I was supposed to arrive in London this morning. As I’m writing this, the flight I’d booked arrived almost seven hours ago. Right now, I’d probably be at a friend’s house in Cambridge having tea or cocktails as I have a day of rest after flying.
On top of that, I was going to have a layover in Reykjavik, Iceland, a destination on my bucket list. Granted, I would only have been there for an hour-and-a-half at four a.m. local time, so I wouldn’t have left the airport. So close, yet so far.
As a random bonus, my best guy friend had also happened to book a flight to England, and was due to arrive AT THE SAME TIME, though in a different part of the country.I’ve been learning slowly over the last couple years (since BEFORE I started this blog, actually,) that travelling is not my thing. I’d already learned that I enjoy the destinations and not the travelling itself, and that more than a couple hours in the car at a time makes me sick. However, last month finally pushed me over the edge to get me to realise that I can’t travel alone or in charge. I had several panic attacks (and different types of panic attacks) just during my little jaunt to visit my parents and go to the Renaissance Festival — two places I LOVE being. Not only was I also panicking over my holiday to England, but a couple things transpired that made everything worse and made me wish that Hubby had joined me immediately instead of a week later. He’s so much better at dealing with certain things than I am.
I think I’ve finally fully learned a couple lessons, one of them being that I SUCK at leading. I can’t even lead myself. I mean specifically like planning events and executing them, and taking care of necessary things that have no single guaranteed outcome. Last month’s trip helped me realise this in major ways: when I was a kid, anything and everything happened because my parents executed them. I almost always made friends through my brother. My dad took me to the car auction where I bought my first vehicle, and he went to the junk yard while I was at work to buy the parts I needed (mirror, etc.). Now, Hubby is my connection to things happening. Even the first time I moved out of my parents’ house my roommate was the one in charge of communicating with the apartment office and dealing with anything wrong with the bills. For the short time I lived without my parents and I was the main one in charge of things, not a whole lot went wrong (until the end, but we won’t get into that), and I had just started dating Hubby when I arrived in that place (and he and his mother helped me out a lot).I don’t doubt that there’s some degree of this that I can actually learn and acquire some skill in, but I also know that I’m not at all built to be even a small-scale event planner. The most I can really do is plan my day. (“I think I’ll read at a coffeeshop tomorrow and get a cookie.” 😏) I did plan and execute the entire trip sis and I took to Chicago last year to see Perfume, our favourite J-pop group, and while I had a lot of fun, I will never do that again.
I had a dream last night that I was in England, exploring with the friend I would be staying with, thinking of course it is! when it started raining, and I happened to run into my guy friend. I woke up to social media posts from my guy friend, our mutual friend he’s staying with, and the friend I would be staying with going about her day exploring and shopping. I may be bummed and crying about the fact that I’m not in England right now, but I also know that my stress level would be through the roof if I were. I know that if any international, uncertain, and other real travel is to happen, it will always be better if someone, especially Hubby, is in charge of it. I’d rather go to England and properly enjoy myself, though most likely still miss being home, than be freaked out af and think Never again.