VIV Moments

Hometown

Hancock, ME

Joie de VIVre

My incredibly intelligent and talented family and two amazing grandchildren.

VIV Moment

I have always been disappointed in myself when I let fear rule parts of my life, and the greatest fear I had was fear of flying. I tried it for the first time back in 1996. That was when my husband, two kids and I decided to move to Maine from our home state of Tennessee. We had been to Maine on a vacation trip (driving, of course), bought a house, and in October 1996, my husband, Ed, and I had to fly to Maine to close on the house.

I was terrified. I didn’t have sense enough to ask my doctor for some anti-anxiety medication, so I took some Tylenol PM, hoping it would relax me. The flight for anyone else would have been labeled as perfect — sunny skies, no ice, snow or other weather-related worries, and no turbulence. But for me, my fear masked any pleasure I might have received, and I spent the flight trying to do anything and everything to get my mind off where I was. I tried to quietly sing opera, I recited poems, I cried, I whined, I cried some more, until finally the man in the seat directly in front of me — apparently having heard enough of my outbursts — said, “Lady, if you see me break this window and jump out of this plane, THEN you can be upset. Until then, just SHUT UP!” I was so out of control that instead of changing planes in Boston as planned, my husband rented a car and drove the rest of the way. My husband said he was never getting on another plane with me anytime soon.

Of course, we still had to fly again on the way back, and it was just as bad.

I vowed never to fly again after that — 9/11 only reinforced my decision. We were happy in Maine, and we took trips to Memphis every couple of years. These trips consisted of a long drive of three-and-a-half days each way (which made a whole week of driving). I had no desire to get on another plane as long as I lived. The interstate was my friend.

In the spring of 2008, our son and his wife (Matt and Sarah) decided to buy tickets for a flight to Memphis to see the family in August, and as a lark, they asked me if I wanted to accompany them. Lots of thoughts raced through my head. My mother had just turned 85, for one thing. If life took its usual course, I knew that one day I might get a call from my sister in Memphis to come ASAP, which would entail a plane flight. If I chose to go with Matt and Sarah, I would be traveling with seasoned fliers who could help me relax and give me confidence. I took a deep breath and said, “OK.”

We made preparations. Matt and Sarah used their computer skills to make me two “freak-out” coupons, each good for “a freak-out on the plane, in the airport, going through security, etc…” but after two freak-outs they would pretend not to know me. I soon decided that the success of this trip hinged on attitude. By golly, I wasn’t just going to TOLERATE this trip, I was going to ENJOY it. I knew this fear had to be overcome, with some attitude adjustment and a little Ativan, I was determined to overcome this paralyzing fear.

The trip was wonderful. With my positive attitude and the “letting go” of the realization I had no control up there, I never had to use my freak-out coupons, so I framed them for my wall. I even bought a little replica of a plane for my keychain, so that every time I saw it, I would remember my success in conquering my fear of flying.

Oh, by the way, one month after my amazing trip, a call did indeed come from my sister, saying Mom had been in a car accident and was in ICU with broken hip and ankle. I immediately made plans to fly down, and since then, I’ve flown back for another trip by myself — changing planes in Detroit on both trips.

Mom is recovering now, and I think part of her recovery has been eased by knowing that if she needs me, I can fly on a moment’s notice.

Meeting this challenge has changed my life. It has made me realize that I can accomplish more than I realize, and that my power is far greater than I thought — 2008 was the year I finally found my wings.

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