I Almost Cancelled My Bali Trip Because Of Anxiety
My boyfriend, his roommates, and I went to Washington Square Park to play Settlers of Catan. When we finished (I did not win), my boyfriend went to a show with his client and I headed back to his apartment with his roommates. I jumped in the shower and midway through washing my hair, someone knocked on the bedroom door. I screamed, “I’m in the shower!” and never heard a knock again. You know where my mind took me in that moment? Is Jason ok? What if something happened to him on the way to the show and now he has to go to the hospital? And what if they knocked to tell me and they’re leaving to see him without me? What if I never see him again? They knocked on my door to ask if I wanted to try some popcorn from Chicago. This is where my anxiety takes me.
Anxiety is a bitch. It has disturbed my sleep, it keeps me in a state of perpetual fear, and in many ways, it prevents me from enjoying life. When I lived in Mexico City, I had visions of dying in an earthquake every day. When I’m walking on the streets of New York, I worry about dying via an AC falling out of a window. Every time I experience bodily pain, I’m convinced I’m sick and dying. Basically, I am convinced I am always about to die. You would think as a frequent flyer I’d always be afraid of potentially crashing in an airplane, but my anxiety comes into full force when I’m getting to the gate and on the plane. I can leave three hours early for a domestic flight, but if I miss a train or there’s traffic while I’m in a cab, I panic. It’s extremely uncomfortable and I hate feeling so out of control.
Back in January, I was laid off from BuzzFeed after six years of working there. Of course I had many different emotions about it, but ultimately I knew that I wasn’t happy at BuzzFeed anymore and I hoped this would be the change I needed. I am very lucky that I have my platforms, and I was able to score some Instagram partnerships and make money. Between that and the severance package, I wasn’t too worried about finances for a bit. And then I went to Portugal for two weeks and everything changed.
I was an absolute mess. I loved Lisbon and Porto so much — they are such beautiful cities, but I think the lay-off was beginning to settle in. The trip also had a rocky start when TAP Portugal charged me $120 to check a carry-on sized bag. I was livid. And then when I arrived in Lisbon, my bag was broken (thank you to Away luggage who sent me a brand new one because they have lifetime guarantee!). It was pretty much Murphy’s Law then on out (when something goes wrong, everything goes wrong). I was sick and had no voice, I missed a train to Sintra one morning, I kept getting job rejection emails — I constantly felt alone and sad. I couldn’t wait to get home.
At the end of my trip, I left three hours early for the airport and got through security pretty quickly. I had two solid hours to hang out, so I bought some gifts and relaxed in the lounge. An hour before my flight I decided to head to the gate, only to realize I hadn’t gone through immigration. My stomach dropped and I was hit with a tsunami of anxiety. As soon as I realized my mistake, I had my first full-on panic attack. My body was numb, I was shaking, my heart was racing, I began to sweat, I was lightheaded, and I sobbed and heaved the entire fucking time. Strangers were staring and asking if I was OK and how they could help. So many people in line were also going to JFK, and they kept reminding me of that, but it didn’t matter. My mind was consumed, and the trigger was pulled. Twenty minutes before takeoff, security finally told JFK flyers to skip the line. I had to bolt it to the gate (running with a bone spur is not fun!) and I just made it. Basically, the experience was traumatizing, and the thought of doing any more international travel while unemployed was debilitating.
I bought my plane tickets to Bali back in August. I saw a flight deal from Flyglitch (an email subscription service that alerts you to cheap and glitch airfares — use code ARIELLE for $5 off) for less than $600 roundtrip, and after having such a successful solo trip to Hawaii, this seemed like a no-brainer. Bali had always felt so far away, and a month out, I hadn’t planned ANYTHING nor booked any hotels. And I think part of the reason why is because I was really trying to get out of it. I even went to the doctor’s office and asked her to write me a note so I could give it to the airline in hopes of a refund. After the whole Portugal episode, a 26-hour travel day and a week away across the world, alone and 12 hours ahead of everyone back home, felt daunting. I’m in a Facebook group called Girls Love Travel, and I wrote a post asking ladies about their experiences with anxiety and travel and their thoughts on if I should skip Bali or power through. An overwhelming amount said to go, because if I need to relax and find some peace, Bali is the place to do it. There was one comment that said I need to make a decision and then fully stand by it. Accept whatever roadblocks might come but be confident in the choice I make.
And so, I went to Bali. And it was the best damn solo trip of my life. Anxiety has robbed me of some amazing opportunities, but not this one. It wasn’t perfect and I still had moments of doubt, but nothing that could ruin my trip. I’m still unemployed. I’m still worried about natural disasters. And I still have fear when I have body pain. But sometimes you have to tell your anxiety to fuck off, and that’s what I did.
Safe travels,
Arielle