I've been in Kentucky the past few days. The overwhelming anxiety I felt days before my flight drove my husband crazy. My intermittent sobbing en route to the airport amused him. I've never left my Jack before. And the guilt was noticeable through my ever changing temper from the moment I booked this trip.
And I wonder to myself. How can I do this to my family? How can I leave them for days at a time? How can I focus on writing a paper with Jack pulling at my pant-legs? How could I add this stress to my household when I'm pulling my hair out over a deadline and venting to those closest to me, taking it out on Jack, Jose, Mom?
Then I remind myself. I'm doing this for my family. I'm doing this to show Jack that achieving higher education is possible, regardless of your commitments. I'm demonstrating the importance of dedication and pursuit of more knowledge. I'm learning about healthy living and instilling this information in my children. I'm doing this for them.
As I sat on my sixth and final flight of the week (several cancelations and delays added more flights and tons of stress), I had to resist the urge to tell my neighboring passenger of my fear of flying. The smallest disturbance to the water in my cup on my tray table, due to any minor turbulence, made me want to grip tightly to the nearest knee and bury my forehead in their shoulder. No physics lesson can convince me how a vehicle weighing several tons, carrying six dozen passengers and loads of luggage can float in the air for two hours, defying gravity. But I'm home now. And I'm not leaving my family again without a stubborn-bull-resistance. Not this Taurus.
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