I flew home to Charleston today, and as soon as the plane is about to take off, the lady next to me begins to cry. Immediately I panic, my first instinct is to lean over and ask, 'What's wrong, just tell me that you had a vision of the plane crashing... just tell me and and I'll jump out of my seat immediately and alert all concerned parties, so pretty much everyone on this death mobile' But no, instead I sat there in a silent panic and prayed to God to deliver us safely. Which he did.

Once the flight (doomed for disaster) safely pulled into its gate at the end of this epic emotional adventure (experienced singularly by yours truly) I began to wonder, is everyone as crazy as I am when they fly? Why does my mind go to these places? Do I need medication or is this something I can conquer with the power of my own mind? 

I could not help but think back to the 'minor' episode I experienced a few weeks back at the ER. For those of you who follow me, you know what I'm talking about. If not, lets just say that a severe case of hypochondria resulted with a lung clot, a steadily building heart attack (ya ya, I'm well aware there's no such thing, try telling that to my head) and a $500 trip to the ER to certify that I am in fact, a completely healthy 21 year old woman. Yup, another case of mental antics that seem to get me into the most precarious situations.

So here I am at the airport, alive and well, still breathing, heart still beating, one month after these seemingly 'harmless' physical ailments started. But tell me, is anxiety that continuously pits your brain against your body in a fight for life (or predicted death sentence) really harmless? I think not. 

Thats when the revelation that had been slowly building in the back of my mind for the last week or so, finally solidified. I am not afraid anymore. I cannot let this fear of death around every corner take my life and take my joy. I had a dream last night that I was bitten by a butterfly and I tried to kill it. A very wise friend told me that perhaps this is symbolic of a fear of change that I've been experiencing. Fear of death, after all, is fear of the ultimate change. The change of this life to the next. So I am casting my fear to the wind, I'm giving it to God, and I'm saying good riddance. I refuse to be afraid anymore, it's debilitating and despairing, and I'll have none of it.