The Day Life Got 100% Scarier
My first time on a plane was an overseas flight. I was 11, summer before sixth grade. I still remember the playlist they had on the in-flight entertainment. I always wondered why “Sloop John B” made the playlist, but that refrain - “I wanna go home - Let me go home! (woah woah) this is the worst trip I’ve ever been on” will always remind me of that trip.
Having never flown before, I was comfortable enough in the plane seat (plenty of space for 11 year-old self). The entertainment and food were novelties. The one thing that made me beyond nervous was the bathroom. I was just certain that I’d flush myself down that airplane toilet and right out of the bottom of the airplane.
And this was not my only toilet-related fear. Out of nowhere I developed a mental image of a snake slithering up through the bowl while I was preoccupied attending to the purpose of the visit. I also feared the same event, but featuring a squirrel. I know, the squirrel scenario seems especially unlikely, but in my minds’ eye, it seemed very real, and entirely possible.
These fears would surface specifically in the late night, time for the last bathroom trip of the day; and would paralyze me. I’d lay in bed, knowing I could not fall asleep without taking care of bathroom business, but too terrified to go. I did realize it was a ridiculous and irrational thing to fear, so I didn't speak it aloud to anyone for fear of sounding crazy, or of not being taken seriously (and which of those is worse?) …which in turn made it all the more powerful.
I knew these fears were irrational. I’d never once heard of any snake slithering up through any plumbing pipes, much less a squirrel, (granted this was pre-internet) but that reality didn’t stop me from thinking fearful thoughts.
I didn’t think to fear the much more possible, rational things. I skated by with little worry until the weekend I turned 39 and Brian sustained a concussion while surfing. I’d always considered surf less dangerous than skate (b/c of falling in water vs concrete) but when I realized he was *this close* to being knocked out cold underwater … my view shifted.
The next evening while camping, I stepped off the railroad tie bordering our campsite in the dark, thinking the ground was a 6-inch step down - to find it was 3 feet down. I turned my ankle, and in addition I suddenly saw potential danger in everything. Anything could be painful. Everything seemed risky. We could be ruined in an instant: In the hobby we have always enjoyed; in a moment of slight misperception. I’d never noticed it, but human fragility was suddenly searingly obvious.
I learned the reality of intrusive thoughts and could envision 5 ways any situation might go wrong. I had to start learning to deal with them. I’ve been humbled by becoming more aware of my total lack of control, but seeing that also makes each day a kind of miracle. “Today it didn’t all go wrong! Today things are okay.” Even when they’re not the kind of okay I wish for, there’s something going right.