led to the fear of flying becoming entrenched in our minds and 'the way we think', and about how to challenge and tackle these with 'New Patterns' of thought, usually on the lines of flying being safe and natural etc. And we learned a number of techniques to break the Old Patterns and to remain calm in the face of anxiety. The techniques were varied - from twanging elastic bands on your wrist (to wake yourself from automatic thought processes) to karate chopping your hands together; and from deep breathing (my personal favourite) to visualizing 'spinning' thoughts and controlling them. These were and are designed to help fearful flyers to remain calm when approaching a flight and also to break these negative thought processes.
By mid-afternoon, (between the two sessions) I was slightly unnerved to find my anxiety levels rising. I had entered the day full of excitement and anticipation; not scared in the slightest. But as the clock ticked ever closer to take-off, nerves crept in. I was reassured, however - of course the nerves would increase - I was getting ever closer to thing I feared most - the flight itself.
As we got the bus to and walked through Gatwick's South Terminal the first signs of progress became obvious. In the past, arriving at the airport, going through the check-in process, and getting to the gate have usually been accompanied by a growing sense of panic, fear, and a longing to return to the car park. This time, I was joking, laughing and talking lots about work - often to the extent that I forgot where I was. That's not to say I wasn't completely unnerved. I was a bit anxious, yes; but so much less than before.
Historically, for me, boarding the plane is the worst part. And yes, the anxiety levels rose quite a bit here; but again, never to the levels I had experienced before. Though promising myself I would attempt the window seat, I happily plonked myself down on the aisle, just in front of the wings. The 30 minute time between boarding and take off were nerve-racking. Knees trembling, hand shaking (and dripping) the nerves were at their height. I reached into my pocket and swallowed a Valium and used the deep-breathing techniques to keep myself relatively calm. As in May, I found take-off to be a 'non-event'. Engines roar, nose goes up, clouds get closer and sheep get smaller. As is life. I stayed relatively calm, if a little cautious.
For the first 20 minutes of the flight, the fear came in waves. Relatively calm one minute, tackling brimming anxiety the next (especially when the two souls between me and the window embarked on a joint adventure to the toilet). The worst moments were when I managed to pluck up the courage to look out the window, only for the plane to bank and the ground suddenly to shoot downwards, out of sight.
But as the flight went on (and probably, as the Valium kicked in), I got used to my surroundings and managed to keep myself (with much greater ease) calm. It got easier. The plane did its thing, I admired Brighton from 15,000 ft and took the time to point out both the sunset and the London skyline to my fellow passengers. And then we landed. Job done.
The experience, then? Well, Rome wasn't built in a day. I went into the course half thinking that I would be 'magically cured' and get on the flight without a care in the world. This was unrealistic. I've spent the last 13 years of my life (probably more) thinking in the way that a nervous flyer thinks and responding to flights in the way that petrified air-travellers do. It's about learning what causes the fear and applying the techniques to change the way of thinking; that will take time. But I managed to show myself, towards the end of the flight, that I CAN get used to the environment that I am in; and knowing about what the plane does and is supposed to do, that environment becomes much easier to justify and rationalize. Once I am used to that environment, relaxation comes much, much more easily. And with relaxation, anxiety seeps away.
So it's about applying the knowledge and understanding, using the techniques to dispel the negative thoughts and to keep the anxiety at bay; and once used to the environment to relax and enjoy it.
Many who know me know that the little boy inside me still sucks his fingers - ONLY ever at times when he is tired and completely relaxed. As Monarch flight 9008, Gatwick - Gatwick glided over the M23 and towards runway 26L, the two fingers went in. Who cares what the dentist says, I'm taking that as a good sign. Let's go 'round again, I can tackle this fear.
Thanks Virgin Atlantic, for giving me the tools to tackle the fear of flying.
.
The day involved lots of talking, discussion, laughter, twanging of elastic bands and a flight.
We spent about 2 hours with an experienced pilot who explained every aspect of flight and of how a plane works and stays in the air. Though I found I had a basic understanding of this notion of 'lift' and how a jet stays in the air, this part of the day did so much to dispel those irrational fears, feelings and thoughts that try to convince you that the plane is going to 'fall out the sky'. Pilots think of everything that the most paranoid passenger fears. Plus every other conceivable possibility. Nothing is left to chance, they prepare for everything (absolutely everything) and are trained regularly for anything. We also heard from a member of the cabin crew - useful to hear what they are trained in and what they can do.
