Fear of Planes
I have been on at least 45 flights in my life (and, God willing, five more to go on this year), but I'm still afraid of flying. I have had eager flight enthusiasts tell me that statistically the first 15 minutes and last 15 minutes of a flight are the most dangerous parts of a flight. That's still like one third of a flight to Vancouver. I've even watched a lot of pilot videos explaining how safe flights are. Many people have told me it's more likely to die on the way to the airport, than on a flight. It still doesn't do anything for my anxiety.
I am afraid of dying, in general. I feel like I still have so much life to live. I'd rather die at a ripe old age, death clearly on the horizon, instead of young and suddenly.
It's better to welcome death than to fear it, I know. A good Catholic would be happy to join God in heaven. But my fate in the afterlife is, uh, up in the air. Best case scenario is purgatory. Worst case... Well, you know.
I think I'm being overdramatic. I'll be on a plane in less than twelve hours, and I'm nervous.
I remember one homily where the priest said that one antidote to anxiety is gratitude. I'm going to Japan, of all places, I know I should be grateful. I'm blessed with a good job, the ability to take time off, the savings to spend on a trip, and the opportunity to go to Japan a second time.
My worries are small compared to others, especially with what's going on in the world right now.
The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear?
d.v.