I wish the inside of my head MADE SENSE
Jun. 20th, 2011 06:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardUgh, so I'm still in panic attack mode, and expect to be so for the next couple of weeks or so. Like, I'm sure I'll be fine once I actually get to Cambridge and once I'm in the airport and all, I don't freak out while I'm actually doing something, but right now the extent to which I would rather be doing anything else in the world is pretty extreme. Like, if I hadn't already bought my tickets and paid for my program and so on, I would seriously be thinking about staying home. I was pretty seriously considering that before I bought the tickets and paid for the program -- sure, I'd lose the deposit, but it was my money, I guess I could throw away the $500 if I had to. Only my grandmother gave me money so that I could pay for this, so at that point I couldn't not go, because she gave me money.
And now I'm going, "What the fuck am I going to be doing for the twenty-four hours between when I arrive in London and when I actually get to Cambridge?" Which, okay, at some point I will get my act together and tellclanwilliam what time I am coming in (for the record: around ten am) and politely ask where I should go from Heathrow, and then at some point figure out when the next day I should actually go to Cambridge and how I should get there and plan to meet up with aella_irene, but mostly I am just NOT THINKING ABOUT IT, because when I do think about it I get really emotional and teary and just really want to pretend it's not happening. Which happens every time I have to travel, including when I'm going between New Orleans and Ellensburg. And, look, I am a pretty experienced traveler for someone my age; I've flown cross-country four to six times a year every year for the past three years, I've been flying internationally since I was one. But you know what? Flying has gotten about a million times more stressful in the past ten years, and I'm not just saying that because now I fly by myself, not with my parents. When I flew back to Seattle over Christmas, my panic attacks were starting around Thanksgiving (which is, by the way, when they put in the new security measures, so I had an actualfax reason) and continued merrily on right up until I was actually in transit. So, you know, I am very tired of flying and I am kind of irritated with the fact I'm not flying nonstop, because apparently the flight would be half as long (but also, like, twice as expensive). Oh, well, all my miles are in one place, maybe when I go back to New Orleans I can go for free or first class or something.
(As a side note, in the middle of that paragraph I went away to dinner and then came back, so I'm calmer now than I was when I started writing this.)
Anyway. I'm in flat-out denial about the fact I'm actually going to England in a bit less than two weeks, which probably isn't the healthiest attitude I could have, but whatever. When I do think about it, I'm not kidding about the tears; last night I actually had to get up and try on clothes for the better part of an hour until I calmed down enough to actually go to sleep. (Look, I still have clothes from middle school, okay? The clothes I actually wear I can't put in my dresser because there's stuff in there, so they're piled on the floor. YEAH.)
At some point I'll actually figure out what I'm doing when I arrive, but hey: still in denial. So if I am arranging to meet you in London/Cambridge, or have said I want to, and I'm not following it up, it's because if I think about this, I cry. And there's only so much of that I can take at a time. I know! It doesn't make any sense. Trust me, I feel terrible about it.
(Especially since today I went with my dad to pick up one of his new ESL students, and at least I'm going to another country where (a) I speak the language and (b) I know people. So now I feel EVEN WORSE about being freaked out.)
And now I'm going, "What the fuck am I going to be doing for the twenty-four hours between when I arrive in London and when I actually get to Cambridge?" Which, okay, at some point I will get my act together and tell
clanwilliam what time I am coming in (for the record: around ten am) and politely ask where I should go from Heathrow, and then at some point figure out when the next day I should actually go to Cambridge and how I should get there and plan to meet up with aella_irene, but mostly I am just NOT THINKING ABOUT IT, because when I do think about it I get really emotional and teary and just really want to pretend it's not happening. Which happens every time I have to travel, including when I'm going between New Orleans and Ellensburg. And, look, I am a pretty experienced traveler for someone my age; I've flown cross-country four to six times a year every year for the past three years, I've been flying internationally since I was one. But you know what? Flying has gotten about a million times more stressful in the past ten years, and I'm not just saying that because now I fly by myself, not with my parents. When I flew back to Seattle over Christmas, my panic attacks were starting around Thanksgiving (which is, by the way, when they put in the new security measures, so I had an actualfax reason) and continued merrily on right up until I was actually in transit. So, you know, I am very tired of flying and I am kind of irritated with the fact I'm not flying nonstop, because apparently the flight would be half as long (but also, like, twice as expensive). Oh, well, all my miles are in one place, maybe when I go back to New Orleans I can go for free or first class or something.(As a side note, in the middle of that paragraph I went away to dinner and then came back, so I'm calmer now than I was when I started writing this.)
Anyway. I'm in flat-out denial about the fact I'm actually going to England in a bit less than two weeks, which probably isn't the healthiest attitude I could have, but whatever. When I do think about it, I'm not kidding about the tears; last night I actually had to get up and try on clothes for the better part of an hour until I calmed down enough to actually go to sleep. (Look, I still have clothes from middle school, okay? The clothes I actually wear I can't put in my dresser because there's stuff in there, so they're piled on the floor. YEAH.)
At some point I'll actually figure out what I'm doing when I arrive, but hey: still in denial. So if I am arranging to meet you in London/Cambridge, or have said I want to, and I'm not following it up, it's because if I think about this, I cry. And there's only so much of that I can take at a time. I know! It doesn't make any sense. Trust me, I feel terrible about it.
(Especially since today I went with my dad to pick up one of his new ESL students, and at least I'm going to another country where (a) I speak the language and (b) I know people. So now I feel EVEN WORSE about being freaked out.)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-21 08:23 pm (UTC)Excellent! I am looking forward to walking around in Cambridge.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-22 12:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2011-06-22 06:42 pm (UTC)Thank you for the advice!