Travelling with Anxiety

Travelling with anxiety is difficult no matter how well you think you are prepared for it. The game changes depending on where you are, what you are doing, and who you are with. My normal anxiety gets much more intense when I travel, partly due to the fact that I am physically in a different place. In fact my anxiety gets so bad when I do travel that I have truly begun to hate travelling all together.

Recently I went on two very different trips. The first one was Sweetwater 420 Fest with two of my close friends. The second trip was to visit my in-laws for a quasi family reunion.

The Music Festival

Sweetwater 420 Fest is a 3-day festival at Centennial Park in Atlanta, Georgia. We flew in on Thursday night. The festival was Friday through Sunday, and then we came home Monday afternoon. Flying doesn’t really bother me anymore. (I used to have to take Valium to get on an airplane.) I just pop my headphones in, listen to my headphones, and eat my complementary Cheez-Its.

Thursday was okay. I had my usual amount of anxiety, nothing I couldn’t handle with my usual methods. We met up with some friends, found an adult arcade, and hung out around the pool area.

Friday morning I woke up, had some coffee, and went down to the hotel gym to go for a run. (My favorite way to relieve my anxiety is through physical activity.) We walked from our hotel over to the park to meet up with some of our friends and to check out the lineup of music for the day. A little anxiety, nothing too major today.

When we sat down to eat dinner at Waffle House (We did it last year, and we had to keep that going.), my mouth completely dried up. I couldn’t eat. Every bite of food made me gag. I excused myself from the table and went outside to call my husband Ben. Hearing his voice calmed me down a little bit, so I went back inside and got a few bites of food in me. I knew I needed to eat something, but the nauseous feeling in my stomach lingered.

The second day I woke up and my body was shaking. The anxiety was here, and it was stronger than ever. I pushed through it for most of the day, but by about dinner time I just couldn’t find the strength inside of me to push any further. I went back to our hotel room, poured myself a big glass of wine, and called my husband.

I cried to him for over an hour. I didn’t want to be there anymore, and I didn’t want to be away from him anymore. I needed his support. He reminded me to go back to my journal. (I never leave home without one!) Duh! Why didn’t I think of that?

As I journaled I could hear Widespread Panic playing at the festival from my hotel room. I cried some more. I wrote in my journal. I made a post on Facebook, and I had a few friends reach out to me to tell me that they feel that way sometimes too, especially in large crowds. Sunday I powered through again.

By now you may be wondering why in the hell I travel at all. I will tell you that I did have a good time. I was able to see a bunch of awesome music that I probably would have never gone out to see on my own. There were moments of serenity where the dancing was flowing freely and my anxiety waned. There were moments of laughter and joy, and some amazing times with friends.

The Mushroom Mountain

The second trip I went on was literally two days after I flew back from Georgia (which I don’t recommend planning if anxiety is your game). I basically dumped my suitcase into my laundry hamper, and put clean clothes back in there. On Thursday Ben and I were in the car taking turns playing podcasts, and we were on our way to his childhood home, an old pony stable that sits on the side of a mountain. We call it The Barn.

Ben’s two uncles were also visiting at the same time, creating a makeshift family reunion. Thursday night was pretty chill. We just sort of sat around and talked, catching up on what has been going on since the last time we all got together (Christmas).

Ben and I were there for a specific purpose, which is what required us to plan both trips so close together in the first place. We were there to forage for morels, which only happens in this part of April. The only day we could do it was on Friday, and it was supposed to rain. Ben, being the kind of person who prefers to just look at radar maps than listen to what the weather people say, found us the most perfect two-hour window for our hunt.

We quietly and methodically searched around in the forest and found 27 mushrooms (Our best haul to date!) We watched the creek flow around the bend, and we listened to the beautiful sounds of nature. All of a sudden the sky went completely black, and the hunt was over.

That night we had a wonderful dinner at our favorite local restaurant, and we sat around playing music (the uncles, not me) and chatted (me). The anxiety slowly started creeping back in. This round wasn’t anywhere near to crying to my husband, probably due to the fact that he was physically there. I was also still exhausted from the previous trip.

Saturday we drove out to Floyd County to watch my father-in-law’s band play at the Floyd Country Store. Opening for him was one of the uncles. We met up with bunch of friends and had lunch. We walked over to a restaurant down the street to have a drink after the show before we drove back to The Barn. The anxiety was kicking again.

Sunday we drove back home, and I was ready. I was ready to be back in my own house, with my cats, and all of my own stuff. It’s comforting, and by this point I was just so tired of being social. I needed to rest.

The Lessons Learned

I learned a few things about myself with these two very different experiences. First, I need my own space. I need to be able to go somewhere, away from everyone else, and just be with my own thoughts. Secondly, I need to take some of my home with me. I brought my entire anti-anxiety arsenal (Read more about that on this post.), and I hardly used any of it.

Instead of pushing so hard, I should have made more space for my morning routine of journaling and movement. Why didn’t I do that? My answer: fear of judgment. It’s something that I am currently working on with my therapist. I really do struggle with this.

Why am I so worried about what others think? Is everyone else worried about this too? So then if we are all worried about the same thing, wouldn’t it be nice we could all in unison take a deep breath and stop worrying about each other so much? It just seems like a waste of time and energy.

XOXO – Jenna

I hope you enjoy my new Spotify playlist, 420 Fest Faves.