I am terrified of flying. In short, I am terrified of dying on the flight due to a crash, storm, birds, terrorists, pilot error, and that song "Isn't it Ironic" by Alanis Morrisette.

Typically, I am all about the conquer-and-overcome-I've done it before: four years in the army, losing over 70 pounds, and even overcoming an irrational fear of squirrels. So why can't I dump this phobia? 

I was booked to go on a business trip from Toronto to Miami in February, and while the warm weather was hard to say no to, the anxiety of flying made saying yes challenging and somewhat difficult. My business trip didn't become real until I received my itinerary.  My head began to spin and before I completely lost it, I did what any other person would've done: Googled. The results of my search on what was giving me so much anxiety, revealed that this fear is a common one and treatment results yielded psychotherapists, hypnotists and doctor dispensed medications. I settled on the Fear of Flying Clinic. 

On my first meeting with him, my therapist Paul got right down to business, asking me specific questions about my fears. Paul threw out a bunch of safety statistics that made me feel uncomfortable, and then the appointment was over.

Appointment two: commence meltdown. Everything seemed fine until Paul started walking me through "F-Day" (Flight Day). The "trigger" was "soothing jet engines." Since when are jet engines-powerful and attached to a long cylindrical piece of tin hurtling through the air at over 300mph-soothing? I broke. Tears, shaking, sobbing. Paul was confused and concerned and wrote a letter requesting medication and asked me to visit a doctor.  

I went home and wrestled with flying medicated. Wasn't that going against what I was trying to accomplish? Also a skeptic, I wondered what doctor would hand over a prescription for controlled medication to a walk-in patient? The next day I walked in to the walk-in, handed the doctor the letter, and cue more tears and anxiety.  She wrote the script and sent me away with tissues.  

In the days that followed, the anxiety grew. I started studying weather patterns, looking at the jet stream and even consulted the Farmer's Almanac.  I reviewed all the safety features of the airplane, and chose an aisle seat close to an exit.  

F-Day finally came and before I knew it I was on the curb at the airport with my bag. 

There was check in, customs, security and the gate. I popped one pill and prayed. I boarded, got my aisle seat and buckled my seat belt. The announcements and safety video began. Then the plane was moving and airborne. Paul's words echoed in my head "soothing jet engines" and I finally put it together (jet engines means plane is working properly which means I am safe). Eureka. I watched a movie, drank a soda, used the restroom, and then the plane landed. It was that simple. Was it the medication, or the therapy sessions?  

Since returning, I intend to continue my sessions. I am not planning any flights as of yet, but it's great to know that it is possible for me to fly. I am convinced that I will be able to fly without medication and look forward to that. For now, it's one day (and one appointment) at a time.
 
by Meredith Eng