Claustrophobic Travels

Everyone loves to get away for a while, especially during the long, lazy days of summer. Some head for the beach or the mountains, some go home to visit friends and family, others take the trip of a lifetime to see with their own eyes the history and beauty of other countries. All of this moving around the globe involves various forms of travel. Getting there can be either pleasurable or a real pain in the posterior.

If you're claustrophobic - like me - the journey, more likely than not, brings its share of hyperventilating moments. It all began many years ago when someone sat on me while I lay face down in a snowbank. Were it not for several quick-thinking friends who hauled the kid off me in the nick of time, I might have made an early exit from this life. From that day on, I have had a mortal fear of enclosed spaces.

Yet, like millions of others, I love to visit new places and favorite old haunts, and, since I live in a fairly isolated northern community, long travel days are par for the course. Driving is my preferred mode of transportation, except when it involves a ferry ride or tunnel excursion. The twins of my Gemini psyche are constantly at war with one another when I'm travelling – logic vs emotion. You will definitely not smother while exiting your vehicle in the bowels of this ship, asserts logic in a condescending manner. Omg, I can't breathe, I'm trapped, I'm going to die from paralytic fear down here in this dark, stinking hellhole, screams emotion in a state of utter panic. Quintessential Mr. Spock vs Dr. McCoy for all you Trekkies. While driving through the Lafontaine Tunnel in Montreal one time, I was so overcome with dread and apprehension that I cried silently for however long it took to travel the 1.8 kms (must have been at least a hundred years) and I was incapable of speaking for about two hours after the ordeal. Poor hubby always wears a worried frown when escorting me on trips that involve travelling in confined spaces. He's no doubt wondering if this is the time she really loses it.

Flying is also problematic for the legions of us who suffer this sort of malady. It's not the fear of heights nor the possibility of crashing that scares the daylights out of me. No, sirree. I could probably fly around the world without a hitch if they didn't have to close the damn door.

Even when I drive to the supermarket in the middle of winter, I usually have to open the window a crack just to reassure myself that there is a good supply of air circulating throughout the car. Up to this point, I've somehow always managed to survive the stomach churning, irrational anxiety of claustophobia sufficiently to allow me to travel to other locations, but it is definitely draining. As I plan to roam further afield in future years, I'll have to rely ever more deeply on my tried and true mantra: “This is what I have to do to get to where I'm going.”