The second part of the day (or early evening by this point) was a psycho-educational session with a trained psychologist. We learned about fear, what it is, where it comes from and why we have it. We were taught about 'Old Thought Patterns' which have led to the fear of flying becoming entrenched in our minds and 'the way we think', and about how to challenge and tackle these with 'New Patterns' of thought, usually on the lines of flying being safe and natural etc. And we learned a number of techniques to break the Old Patterns and to remain calm in the face of anxiety. The techniques were varied - from twanging elastic bands on your wrist (to wake yourself from automatic thought processes) to karate chopping your hands together; and from deep breathing (my personal favourite) to visualizing 'spinning' thoughts and controlling them. These were and are designed to help fearful flyers to remain calm when approaching a flight and also to break these negative thought processes.
By mid-afternoon, (between the two sessions) I was slightly unnerved to find my anxiety levels rising. I had entered the day full of excitement and anticipation; not scared in the slightest. But as the clock ticked ever closer to take-off, nerves crept in. I was reassured, however - of course the nerves would increase - I was getting ever closer to thing I feared most - the flight itself.
As we got the bus to and walked through Gatwick's South Terminal the first signs of progress became obvious. In the past, arriving at the airport, going through the check-in process, and getting to the gate have usually been accompanied by a growing sense of panic, fear, and a longing to return to the car park. This time, I was joking, laughing and talking lots about work - often to the extent that I forgot where I was. That's not to say I wasn't completely unnerved. I was a bit anxious, yes; but so much less than before.
Historically, for me, boarding the plane is the worst part. And yes, the anxiety levels rose quite a bit here; but again, never to the levels I had experienced before. Though promising myself I would attempt the window seat, I happily plonked myself down on the aisle, just in front of the wings. The 30 minute time between boarding and take off were nerve-racking. Knees trembling, hand shaking (and dripping) the nerves were at their height. I reached into my pocket and swallowed a Valium and used the deep-breathing techniques to keep myself relatively calm. As in May, I found take-off to be a 'non-event'. Engines roar, nose goes up, clouds get closer and sheep get smaller. As is life. I stayed relatively calm, if a little cautious.
For the first 20 minutes of the flight, the fear came in waves. Relatively calm one minute, tackling brimming anxiety the next (especially when the two souls between me and the window embarked on a joint adventure to the toilet). The worst moments were when I managed to pluck up the courage to look out the window, only for the plane to bank and the ground suddenly to shoot downwards, out of sight.
But as the flight went on (and probably, as the Valium kicked in), I got used to my surroundings and managed to keep myself (with much greater ease) calm. It got easier. The plane did its thing, I admired Brighton from 15,000 ft and took the time to point out both the sunset and the London skyline to my fellow passengers. And then we landed. Job done.
The experience, then? Well, Rome wasn't built in a day. I went into the course half thinking that I would be 'magically cured' and get on the flight without a care in the world. This was unrealistic. I've spent the last 13 years of my life (probably more) thinking in the way that a nervous flyer thinks and responding to flights in the way that petrified air-travellers do. It's about learning what causes the fear and applying the techniques to change the way of thinking; that will take time. But I managed to show myself, towards the end of the flight, that I CAN get used to the environment that I am in; and knowing about what the plane does and is supposed to do, that environment becomes much easier to justify and rationalize. Once I am used to that environment, relaxation comes much, much more easily. And with relaxation, anxiety seeps away.
So it's about applying the knowledge and understanding, using the techniques to dispel the negative thoughts and to keep the anxiety at bay; and once used to the environment to relax and enjoy it.
Many who know me know that the little boy inside me still sucks his fingers - ONLY ever at times when he is tired and completely relaxed. As Monarch flight 9008, Gatwick - Gatwick glided over the M23 and towards runway 26L, the two fingers went in. Who cares what the dentist says, I'm taking that as a good sign. Let's go 'round again, I can tackle this fear.
Thanks Virgin Atlantic, for giving me the tools to tackle the fear of flying.
.
Wednesday, 14 May 2014
Taking to the skies: Battling the fear of flying at 35,000ft
I wrote, a few weeks back, about the fear of flying and my experiences of it. I also wrote of my determination to overcome it, something on which I am still working. Anyway, this weekend I took to the skies for a quick break to Monaco for the Historic Grand Prix and I wanted to write about these flights, if only for my own benefit of documenting the experiences.
I flew from Gatwick to Nice on Thursday evening (8th May), returning via the same route on Monday evening (12th May), both aboard one of BA's smaller jets (A319 and 737 respectively). Flying out, we had the benefit of the Club Europe experience, enjoying the fancy BA lounge at the airport and sitting in the more spacious four rows of seats at the very front of the aircraft. And the luxuries continued in flight with a full hot meal and a full compliment of drinks to match. It was 4 rows from the back for the return flight ...
