Intrusive Thoughts Won't Stop Me From Getting To Spain
Days before flying my intrusive thoughts get exceptionally loud, every word I read or number I see suddenly becomes "a sign". Last week I was preparing for a trip to Spain, and found myself dreading the upcoming flight, as usual. I went to the thrift store to distract myself the night before when a book titled "How To Survive a Disaster" caught my eye, my brain took that and clung onto it.
"It's a sign, something bad is gonna happen".
Then I was scrolling on IG reels moments before getting on the flight and I saw the word "plane-crash", another "sign". I looked at my phone earlier that day, the time was 9:11, the lights flickered in the bathroom when I was taking a shower...the list goes on and on. Never are my intrusive thoughts more apparent than when I know I will have to fly.
Suddenly I am overcome with debilitating dread and fear of mortality. We all know that planes are the safest form of travel, that turbulence is nothing to worry about, hell I research the make and model of the plane I'm taking before I even get on it. I have all the information out in front of me, not to mention I've flown before with no issue, no emergency, no danger...yet I am always battling with these thoughts.
My therapist told me to name this nagging voice, so I named him "Hugh" in reference to Hugh Grant (after I found out the way he treated Julia Roberts on the set of Notting Hill he has been public enemy number #1.) When I find myself obsessing over a word, a number, an off-handed remark someone said, I tell myself "its not you, its Hugh".
Of course, no amount of calling out Hugh's compulsions makes the anxiety go away. I almost didn't get on the flight, I cried the whole way to the airport, I could barely eat anything, and I convinced myself that all these "signs" I saw were "my intuition". Bullsh*t.
Why does my anxiety want me to suffer? To miss out on beautiful experiences? It almost feels like self sabotage. I KNOW I'm being irrational when I sob and every part of my body is telling me "cancel the trip, stay home, curl up with your cat". Nothing brings me more comfort than doing that, and I have done it before. Hell one time I even made it through TSA before turning my ass around and going home. It feels good for a second, the wave of relief, but then the shame comes...the realization that you've let the anxiety win, Hugh has won (that bastard).
It is ALWAYS uncomfortable and Hugh often remarks that it just isn't worth it. But it quite literally is ALWAYS worth it. Do I wish I could just snap my fingers and arrive at my destination? Yes, but I can't. And I have to find comfort IN the uncomfortable. It is a hard pill to swallow that the more you run from your anxiety the more evil it becomes. So I vow to not let Hugh win again, for the chocolate con churros in Madrid were simply too good to miss.
I share this in the hopes that those of you on here who find the obsessive thoughts all-consuming will find this helpful. It seems silly and trivial but giving a name to the voice helps me to recognize it as separate from myself and my intuition/ wants/ desires, etc.