Going to the airport

Going to the airport - an adventure in itself. I felt really good yesterday, just tooling around home, running a few last minute errands, and finally packing my bags. Thanks to my husband who helped me think in a rational manner about how I needed things separated which made packing very smooth. I really feel like I have everything and didn't forget anything. Considering that I'm going away for 10 days, to another country - to Africa, no less, that's kind of amazing all by itself.

We went to bed late and I woke up on the edge of a panic attack, I felt it and I just smiled in my bed because I knew why I was panicking, and I was able to just breathe deeply, even half asleep, and let go.

When we were on our way to the airport I was feeling intensely nervous, quite nauseated and lightheaded. As we arrived at the airport and ran into Jane immediately, I actually started feeling like I was going to faint - sweaty and hot and lightheaded. Through it all, I am having this inner dialogue - I shouldn't go. I have to go, of course I'm going. But I'm freaking out, so maybe I shouldn't go, because if I freak out just a little more, I will probably faint and barf right here all over the airport and miss my flight anyway. I'm not sure I've felt such intense anxiety in a very long time and I'm glad that I don't have to deal with it very often!

The trip so far has been  fun - writing now from the last leg, the flight from Brussels to Kigale, and then Entebbe. I haven't really slept much which really sucks, but I think after I eat dinner here I'll sack out for a while. I did manage to sleep a little bit and I'm quite tired now thanks to the Dream Water (handy stuff!). The flights have been relatively comfortable and this last leg, luxuriously, isn't full, so I have a row of four seats with only one other person in it. I can stretch out a bit which is nice considering this is the longest leg. I can't wait to land,  and see, and touch, and smell. I can't wait.