How is it possible to love traveling and have a crippling phobia of planes? I wanted to talk about my fear of flying that has developed in the last couple of years and how it has impacted my photography and life. When I tell people what my photography is about, one of the most frequent comments I hear is that I must have no fear. But this couldn't be further from the truth, and whenever I tell people I'm afraid of flying, they always laugh.
Thankfully, I wasn’t always this way. I’ve grown up in a family of pilots and people with a passion for flying, space, and exploration. I used to have a deep love of flying, and before I was able to really travel, I would always be so jealous of the people going somewhere in the planes I saw above me. I remember flying and closing my eyes during takeoff, trying to guess when I lifted off the ground, and thinking to myself, “How could anyone be scared of this?” I now know how anyone can be scared of this!
A little background in how it all began, as most people like to know the why…
My flights to and from Baghdad in 2020 were two of the worst I've ever had. When I was waiting for the plane to Baghdad, I was seated next to a very heavy man who had a plastic bag for his luggage and his shoes off. I was unable to text anyone that I was about to board because my internet couldn't get connected to this terminal. He said I could use his hotspot to send texts. We then got to talking about what I was doing and his family. He enjoyed talking, and I sat there listening in part. He carried on speaking as we boarded. I was exhausted, and already anxious about leaving, and the budget airline didn't take off until 1:00. I was seated between two sweet old Iraqi men. It was a very quiet flight because almost everyone slept. In the middle of the flight, the man I was talking to earlier jumps up and starts shouting and walking towards me.
“You need to fly home as soon as you land!”
“The security forces will kill you and hang your body in Tahrir Square as a symbol to other foreign journalists!”
“Trust no one!”
He continued. The old man’s eyes widened and looked at me in confusion, he makes the universal motion of “Do you know this guy?” with his gestures and facial expressions. I shake my head no. The guy stops shouting and goes to the back of the plane. I sit there now filled with more anxiety than I had before. Obviously, I should never listen to a complete stranger, but should I this time? I calm myself down and get up from my chair to use the bathroom. I’m about to unlock the door when I hear someone collapse outside of it. In addition to rolling from side to side and slamming into the bathroom door, he is gasping for air. He is telling people he can’t breathe. I recognize the voice and it's the man, of course. I think about him talking about his asthma and his refusal to take medication for it. The moment I try to open the door, his body weight slams it shut. The pilot asks if there are any doctors on board, and I overhear all the air hostesses gathering and discussing what to do. Making an emergency landing is mentioned. He is sounding like he is suffocating and his breathing is getting worse. My knees are pressed up against my chest. I crouched on the tiny bathroom floor and placed one ear next to the tiny vent next to his head. "I'm going to hear him die," I tell myself and I have to stay in the restroom while we make an emergency landing because nobody knows I'm in here. He finally stabilized after about thirty minutes and was breathing normally, but he is still lying on the ground in front of the door. I again try knocking several times to let someone know I’m in there. He finally moves a bit for me to open the door and he starts talking again. He reiterates how I will be murdered, that he won’t let me go anywhere in Baghdad without him, and that I need to contact the embassy and try to go home as soon as possible. The conversation ends. We arrive as usual. we are awaiting our luggage. He makes an effort to persuade me that taking the car with him to meet my fixer is safer than taking the bus. I say no and he leaves. I never again hear from him.
Two weeks later, I am on a flight headed back home. once more at 1:00 in the morning. Fortunately, there were no crazy men yelling at me on board. I notice the plane is very jerky as we take off. "It feels like it will break in half," I think to myself. I brush it off and go to sleep. The plane's wheels hover over the runway as we prepare to land, but to my surprise, it immediately pulls straight up. Never before have I experienced such a steep incline. There is no announcement and I start panicking. The pilot reports that they were not given permission to land about 20 minutes later. Would've been nice to know sooner... We land. Exactly one week later, that same flight makes headlines for breaking in half when it landed. In my mind, I thought, that one irrational thought I had during my flight came true. Therefore, all of my irrational thoughts while flying have a chance of coming true. And it’s been all downhill from there.
I wasn’t even aware that this phobia had manifested until my next flight 6 months later to Amsterdam. I was anxious the entire time and flying back, it had gotten so bad the person next to me had to hold my hand when we were descending. Luckily he was a pilot so he explained a lot of what was happening.
I made the decision to start therapy as soon as I realized I had this fear. Even though I've been receiving therapy for three years, nothing has changed. I wanted to talk about this because I know how many people it impacts and it all affects us differently.
Most people are quick to respond with information about how much safer planes are than cars or that you're more likely to be struck by lightning than in a plane crash when I express my fear, but this never helps. Even a remote possibility is a possibility when you're feeling anxious.
I did want to share what has helped me, even if it was a small amount, over the years.
Acknowledging that you will be anxious. A lot of anxiety is centered around the anticipated anxiety. Or most people try to prevent it. Once I accepted that I will inevitably be anxious, I could then learn to cope with it.
The first thing I do on every flight is to let the flight attendants know. Every flight attendant has been extremely calming, explaining things to me, giving me a little extra wine, or checking on me periodically throughout the flight.
One of my fears was that my crying, etc., would disturb other passengers, and that created more anxiety. I’ve learned that almost everyone around me is very sweet when I’m visibly anxious. Sometimes I say it to the person I’m sitting next to so they know not to panic with me! Most people have kept me occupied during take-off and landing or grandma/mothers have held my hand.
During take-off and landing, I had to learn how to control my breathing. My therapist shared that anxious breathing comes from the chest, and controlled breathing comes from the stomach.
Paired with controlled breathing, I try to do an activity that can ground me. Sometimes I will touch each of my fingertips to my thumb repeatedly, to keep me from falling into the space where I can’t differentiate between anxiety and reality.
If there is wifi on the plane, I will connect and text for support from people who are aware that I am flying.
Sometimes I’ll bring my favorite candy on board as a little reward for getting over the hardest parts.
This one is unfortunately not very fun to think about. But I’ve had to do a deep dive into my ideas around what happens after death and also coming to terms with death. Because ultimately, that is what I fear.
I’ve thought about getting a fidget spinner or one of those pop-it toys to help.
On short flights I even tried doing French quizzes, I find that if I watch a movie or show I just ignore it and my anxiety takes over. If I have something I physically have to pay attention to and choose the right answer, it can help.
This is the most important: having a phobia or fear is a valid experience. You never have to feel guilty or bad about it. I often feel so silly about mine because I know what it is to love flying. I’ve had to let those insecurities go because I’m doing the best I can (and so are you!)
Perhaps these tips can help with anyone’s phobias, I’m not sure. What happens after death for you? Comment if you feel like sharing, I’m looking for ideas.