When I tell people about my fear of flying, it mostly elicits mild sympathy. A half-hearted “Oh, I know, isn’t flying stressful.” Or a light chuckle and a kindly “Don’t worry about it.” My partner is more blunt and tells me straight-up that I’m ridiculous to worry about such things. Driving a car is much more dangerous than flying in an airplane. The statistical likelihood of a plane crash is tiny. “Stop overreacting.”

But the problem is, I can’t stop overreacting.

When I’m on a plane and there is the slightest hint of turbulence, I brace myself, fists clenched, breathing quickened. And then when it happens, the howling gust of wind that shakes the whole aircraft with a deep rumble, I am in a complete state of panic. And I have no way of getting myself out.

I had such an episode on a recent cross-country flight. It was a beautiful sunny afternoon when we took off and, for once, I started to relax. There were no dark clouds or storms in sight to disrupt the journey. The air stewardess started wheeling her trolley down the aisle, the passenger next to me tapped away at his laptop, and I leaned back into my seat, blissed out and listening to music.

Then it happened. There was a sudden, deafening rush of wind and the plane lurched from side to side.

The plastic water cup rolled off my tray. Then a further shudder and the aircraft jerked up and down. My worst nightmare. I looked outside and saw the wings of the plane flailing about in a blur. The air stewardess dropped to her knees and clutched her trolley. That was the last straw. Usually it is just me who freaks out, but seeing an apparently seasoned flyer do the same sent me over the edge. I couldn’t breathe. Terror gripped my entire body as the plane was buffeted about. Completely helpless and alone, I leaned forward, buried my face in the seat in front of me and sobbed.

Suddenly, I felt a hand rubbing my back. Then, a warm voice saying, “Don’t worry, it’s alright. You’re going to be just fine. You’re going to be ok.” Over and over again. My initial surprise at the contact faded and a feeling of calm enveloped me amidst the chaos. The hand kept rubbing my back in the same circular motion. I felt almost hypnotized. I was still hunched over with my face in the seat, but slowly felt my breathing and my muscles relax. I started to sit up again. By now, the ride had started to smoothen and I finally unclenched my fists. My forearms ached from gripping the armrests so hard. I looked over at my neighboring passenger, and he took his hand off my back. “See, you’re fine. There’s nothing to worry about, is there,” he said, with a wide, comforting smile. I murmured an appreciative thank you and, slightly embarrassed, plugged in my earphones again.

I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, though. I had expected to be jeered at by fellow travelers for my emotional meltdown, or at least condescended to and treated like a child, as has happened many times in the past.

But this time, a complete stranger had shown me such kindness and support, so free of judgment, that it had taken my breath away.

Now, when I travel by plane, I have learned some helpful strategies to cope with my fear. But, most of all, I have developed a new feeling of calm and confidence when flying. This one encounter reaffirmed my belief that, somehow, it is all going to be ok. And that’s really all you need sometimes to come out of the darkness.

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by Ahalya
Image by Simpsons Wikia

Tags:  aerophobia fear of flying flying kindness phobia strangers travel