I did something very brave.

Hello all!

Long time so speak, haven’t actually been doing anything so I hope you’re not here for some sort of catch up.

However.

I do have something to share. This week I have done something very brave. I flew.

Before you all look at me in confusion about how that’s ground breaking, well let me tell you about the time I went to Amsterdam. If you go back about 4/5 years in this blog you will see the photos of the tiny houses and the little canals while thinking wow she looks like she’s having the best time ever! Well I’m here to burst that bubble because it was hell. Literally the worst 4 days of my life, and I’ve been through things!

But Brighde, how could this be?!

Because I cannot fly. Well, let’s rephrase, I struggle to come to terms with getting on an aircraft and being in the sky at 500mph. Essentially a tin can flying through the air.

So four years ago when I flew from Newcastle to Amsterdam (which by the way takes LITERALLY 40 mins at most) I cried, was sick, shook, complained, was an actual wreck of monumental standards that when I landed (after 40 mins) all I could think about was the flight home and how I had to endure ALL of it again. From then on, I swore to myself that I would never fly again.

Never ever.

And holding up to my promise, I didn’t. Until Monday 30th April 2018 where I went to Malaga for 5 days. With an entirely new life and determination to be prepared not to have a breakdown, I was ready (ish) to give it another go. I downloaded films, music, practiced my breathing- seemingly all good stuff right? WELL. That went out the bloody window didn’t it. I was doing so well, got on the plane, got in my seat and besides mouthing to Lee across the aisle ‘why the hell am I doing this’ everything was going swimmingly! Cue takeoff, me throwing up into a WH Smith bag literally on top of the lady nexts to me’s lap (she was asleep she knew nothing, shaking like a leaf, breathing in and out, telling every single air hostess that I was scared and even at one point going to find one because I needed some sort of moral support. THEN, becoming infinitely best friends with my pal next to me, Barbara from Stockport (if you’re reading by some miracle I love you), and commenced what I call ‘the pull back’ of me attempting to regain some sanity and become less afraid. I had a water bottle that I shook the entire time and I’m sure that’s why the queue for the toilet was so long.

BUT I MADE IT AND I DID IT! Lee and Barbs gave me a little round of applause as we landed and that was that. UNTIL, the dreaded ‘oh god I have to come home on this giant tin can machine’ thoughts came into my head. I was beginning to spiral, flashes of the best western Amsterdam hotel flashed before my eyes, visions of me crying and throwing up every hour looked over me. This is where I found myself at a bar with a drink that was 50% gin and 50% tonic, Di at the bar JJ’s thanks for saying I looked rough because then I shortly became so drunk I had forgot I was even in Spain.

Flash forward to the way home. Slightly more nervous during the day because the flight was later. I was in fear the people next to me weren’t going to be as nice or understanding to why a 22 year old girl was throwing up in what ever vessel she could find. So, plane goes up, my nerves so go up and it’s been about 10 minutes and I’m chucking up into a delicate sick bag as the people next to me (Elizabeth and Rob this time, Newcastle Under Lyme) were telling me how great I was doing. Thus begins the 2.5 hour trip of me and my friends telling each other our life stories while I attempt to keep my dinner down. There are some real unsung very kind people out there who will be lovely to those who are distressed. Yes I might be brave in some ways but I struggle a lot and having such beautiful people near me who don’t even know me, was heartwarming. I can’t believe I actually flew after saying I never ever would again. Such an achievement.

Also Liz & Rob signed my sick bag. True love.


Happy Blipping.