Over the past couple of years, I’ve really become terrified of the thought of flying. I’ve never been super happy about it – I have a fear of heights, and therefore flying just feels slightly wrong in my mind.
I can’t exactly pinpoint when that shifted though. I did have a miserable flight once from Copenhagen to Amsterdam, but blamed it on low blood sugar. However, after that, I ended up taking the train home a couple of times – and the other times when I did fly, it almost seemed like there was a major flight accident just before or after my flight somewhere else in the world.
I do fly, and once I’m up in the air, it is usually okay (save for turbulence). But it is really the anticipation of it all, and taking off that gets to me.
Urgh…
