My Cervical Vertigo And Panic Disorder (Chapter 4)

“JUST GO”

Introduction

Welcome to another Chapter of “My Cervical Vertigo and Panic Disorder” story. If you haven’t already, please feel free to start on Chapter 1.

From there, links will be provided to continue chapter by chapter. Thank you for reading, and I wish you a fantastic rest of your day, wherever you may be!

“I think I’m gonna stay for another.”

My roommate was getting up to leave and go back home. Luckily, it was a short walk, and even though it was cold outside, another margarita would warm me right up. So I stayed, and I’m glad I did.

As soon as he left, I ordered another tequila delight and went to my phone. I had been serious about the prospect of going to Australia for a year on a working visa but had yet to pull the trigger. There were too many unknowns and too many fears. I needed a spark.

The last tab I pulled up was an article titled “Just Go”. It was a wanderlust-inspiring article that told me to get out and see the world. Life is too short.

The moment my eyes scrolled across the first lines, one of my favorite songs came on, “Time” by Pink Floyd.

I sat back in my chair and laughed.

It was one of those moments that was not a coincidence; it was fate.

“And you run and you run to catch up with the sun but it’s sinking, racing around to come up behind you again.”

I had no choice but to put the wheels in motion and just say, “screw it” I got to do this. I was 27 at the time, and I only had until 30 to apply. My lease was ending in less than six months; I had been at my job for three years, and it was time to see what I was made of. The “time” was now.

I was nervous about the long flights. Until that point, the longest flight I had been on was seven hours from D.C. to London. If I were to go straight from L.A. to Sydney, it would be 14 and a half. I wanted to break it up.

To prepare for the long flights, I decided some exposure therapy was needed in the form of Six Flags. I needed roller coasters and rip cords and other thrill rides to suppress the unwanted feeling of being in a tube for hours on end. That scared the crap out of me.

The first flight was from Denver to L.A. where I stayed for a couple of days, then from L.A. to Honolulu, where I also stayed for a couple of days.

It was in Hawaii that I had two profound moments of conquering fear.

I had a dream about a year before I left for Australia that there was a tornado approaching the house that I grew up in. The sky was a mix of black and green and the wind was starting to snap branches of trees and whistle through the windows.

Normally, when storms were strong, my mother would be the first one trying to usher us to the basement for safety. It was my dad and I that would stay up as long as we could to see the storm and the possible tornado.

This time, I was scared. She was steadfast. Seeing that I was shaking, she looked at me and said,

“Alex, you need to stop being scared of everything.”

Then I woke up.

My bunkmates in the Waikiki hostel were Americans as well. Both from the East Coast, they had one day left on Oahu and were going to spend it riding around the island on a moped. I asked if I could join.

The day started dreary, wet, and chilly. The roads were damp, and at certain points, the rain was heavy. I was incredibly nervous about laying down the scooter, especially as the two crazy ones took off down a steep incline on the freeway. How they didn’t crash themselves is beyond me.

We had gone up to the very northwest corner of the island in hopes of seeing the World War II era “pillbox” bunkers, but seeing that it was way too muddy for our mopeds, we turned back to reconnect with the Kamehameha Highway.

It was here that my first battle with fear took place.

“Guys, we should turn back. Let’s just head back the way we came. There’s too much rain.”

It was an excuse. I was scared about the rain, and I wanted to get back to the safety of the hostel and the city. The thought of wrecking was so deeply concerning to me that I wanted to bail out.

They looked at me briefly, and I knew their answer without them having to say a word. They were determined. I give them that. Going back wasn’t even an option for them. It was forward only.

I sucked it up.

As soon as we reached the famous “North Shore”, the sky opened up. The turquoise blue water saturated my eyes, just like the pictures in magazines. Surfers were running out to get their first wave of the day, and a group was gathered around a sea turtle on the beach.

And, wow. The east side of the island, just wow. The highway ran butted up against the clear, teal water, and lush, green mountains shot straight up directly to our right. The small town of Kaaawa was breathtaking and picture-perfect. Majestic. Dream material.

The whole East Coast was an incredible adventure. It was Hawaii. The appeal from starstruck friends and family that raved of its glory, I never fully understood being landlocked in Kansas and Colorado.

But at that moment, on that Kamehameha Highway, I saw it and I was free.

If I would have bailed and let my fear overtake me, then I wouldn’t have truly lived. I wouldn’t have seen the sheer beauty of this earth and I would have held resentment and guilt to this day.

My second moment of fear was moments before my departure from the island.

My plane had been delayed well into the early morning and was the only flight out of the airport when I arrived at around 10 pm. There was an incredibly long line of Polynesians returning home to Fiji or its surrounding islands. I was to catch a connecting flight from Fiji to Sydney, which I ultimately missed.

So after a long process of getting checked in and having new paperwork for a flight out of Fiji, I laid on the cold, hard tile, put in my headphones, and tried to rest for a couple of hours until we boarded in the 2 am hour.

I must have been semi-conscious when I heard the announcement over the speakers that we were now boarding. In line, mere feet away from my destiny, or lack thereof, is when the thought came to me.

“This is it, Alex. No turning back now. You’re technically still in America, but as soon as you’re airborne, there’s no turning back.”

It reminded me of one of my favorite quotes from the Lord of the Rings trilogy, in which Sam and Frodo are just leaving the shire at the beginning of their long journey. Sam stops and says,

“This is it. If I take one more step, it’ll be the farthest away from home I’ve ever been.”

I boarded the plane.

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