I used to hate and fear flying. I used to be nervous, scared, and fifty shades of pale anytime I boarded a plane.
Today, I absolutely love flying. So much I am planning to get a pilot license.
Planes fly high (duh), and you have zero control over how it all goes. Having huge fear of heights and an even bigger need to control, I had the ideal combo for using the bus with wings.
Flying was something I had to survive to get to the good part of the adventure.
Fast forward to 2018, I'm sitting in a plane from Portugal, nervous, scared, with shallow breath, my sunburned face pale white like one of those creepy ceramic dolls, and my palms sweating their shape into my jeans.
We start the descend near Vienna, and then we hit a huge storm.
Full jackpot, with heavy rain, no visibility, lightning, and huge ass turbulence. And it was in the night.
I was scared shitless.
And then, all that chaos in my head got pushed out by a single question "If I die right now, will I die happy that I lived the way I lived?"
Without any hesitation, I immediately answered Yes.
It hit me harder than any turbulence could. I was in a dark part of my life. Burned out, depressed, fat, unhealthy, broke, and more. And yet, I answered a certain Yes, without any thinking.
It's hard to explain how something like this feels when you're depressed.
I started crying and didn't even notice we touched the ground.
Now any plane I board, this question is right there with me and my backpack.
Flying lost some of its magic as I overcame my fear of heights and stopped being a control freak.
With each flight, it's less and less emotional, less and less potent. But it's still an extremely valuable exercise of gratitude and clarity.
Next time you're boarding a plane, consider being a drama queen for a second and think about what if it's your last plane ride.
You might find some clarity, gratitude, and maybe some motivations for tough decisions.