The pre-flight nerves kicked in with about 24 hours to go. The thought and the fear of flying was going 'round and 'round my mind and it became increasingly difficult to control. Even a day in the office preceding the evening flight did little to calm the mood. The anxiety reached it's peak about 90 minutes before the scheduled departure, just before I dove into the security queues, with the usual denial that I could even go through with the short flight. At times, I was close to tears. One valium and a short while later, I was finding it a bit easier to relax, even encouraged by a view overlooking landing planes on the runway and the safe termination of numerous adventures into the heavens. Lots of deep breaths and happy thoughts helped too!
The breaths and thoughts continued aboard the aircraft where, being Club Europe, we were among the first to take our seats. This meant I could do my utmost to acclimatise to the unnerving surroundings and work hard to relax and stay calm. In my experiences, the fear of flying is at its peak at two points - first, on boarding the aircraft and, second, that moment when the pilot gives it the beans and demands full power from the jet engines. Though boarding was typically nerve-racking (the point of no-return #1), having had the chance to settle on board a bit meant I found take off (the point of no-return #2) unusually relaxing. I stayed relatively calm and even deigned to look out of the window to see the dusk covered Sussex countryside fall away as we reached for the skies. I remained encouragingly and unusually calm for most of the flight, employing various approved relaxation techniques whenever the little demons in my head dared to remind me that I was in a tin can, miles off the face of my home planet. The recipe was not to think too much about where I was and to try and sit back and relax in a positive frame of mind. The fear of flying is purely psychological afterall. Reading helped, as did Bach and a nice G&T. I think the fact it was only 88 minutes long and at night also played a significant part too. We went up. We came down; landing with what my flying partner described as an unusually heavy thump on French soil. Heavy or not, I didn't care. Terra firma was mine once more. The post-flight relief is something I've experienced and enjoyed before - one of the perks of having the fear of flying. I found the flight out, then, particularly encouraging and promising, describing it as one of my best. Never before had I achieved such relaxation aboard a soaring jet and I was pleased that I not only knew how I could control the gremlins in my head, but also that I could work to overcome them. Maybe I really can conquer this fear.
Sadly, such encouragement and motivation was somewhat dented on my return flight. Being stuck in cattle class, right at the very back (the most uncomfortable seats) didn't help; neither did the queasy stomach to which I had awoken that morning - probably due, in no small part, to the blistering Monaco heat of the previous day and the constantly beating sun with which it was accompanied. The nerves came much later this time, not really kicking in until we were sitting by the gate and with less than an hour to go, but when they did come I found that - both before and during the flight - I could not relax particularly easy and even where I did achieve relaxation it did not stick around. Even the glass of vino blanc enjoyed at 35,000 ft did little to help. I was on edge the whole way back, gripping the seat for most of it and fighting a constant battle in my head. Whenever I managed to calm a little and pick up my book, it took less than a minute for it to be discarded again, in preference for the arm rests. Closed eyes and the St Matthew Passion pelting my ear drums was the prevailing habit on the way back. But, I suppose, I can take one thing from the more difficult return flight. I was constantly aware that the fear was in my mind; psychological. And, looking back, the most common feeling I experienced during the 600 mile journey from Nice to Gatwick was not of fear but of frustration. Frustration that I was finding it difficult to conquer the feeling of fear in my mind. Yes I was afraid for much of the flight, but I was also aware that it was my mind that was creating that fear. I was just disheartened that I struggled to overcome it. Cue relief on landing once more.
And so, post flight thoughts? I am, I must say, looking forward to taking the Virgin Fear of Flying course on 6th July. I am still trying to see the positives - particularly of Thursday's flight - and I have shown that I can relax and stay calm (albeit on a short flight). Hopefully the professional help of Virgin Atlantic can teach me to do that more successfully than I managed on Monday evening and with longer term success. I desperately want to overcome this fear, though I know that if I can't I am resigned to a life either defined by holiday-time terror or by never seeing the world. The prospect of the former would probably make me choose the latter. Overall, the experience has been good. I flew, I survived and I showed that I could relax, stay calm and make it through. But that relaxation has also shown itself sometimes difficult to achieve. For me, I want to get to the point where I can sit and wait for a plane, board that plane and fly with as much ease as I travel by train. I'm not there, but hopefully I'm getting there. I think. Besides, the chances of dying in a plane crash are 1 in 11 million. Scared or not, I suppose I'll always get there.
Thanks for reading.
I flew from Gatwick to Nice on Thursday evening (8th May), returning via the same route on Monday evening (12th May), both aboard one of BA's smaller jets (A319 and 737 respectively). Flying out, we had the benefit of the Club Europe experience, enjoying the fancy BA lounge at the airport and sitting in the more spacious four rows of seats at the very front of the aircraft. And the luxuries continued in flight with a full hot meal and a full compliment of drinks to match. It was 4 rows from the back for the return flight ...
