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Hello Sternal Journalists!
In an act both courageous and silly that it is courageous, I am writing this Sternal Journal (a draft, at least) on a plane. I am on a short flight in a smallish plane en route to an East Coast stopover on my way back to LA from Fringe (LA, I am very sorry that I skipped the hurriquake).
Anyway, if you know me or my killer bit “I don’t like flying with youth soccer teams,” you may know that I have OCD and that one of the main activations for my OCD spirals is air travel.
This is such a thing in my life to the degree that, a few months ago, a good friend flew in to a wedding in Santa Fe a few hours before me, and Santa Fe being a windy-ass place, the descent to the airport there is a famously bumpy one.
Said friend, upon experiencing said bumps, had a full conversation with his wife about whether the right thing to make my life easier would be to warn me about the bumps ahead of time so I could anticipate them and know everything was normal…
Or alternatively shut his damn mouth because I would be convinced of impending doom upon experiencing the bumps no matter what, but if I knew they were coming, I’d be convinced of impending doom for the hours leading up to them as well.
He chose not to. I experienced the bumps. They were not only bumpy, but bumpy while making a turn, a move that I am always sure will immediately cause the plane to go upside down like in the Denzel Washington movie, Cocaine Pilot (citations required).
This experience made me think two things:
It is incredible to have concerning, loving friends, even if it gives your OCD an Xzibit Pimp My Ride level of extrapolation: “We heard you have flight anxiety, so we built a flight anxiety about your flight anxiety! We also added a thick purple fur to the interior and exterior, don’t drive in the rain.”
Wait a second, I don’t think I’ve made clear that my flying anxiety is not as crippling as it used to be.
Even typing that on a plane makes me want to vomit because the irrational fear part of me still thinks “that’s when they get ya!” But I think, especially as a comedian who makes attempts regularly to subvert and mine the hard or annoying parts of life, it’s important to un-bias the narrative of how I am and what I’m thinking about.
But yeah, ever since I got prescribed what I’m told by doctor friends is almost certainly a placebo effect amount of Ativan, my fear of flying has really gone down.
Though even above, by saying “not as crippling as it used to be,” I softened it a bit. I’ve taken two flights in the past 24 hours (one of which I am currently on), and I was relatively speaking, not scared or worried even for a second, let alone crippled by the anxiety. I got tense during some turbulence moments, but it’s nothing compared to what it used to be.
I’m no longer walking down the jetway questioning why I would march straight to my death.
I’m no longer hyperventilating during turbulence and then hyperventilating when the turbulence stops because “this plane sounds too quiet! The ride is unnaturally smooth! Something broke during the turbulence!”
I’m no longer convinced that I know a single thing about the physics of air travel or aeronautic wobbliness (makes sense as I have never looked up or been told a single thing about it).
And that’s great! HOWEVER, this is about conquering an OCD fear, and the flip side is that, as l’ve been clear, it is scary to even say you feel like you’ve gotten over the fear because, irrationally, you’re sure the fear, or its mechanics, or perpetrators were waiting until that moment to pounce.
I also know that these things happen in waves and that it’s entirely likely that I will one day be crippled again by this fear, but that I should enjoy and do my best to nurture the peace I’m experiencing while I have it.
And so, I wrote this on a plane actively in the air1 not as an attempt to teabag my fears and tell them, “Huzzah! You’ve been bested!” (I do hope that someone in history has said “huzzah” whilst teabagging though), but because doing the things that seem scary but only irrationally so are the best way to feel a little less scared next time.
Huzzah!
Recommendations!
Cut Off Both My Hands. Song. The biggest worry I had this year going into Fringe was that my tech person would not pass the vibe check, as when you’re a one-person operation putting on a show ten nights in a row, the only other person who has to experience every second of it with you is that person. I was blessed Chell, who passed with flying colors and is an amazing artist in their own rite. This song from Chell’s band, Chell and the Vetos (Scottish eclectic emo and garage pop, per the band’s description), is a rager of a bop and perfect for when you need a teacher or boss or friend or partner or other authority figure to get their nose out of your damn business.
Four Thousand Weeks. Book. I’ve recommended this book here before, but I just finished it and thoroughly enjoyed it. I think it’s a little dramatic to say a book is life-changing, but it has caused me to stop and reassess my micro-priorities multiple times a day, in what I think is trending towards healthy.
Martin Urbano’s Comeback Apology Tour. Comedy Show. I saw this on my last night in Edinburgh. It has since won the Edinburgh Comedy Award for best newcomer (I think—something like that). Martin is NYC-based and I could see this being a toured show and/or special on some platform, so look out for it. I laughed a lot and hard.
Small Books. Things. I went to a bookstore this week and really wanted to buy something, but knew that I didn’t have any room in my luggage let alone to carry it around for the rest of the day. So I was looking exclusively for books that could fit in my pocket. This goes against judging a book by (the size of) its cover, but is I think pro-book, pro-reading, and pro-adventurous choices, so I am recommending it.
Alrighty, that’s all for the week! Do scary things and huzzah again!
Julian
P.S. unrelated but fun:
Mostly, though I did get interrupted by the plane landing and have to finish and publish on the ground!