Thanks, but I think I'll take the stairs

"Melissa! I heard you're going back to Poland this summer. When do you leave?"

"August 13. I'm really excited."

"I'm happy for you. By the way, did you hear about that French plane that disappeared over the Atlantic last week?"

Gulp. Seriously. Why do people say things like that?!?

There are two things that terrify me. Elevators and flying.

I hate elevators. I avoid them at all costs. A few years back I went with a friend to a conference in DC. Our hotel room was on the 10th floor. She thought I was insane, but I took the stairs. "Lis, that's nuts. It'll take you twice as long to walk those stairs than if you just got in the elevator."
Yes, I realize this. But somethings are just not worth the fear. When I have to get in an elevator, it is all I can do to keep from breaking into a panic attack. My throat closes, my heart races, and my eyesight starts to blur around the edges. It's all I can do to remind myself to breathe. A friend had suggested that I should see someone about "getting over my irrational fear". Do you know what that entails?? They make you GET IN an elevator! And leave you there! And make it shake and do all kinds of horrid things.
God gave me two perfectly good legs. I'm perfectly content with my very rational fear. So thanks but no thanks, I'll take the stairs.

Flying isn't quite as bad, but it's close. I'm okay once I'm actually in the air. But it's the days and weeks and even months leading up to it that are insufferable. I get so anxious that I simply have to force myself not to think about it. But the thought springs up out of the blue and leaves my hands clammy and my pulse racing.

"what if, what if, what if..."

Now I KNOW the statistics. You're more likely to be in a car accident than in a plane accident. Yada, yada, yada. I bet the people on that French air plane told themselves the same thing.

"what if, what if, what if...."

Thoughts of Emily worry me constantly. What if something bad happens to me too? (knock on wood). In light of Emily's death, is it selfish to knowingly put yourself in the situation where something bad could happen? (double knock on wood).

If Emily were here, she would tell me to get over myself. And then she'd tell me that if I didn't go, I couldn't bring her back a present.

So I drive myself to distraction worrying about this for months. And as the plane is taking off, I'm making the sign of the cross and holding onto my cross necklace. (Is Catholicism genetic? The only time I do that is flying. I think that's the Irish in me coming out.) But once we're up--- I start to breathe again. I suppose I figure by then it's too late to do anything about it. Totally beyond my control. I still get nervous when I feel the plane move, but it's not a paralyzing fear that I get in the months leading up to the flight.

I'm hoping it'll be easier this year. Last year I got stuck by myself on the opposite side of the plane from our team members. With a seatmate who didn't speak English, and who took great advantage of Polish Airlines never ending supply of free Vodka. Seriously? Open bar on an airplane? Does that make ANY sense? Oy. There is nothing more unsettling than waking up to find a strange man's hand on your knee. And I discovered that there are some things that cross a language barrier with lightning speed. One of those things is a slap.
This year I made sure to get a seat with the rest of the team. So once I get to Chicago and meet up with everyone hopefully it will be easier since I'll be able to wile away the hours talking instead of fending myself off from drunk seatmates and watching American cartoons in Polish... (by the way, did you know that Donald Duck sounds exactly the same in Polish as he does in American?! )

A friend told me laughingly that it's too bad my alternative to flying isn't quite as easy as my alternative to elevators. A boat to Poland would take much, much longer. And these days the ocean seems to be infested with pirates. If I had to choose between the "what-if's" in my head and a band of pirates... I think I'll take the plane.

This same friend also found it amusing that I stress more before the flight than when I'm on it. "Lis, that's a little backwards isn't it? Most people are afraid during the flight."

Yes well.... that's me. I'm a walking abnormality.

Given the choice, I think I'd rather be a wreck for an eight hour flight than for the 8 months leading up to it. Actually, if I've got the power to choose... I'd rather not be afraid at all.

But what makes something worth the fear? I get almost as nervous about flying as I do about getting in an elevator. Now, if someone I loved was in trouble and was on the 10th floor of a building, and I was the only person who could help them..... you bet your you-know-what I'd be on that elevator quicker than you could say boo.

So something beyond yourself is kind of worth the fear.

I suppose that's what keeps me going when I start thinking about Poland. The thought that for whatever reason, this is where I feel called to go. This isn't a vacation trip for me, or a sightseeing tour. I really feel a tug on my heart when I think of those families who have been waiting so long for a house. And that makes my fears a little easier to deal with.

A little.

I don't want to become a slave to my fears. I don't want my fears to keep me from living. There are still so many places I want to see - most which require flying. And next year I'm hoping to go somewhere different with Habitat. Which also will require flying. So I'll get on my plane.

But the elevator is a different story. There are some fears that don't need to be conquered. When it comes to that.... thanks, but I'll keep taking my stairs.