Tahoe

Ruts are easy to get stuck in.  You're not happy with your life, but somehow unable to change it.  So you dig yourself a nice, safe little rut. Every day is the same as the day before, which will be the same as the day after.  It's easy and it's safe.  Secure.  So that's where you stay.  In an effort to hoist myself out of my rut, I started seeing a therapist.  She suggested I start to travel, in an effort to broaden my horizons.  I needed to learn that the world was a big place.  There is lots to see and do.  And, in order to see it, I had to get out of my comfort zone and expand my thinking.   So I decided to give it a whirl and my first trip was to be Lake Tahoe.  I'd seen pictures and it looked beautiful.

I live in southern Illinois, which is flat flat flat.  Tahoe is in the mountains, which are not flat.  I knew I'd need to get in shape before we left or I'd never make it, as we are not mountain people.  We're not used to it.  So my mom and I started hiking at a local park.  Local being thirty miles away.  Whatevs.  It's hilly, by our standards, and it was the closest thing we could find to a mountain.  So we started hiking.  We hiked and hiked up and down these hills to try to get in shape.  And we did.   We were so proud.  We kicked hill ass.  We were stronger, faster. 

I had never flown before Tahoe.  I'd heard stories about airplanes and terrifying stories about airplane seats.  They're tiny. Tiny tiny tiny.  I was beyond worried about the airplane.  I am, above all other things, a worrier.  I was terrified.  In an effort to assuage my worry, I decided it would be prudent to get the deets on airplanes.  So I googled airplanes.  (I am an excellent Googler.  If it's out there, I can find it).  From my plane ticket, I googled the actual plane in which we would be flying.  I found the dimensions, inside and out, of that plane.  I found the dimensions of the aisle, seat width, depth, leg room, all of it.  ( I would be willing to bet money I'm on some sort of terrorist watch list from all the airplane googles ). 

Airplane seats are, roughly, sixteen inches wide.  Sixteen.  I nearly threw up.  But it can't be that bad, I thought.  So I found a yard stick, put it across my chair and sat down.  My butt is wider than sixteen inches.  By a good margin.  And that is when the panic truly set it.  And it was a panic.  I honestly thought I wouldn't be able to fit in the seat.  I'd sit down and just sit across the top of the seat and not actually sit in it.  I had visions that I would be jettisoned off the plane from 30,000 feet because the plane was overweight.  That was a stretch, even I knew that.  But I really did think I would be singled out, in front of a plane full of passengers.  They would, sickeningly politely, of course, ask me to deplane because their stupidly tiny seats could not accommodate me. 

I was terrified.  Absolutely terrified.  The day before we left, we were going to give it one last good hike.  The whole hike, as hard as we could go, so we'd feel confident when we landed in Tahoe.  I made it fifty feet into the woods.  That's it.  No lie.  I ran out of gas in fifty feet and had to turn around and go back.  I couldn't do it.

But we pressed on.  I made myself get on the plane, and miracle of all miracles, no one singled me out.  I fit in the seat.  I wasn't jettisoned at 30,000 feet.  I was just like everyone else.  Boring, really.

We land in Reno and my mom drives and I navigate (she can't navigate worth a crap).  I remember driving through Reno and pulling up to the road that takes you to Lake Tahoe.  And that's it.  I remember nothing else.  My mind had, I guess, completely checked out.  I don't remember the drive, the hotel, nothing.  Mom said I was repeating myself the whole trip.  I was pointing out things several times.  If I saw something I thought was funny I'd point it out, more than once, as if I'd never seen it before.  We have pictures.  It's like I'm looking at someone else's vacation.  I have pictures of restaurants in which we dined.  Restaurants I would swear under oath I've never seen before.  She showed me a picture at a restaurant and couldn't believe that I couldn't remember it.  Apparently a lady came up to me and told me I had pretty hair.  Maybe she did.  I don't know.  I don't remember.  And that is a terrible feeling. 

The stress was so overwhelming I just shut down.  I was awake, talking, apparently enjoying my vacation.  But I don't remember it.  I have no recollection of Lake Tahoe.  Thankfully it's only happened the one time.  After that, while still unhappy with the absurdly undersized airplane seats, I know that I'll get on the plane and fly just like everyone else.  Travel is stressful, for anyone, but I was well past my capacity.  Bodies and minds are fascinating.  I physically and mentally shut down in an effort to protect myself.  I learned a lot that trip.  Not during the trip itself, but in the lead up and aftermath.  Nothing that I had made myself sick over actually happened.  None of it.  And I had ruined my first vacation.  A little stress can be okay.  Everyone has stress, but I let it take over.  And nothing good came of it.

Pretty accurate, I'd say