Inside Passage Wellness

Flying is not my favorite. It is a “turbulent” relationship that turned sour during the pandemic. Not because of face masks or fear of Covid, specifically. But like many people during that time, the stress of the world rocked my already unsteady foundation. For me, my ability to “control”, or the illusion of, dismantled when flying….of course. It left me vulnerable to panic attacks and intense anxiety. An opportunity, as my therapist would reframe, for me to do some deep healing. Ugh….healing.

In 2020, on  a flight home from my daughter’s soccer tournament, I had my first panic attack. Phoenix to Seattle. I didn’t know what was happening. My vision started to narrow. My body became tingly. I was both chilly and sweating. I felt out of control like I was going to throw up, pass out, start screaming, and cry all at the same time. 

While my internal world was falling apart, from the outside I seemed fine. My husband sitting next to me knew nothing of the situation until we made it home which meant catching the connecting flight from Seattle to Ketchikan. It was as if I couldn’t speak of it. Not acknowledging it allowed me to feel like I could control it, like it didn’t really happen.

That protection of silence continued. There was a sense that if I said it out loud the fear would spread, like I could “infect” others. When shared with a therapist I was seeing over Zoom, said she too was afraid of flying, I stopped seeing her. Movies that contained scenes with planes spiked my anxiety. Hearing or seeing the planes land and take off, made my breath shallow and tears brim behind my eyes. Even the stormy weather or the sound of the wind chimes on the deck would bring back the tingling sensation in my chest.

Living on an island became even more isolating where one of the only ways to leave is by plane. Trips planned months in advance would hold court in my mind with worry. And the daily anxiety that I always had felt dialed up to a level 10 making everything feel unsafe and everyone I loved in danger.

I sought the help of doctors knowing that I couldn’t continue with the constant dread in my chest. I was prescribed pills. “Benzos” that were supposed to help the acute issue of flying like Ativan and Xanax and ones that would help ease the daily anxiety like Lexapro.  I read books. I doubled down on yoga and meditation. I even enrolled in a yoga teacher training to find the secret to regulating my nervous system. I speed dated therapists. I took supplements, so many supplements. Vitamin D was my best friend.

Some of the tools worked, others not so much. I eventually ditched the Ativan and Xanax. But stayed with the Lexapro. I was surprised at how much lighter my body felt when I wasn’t hyper vigilant. I continued with my yoga training, eventually becoming a teacher. Being accountable to teaching, kept me in my own practice. Speed dating worked out and I found an amazing therapist.

Five years later, I still teach yoga. I still go to therapy. But after researching other factors influencing my mental health, mainly the hormonal fluctuation of perimenopause, I decided to ween myself off of Lexapro this past summer. The first stage of halving the dose was awful: headaches, fogginess, even little “zips” in my brain. After those symptoms subsided I came completely off worried the next phase would be worse. It wasn’t.

There was a sense of pride being off the medication. Like I was “tougher” not being medicated even though I was so relieved when I first started. But then Fall and Winter came. The darker days, the low cloud cover, the sideways rain. And deeper into Winter and even start of Spring my anxiety started to tip toe back, taking up more space in my body. The rumination of the mind hopped on the hamster wheel. 

And an upcoming family vacation to find sunshine had me checking the weather app every hour to predict the flight we had to take. Even though I didn’t have the medication to numb the anxiety, I still had other tools. My breath practice. My orientation practice. I know how to ground, how to talk to my inner child. My tool bag is big and full. I’m practically Mary Poppins.

And still, I felt anxious. Not just on the plane, but on vacation too. I felt frustrated that I couldn’t relax and enjoy the time with my family. Every tense word to my child, doubled down on the guilt. It felt like my gas tank was empty just getting myself to a “normal” state and had nothing left to find the joy. The seasonal depression I blamed my mood on followed me into the sun.

I’m not sure where to go from here or what the lesson is.  I suppose the obvious one is that growth isn’t linear. That we might circle back at times to old tools that we thought were put away. Maybe I’ll start Lexapro again, maybe I won’t. Maybe this dip is related to the hormonal dance of perimenopause and there are supplements that can help. I don’t know. 

What I do know though, is that I’m going to give myself grace. I’m going to treat myself as I would a dear friend. I’m going to rest when I need it and continue to seek answers. I’m also not going to stay quiet. I’m going to share with my family. I’m going to give it less power, by sharing.

I hope that if you struggle with your mental health you’ll do the same and know that you’re not alone. You’re not broken. Being in this human body is both beautiful and challenging at times. So be gentle with yourself…give yourself grace, treat yourself as you would a dear friend. Allow yourself to rest when needed and continue to seek answers. You are worthy of the effort.