The Fuckin’ Airport

Travelling is especially emotional.

Every time I travel, I regret not having trained enough that week. But the anxiety of the trip just hijacks my sleep.

That, along with the soul-destroying fear of “what if someone notices I’ve gotten worse” and the nagging voice that asks, “Who am I kidding?”

It happens every time. And after the trip I’m more determined than ever to avoid that slippery slope.

The airport is what reminds me of what I’m trying to avoid. Staff scramble to get a wheelchair and every time I tell myself that no one can see the tears I can’t stop.

I whisper to myself, “It’s okay, this will be over soon and then I’ll be safe.”

And when it’s done, I regroup, refocus. I tell myself, “No one saw me fall off the stool.”

And if they did?

Well, I hope they got a laugh.