Courage, my love (on bravery and growing up)

I’m writing this to you from gate F99 at Pearson airport. I’m two hours early for my flight (natch), and I feel like I’m in free fall. That’s probably the adrenaline wearing off from the stress that naturally builds up in my body starting 48 hours before a trip.

It’s not the flying itself that bothers me – I relish the opportunity to make a dent in my podcast/audiobook queue – it’s literally just the hassle of getting through security and customs.

I’ve had my fair share of negative experiences with power-tripping personnel in airports. I’ve had security guards rifle through my undies in my carry-on, I’ve had customs agents interrogate me about what ingredients were on my sandwich and threaten fines (I refuse to travel with snacks of any kind anymore), I’ve even been stopped on the way OUT of the baggage pick-up area and questioned about my intentions (arriving home, aghh!).

It’s more annoying than harmful, but I’ve let these experiences build into almost uncontrollable anxiety around travel.

I was recently talking to my loved ones about how much more capable I felt when I was younger.

When I was in my early 20’s I packed all my favourite belongings in a suitcase and purposely booked a flight to Nice with a 9-hour connection in London. At Heathrow, I found a luggage locker to store my suitcase before navigating into the city center on the tube to meet my cousin for a day of shopping and sightseeing, and then jetted back to the airport to fly to Nice! I should also mention that I arrived at the Nice airport and had to find my landlord, who had generously offered to pick me up – only I hadn’t seen a picture of him before, and he didn’t speak a word of English. Did I mention it was my first time leaving home to live abroad?

I marvel at the woman I was then. What happened to her? Re-reading the above paragraph fills me with awe because I just don’t think I could do something like that now...the stress alone would send me into migraine city.

This is something I’ve tried to explore in therapy, and I’m just not satisfied with the discussion. My therapist reminds me that I had way fewer responsibilities at that age (in fact, none), and this is just part of adulting.

Is it, though? Is this increasing anxiety a common experience? I look at my wonderful, brave, incredible friends and can’t image this is the case.

But I’m so curious to know: do you feel like you were braver when you were younger? Has your anxiety increased with age? I never even considered myself an anxious person until I entered the corporate world (maybe there’s a correlation here I need to dig into).