Trifter

On my eighteenth birthday I decided I was going to permanently place a dove onto my right shoulder. I wanted this to serve as a reminder of not only the inner peace that I strive for, but also (as corny as it sounds) my ability to fly. I felt tied down by those around me. I was ready to make my own mistakes and learn from them. I have since grown in various ways. I expanded my horizon and grew less afraid of the world. I started to go out more; I met new people and attended parties. I did what I thought was necessary in order to spread my wings.

However, when it comes down to its literal meaning, I am terrified to fly. The very thought of taking off in an airplane that rises millions of miles off the ground makes me panic. It could crash at anytime. Even if it didn’t, there is still that uncomfortable turbulence that makes me feel ill. Once the plane lifts off of the sweet earth, I am stuck for hours; unable to escape what seems to be my very own personal hell. That is unless I become completely mad and decide to jump off of the plane. I suppose I could distract myself by making puppets out of those paper bags that are religiously placed in every seat before each flight. On the other hand, even if this were to work it would be just my luck to be placed in between two oversized, drooling and talkative people. The point is this: flying is not my thing.

Unfortunately, I am going to have to get over this factor and board an airplane in less than two weeks. My pop-pop just recently passed away and I swore to myself that I would visit my grandmother in New Mexico during the summer. I used to love flying when I was a child but as I grew, new fears did as well and eventually took control. Lately I’ve been angry with myself. I wish that I had forced myself to get on this plane earlier. I wish that I had been out to see him more often, but I can’t change this. These fears have kept me in one place, making it almost impossible to get to where I need to be. It occurs to me that perhaps my fear of flying may represent a pretty crazy metaphorical concept.

While I have grown tremendously by living away from home, I’ve discovered a feeling of stagnation as well. Going to parties is a great way to have fun and meet people, but after a few weeks of this it’s pretty redundant. At least where I’m from, it usually goes like this: You put on your make-up; you fix your hair, and you get dressed so that you feel good about yourself. Then you enter the party (or gathering, or get together or random group of people) and it goes like this: You begin to drink, you socialize with your group of friends, you continue to drink, you socialize with the guy you thought was kind of odd at the beginning of the night, you take some shots, you table dance, you stop remembering. You suddenly wake up and become a little bit angry. Why are you here? Did someone kidnap you? You start to look for your clothes. Then it starts to come back to you and you feel a little bit ashamed. You finally make it back to your room and right before you start the water for your shower you look in the mirror. Your hair is a mess, your make-up is all over your face, and you aren’t even in the clothes you originally had on because you couldn’t find them. You don’t feel good about yourself right now. You start to wonder why you even got dressed in the first place.

This, however, is not the attitude to have. As hard as it may be (and trust me I know) you must learn that mistakes, as awful as they may be, will happen. You must learn from these mistakes and continue to get dressed in a way that makes you feel good about yourself. After making such mistakes, a person may stop him or herself from doing something in order to prevent another “crash”. Many people are so afraid to make a mistake, or in my case die on a plane, that they end up in one place unable to move about. I am hoping that eventually I will be able to not only take chances, but also learn from wrong choices. I wish to learn enough to enhance my mind while still remaining a tiny bit ignorant. I want to continue to have choices to make, rules to break, and mistakes to learn from. I am not looking forward to this flight but I find a great amount of comfort knowing that, as I am drugged up on Xanax a billion million miles up high I am one step close to being where I need to be…wherever that is.