Once, many years ago, I traveled alone abroad for work. That was back in the days when I had competence and self-confidence. And my stress levels were much, much lower. I didn’t have kids and I saw travel as an adventure.
I have to go to Belgium for a family obligation for a week. I know, I know. No one wants to read about someone HAVING to fly to Europe to eat chocolate and waffles. The family obligation is no fun and will be very stressful. But, I need to suck. It. Up.
I hate flying. I used to love it, but then there was the plane ride where the pilot kept getting on the intercom to tell us that they had to dump a bunch of luggage because we might NOT clear the mountains in our way. Flying scares me and I had a nightmare about my upcoming plane trip to London. Let me just say that if I see Kurt Russell boarding my plane, I will run a mile.
Mostly the thing that bothers me is I have only had three days to make this happen. I’m a planner, I like planning for every eventuality. I absolutely HATE the idea of being away from my kids for seven days. And not just in another town a few miles away. I’ll be 3,000 miles away. It makes me feel helpless. If I had had advance warning, I would have adapted to this in my mind, and best of all, gotten the twins ready mentally for the fact that Mommy is going away. They are super-attached to me and I have never left them for more than three days, and that was when they were much younger. I am worried that they are going to be traumatized by my leaving so suddenly.
I’m sure this trip will help me develop self-confidence, independence and moxie. I have no moxie any more. But right now I want to hide under a rock and ignore the whole thing.
Do you find that your sense of adventure is not the same since you have become older and more responsible? Or do you thirst for greater adventure in a life that may seem full of structure and routine?