The pre-flight nerves kicked in with about 24 hours to go. The thought and the fear of flying was going 'round and 'round my mind and it became increasingly difficult to control. Even a day in the office preceding the evening flight did little to calm the mood. The anxiety reached it's peak about 90 minutes before the scheduled departure, just before I dove into the security queues, with the usual denial that I could even go through with the short flight. At times, I was close to tears. One valium and a short while later, I was finding it a bit easier to relax, even encouraged by a view overlooking landing planes on the runway and the safe termination of numerous adventures into the heavens. Lots of deep breaths and happy thoughts helped too!
The breaths and thoughts continued aboard the aircraft where, being Club Europe, we were among the first to take our seats. This meant I could do my utmost to acclimatise to the unnerving surroundings and work hard to relax and stay calm. In my experiences, the fear of flying is at its peak at two points - first, on boarding the aircraft and, second, that moment when the pilot gives it the beans and demands full power from the jet engines. Though boarding was typically nerve-racking (the point of no-return #1), having had the chance to settle on board a bit meant I found take off (the point of no-return #2) unusually relaxing. I stayed relatively calm and even deigned to look out of the window to see the dusk covered Sussex countryside fall away as we reached for the skies. I remained encouragingly and unusually calm for most of the flight, employing various approved relaxation techniques whenever the little demons in my head dared to remind me that I was in a tin can, miles off the face of my home planet. The recipe was not to think too much about where I was and to try and sit back and relax in a positive frame of mind. The fear of flying is purely psychological afterall. Reading helped, as did Bach and a nice G&T. I think the fact it was only 88 minutes long and at night also played a significant part too. We went up. We came down; landing with what my flying partner described as an unusually heavy thump on French soil. Heavy or not, I didn't care. Terra firma was mine once more. The post-flight relief is something I've experienced and enjoyed before - one of the perks of having the fear of flying. I found the flight out, then, particularly encouraging and promising, describing it as one of my best. Never before had I achieved such relaxation aboard a soaring jet and I was pleased that I not only knew how I could control the gremlins in my head, but also that I could work to overcome them. Maybe I really can conquer this fear.
Sadly, such encouragement and motivation was somewhat dented on my return flight. Being stuck in cattle class, right at the very back (the most uncomfortable seats) didn't help; neither did the queasy stomach to which I had awoken that morning - probably due, in no small part, to the blistering Monaco heat of the previous day and the constantly beating sun with which it was accompanied. The nerves came much later this time, not really kicking in until we were sitting by the gate and with less than an hour to go, but when they did come I found that - both before and during the flight - I could not relax particularly easy and even where I did achieve relaxation it did not stick around. Even the glass of vino blanc enjoyed at 35,000 ft did little to help. I was on edge the whole way back, gripping the seat for most of it and fighting a constant battle in my head. Whenever I managed to calm a little and pick up my book, it took less than a minute for it to be discarded again, in preference for the arm rests. Closed eyes and the St Matthew Passion pelting my ear drums was the prevailing habit on the way back. But, I suppose, I can take one thing from the more difficult return flight. I was constantly aware that the fear was in my mind; psychological. And, looking back, the most common feeling I experienced during the 600 mile journey from Nice to Gatwick was not of fear but of frustration. Frustration that I was finding it difficult to conquer the feeling of fear in my mind. Yes I was afraid for much of the flight, but I was also aware that it was my mind that was creating that fear. I was just disheartened that I struggled to overcome it. Cue relief on landing once more.
And so, post flight thoughts? I am, I must say, looking forward to taking the Virgin Fear of Flying course on 6th July. I am still trying to see the positives - particularly of Thursday's flight - and I have shown that I can relax and stay calm (albeit on a short flight). Hopefully the professional help of Virgin Atlantic can teach me to do that more successfully than I managed on Monday evening and with longer term success. I desperately want to overcome this fear, though I know that if I can't I am resigned to a life either defined by holiday-time terror or by never seeing the world. The prospect of the former would probably make me choose the latter. Overall, the experience has been good. I flew, I survived and I showed that I could relax, stay calm and make it through. But that relaxation has also shown itself sometimes difficult to achieve. For me, I want to get to the point where I can sit and wait for a plane, board that plane and fly with as much ease as I travel by train. I'm not there, but hopefully I'm getting there. I think. Besides, the chances of dying in a plane crash are 1 in 11 million. Scared or not, I suppose I'll always get there.
Thanks for reading.
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