Kat's Rambling Mind

It’s autumn, and Halloween is right around the corner, so it’s the so-called spooky season. While ghosts and goblins don’t really scare me, I’ve recently had the opportunity to do some things that would have flat-out terrified me in the past.

For starters, at the tender age of only sixty years old, I find myself in a relatively new romantic relationship. (Hey, I’m just as surprised as y’all are.) While Nick and I have known each other for several years in an online space, over the last year we began to talk more frequently, and one thing led to another, and then I guess Cupid decided to be a smart ass….and well, here we are.

It’s a long distance relationship, and by long distance, I mean he’s in the Catskills and I’m in Georgia. So, there’s that. Because a relationship at sixty isn’t a big enough challenge, we decided to add about 700-800 miles to the equation. But he visited me in Georgia, and I recently visited him in the Catskills. The distance didn’t seem to matter much once we were together.

However, in order for me to visit him, this meant I had to get on a plane. Now, the flying itself doesn’t really scare me; I’d flown a couple of times before but it was twenty-five years ago, and I wasn’t flying alone. The thought of having to navigate the airport left me feeling a bit paralyzed, though.

At first, my heart sank a little, because I felt like there was no way I could make the trip. I simply couldn’t imagine myself traveling alone. But then I realized that…I’m freakin’ sixty. If not now, when? “People do this every day”, I said to myself, and then I sternly told myself to stop being such a wuss. For the most part, it worked. Nick provided gentle encouragement, but there was no pressure. He gave me room to realize that yeah, I could do this.

I was lucky enough to have my wonderful niece offer to drive me to the airport, and then collect me on the return trip. So I had the luxury of not having to brave Atlanta traffic to get to and from the busiest airport on the planet. I researched videos of Hartsfield Jackson and Newark airports in order to get an idea of the layout of both. I asked Google AI what I would be expected to do once I got in the actual airport. I did my homework, because I was incredibly anxious about the prospect of striking out on an adventure.

Finally, the day came for me to put or shut up, and get on the plane already. My niece picked me up in the middle of the night, because my flight was leaving ridiculously early, and it’s recommended that you get to the airport ridiculously early. We had a great drive to Atlanta, and she dropped me off at security.

I was on my own. My heart fluttered a little, but I set my jaw and kept moving.

I made my way to security, not quite sure what to do once I got there. I spotted an agent at the beginning of the lines and simply told her that this was my first time flying alone, and I was unsure what to do. She was incredibly helpful and told me exactly what was about to happen. I sailed through security like a champ after that. Well, except for almost leaving my ID and credit and debit cards behind at the checkpoint. Fortunately, I quickly realized my mistake and another agent was right there to hand them off to me after I backtracked to the inspection area. “Close call, genius”, I muttered to myself.

From there, I used the airline’s app on my phone to find my terminal and gate, and I followed the signs to where I was supposed to be. After grabbing a coffee from the Starbucks that was across from my gate, I settled in to wait to board.

As I sat there waiting, I reflected on what I’d accomplished so far, and was grateful to be pleasantly surprised that no catastrophes had befallen me as of yet. When it was time, I boarded the plane for an uneventful flight, and knew that my next hurdle would be the airport at Newark, where I was departing.

During the short two-hour flight, I reflected again on what a big step this was for me. After all, it hadn’t been quite ten years since I was living alone, mired down in deep depression and alcoholism. I isolated myself more and more at that time, and I felt I’d never be happy or loved again. My despair was so intense I considered suicide as a way to end the pain. Thankfully, and with the grace of God, I got help and got sober. It had taken me almost a decade to heal and build myself a safe little life in a safe little space. That space did not include a relationship, though. I’d resigned myself to a life of being single.

But I couldn’t deny that I often felt very lonely; I tried to date a little, but the reward simply didn’t seem to be worth the risk. And then, a friendship turned into something more, and suddenly I’m on a plane to New York, which seemed almost surreal to me. I wouldn’t have even entertained the idea of a relationship just a couple of years earlier, much less one that involved distance and travel.

Soon enough, I was landing in Newark and finding my way to the exits. I was still a little anxious but my confidence was building as I got the hang of this travel thing, and I strode towards the door like a woman on a mission. As I stepped outside, I saw Nick waiting for me at the curb, and I broke into a huge grin. I had done it! While it may not seem like much, believe me–this was a big deal for me.

I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I stowed my luggage in the backseat and climbed into the car. What followed was a wonderful week of time spent together seeing the beautiful landscape of the Catskills, and the realization that in order to truly grow and live life, sometimes you have to do big scary things. If you’re lucky, you’ll find that taking that chance might be the best thing you’ve ever done.