The fear factor

(ithoughtathink.blogspot.com)

What are you afraid of?

I mean, really afraid of?

I don't mean the
"oh, no-giggle-I'm afraid of-giggle-spiders-giggle-

get that daddy long legs away from me right now-giggle" type of fear. 

(Please note- I am not demeaning anyone's real fear of spiders)

I don't mean the

"oh, nooooo. I am going to miss my bus

and then I wont have time to grab a coffee before work" type of fear

(though, granted, coffee deprivation can be pretty terrifying)

I mean, the " your heart rate goes up, you start to feel sweaty and clammy and faint and hot and cold,

all at once, you get really nervous,

the adrenalin kicks in" type of fear.

(winningminds.co.uk)

For me, as I have said before, I am pretty much scared to death by the thought of death.

(Now that would be an ironic turn of events, wouldn't it?)

Then there are heights.

Or specifically flying.

(journeyetc.com)

Really odd considering that growing up in Tasmania

meant that we pretty much flew everywhere to go on holidays.

I don't remember being afraid then.

It would seem that I have developed in the last 5 - 10 years.

It coincides with both motherhood

as well as the sudden of rise of extreme terrorism in the world.

I think that you have a greater sense of your mortality

once you become a parent.

I also know that I am a worrier and a pessimist and I am prone to obsessive behaviour

so I do consider the possibility of terrorism when I fly.

I know some of you are puzzling over this 

and saying "But you do know that you are more likely to die

each time you get in a car than you are when you fly on a plane,

don't you?"

Yes, I know the stats.

And stats mean nothing to the person who is about to die in a plane crash,

even if it should be safer than driving a car.

I have sat, hot and clammy, during take-off and turbulence,

and held the hand of my nervous, like-minded, middle child,

telling him that everything was OK, it's all good, don't worry...

while my older child announced with that youthful enthusiasm and naivety

 that planes don't crash.

My middle child is now happy to fly.

Lucky him.

I don't like to be afraid.

I don't get my jollies from being flung around at great speeds

or dropped suddenly and unexpectedly.

I don't get a thrill from watching seemingly immortal weirdos in ice hockey masks with chainsaws

hunt down nubile 16 year old virgins

while I munch my popcorn.

Mr Boozle and I have just planned a wonderful holiday for two.

It involves two plane flights in each direction

plus possibly a return journey in a small plane during the holiday

(Oh, do not get me started on small planes)

I am already thinking about the fact that we need to fly.

I will be a little edgy in the days leading up to the flights.

The relief I feel when the wheels hit the runway and the plane lands safely

will be obvious to anyone who can read basic body language.

I don't know if this will get better or worse with time.

I figure it is not bad enough to stop me from making plans

and taking the flights

so it is not an uncontrolled fear.

But if you threaten to withhold my morning coffee,

I might need counselling.

(gev.com)