Travel

Traveling makes me sick.

Okay, that’s not fair.

I get nervous going to places like airports, greyhound bus stations. The starting places for long journeys with a lot of commitment and planning behind them. I have trouble sleeping. I get jumpy. I can’t eat. I can’t focus. If it’s really bad, I may get centipedes in my stomach.

But it doesn’t happen when I’m driving somewhere, or road tripping with just the family or a few friends. It happens when I’m handing all of the important bits, all of this ‘where are we going, how are we getting there, what will it be like’ over to, you know, total strangers who I have only paid to try and ensure that they care for me.

There are hoops to jump through, steps that have to be taken. And if I fail at them, if something happens and I am late to the embarking point, they won’t call me to see what’s up.

They’ll just leave without me.

And maybe if I do get there, they’ll still decide that they, for example, don’t want to take all my things along with me. Or they changed their minds and they aren’t going to take me at all

So it makes me nervous.

I twitch and fret and hurry until I’m done with all the steps, until the only thing left to do is wait for the signal to get on the bus/plane.

And then I’m okay, until I’m in control again.

I guess that’s the thing. I’m out of control. And once that transition is complete, it’s okay. Because there is nothing I can do. But before then, it’s really stressful. Because I’m loosing control. Inch by inch, in a hurry to run and turn over my life. Still responsible, but as out of control of traffic, sudden medical accidents, my brain working as I always am.

I thought that was interesting.

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