slowly surely + xyz : a journey of (re)discovery

I AM. Buffering

By InspiredJourney


… and I did.

I left, after being met by The Girls protest.
I left, after a big hug from Kenya.
I left after a hesitant but respectful fist bump with Baba.

I walk out wearing the same items I’d flown there in.
I walk out, a bit sadden.
I walk out a bit relieved that I had the option of putting an end to what felt like a barrage of condemning energy.

Walking toward the Marta stop, I anger welled up.

I was angry about emotional violence.
I was angry emotional violence to all too common.
I was angry I isolate because most people are wounded and passing the energy onward.

I want to avoid it, and thus find there are few people left.

Arriving at l’aeroport with a nice time buffer before the flight, I plant myself.

Eventually, boarding.

I’m flying my first Basic Economy flight with United.

I am met with, yet another moment of aggression.

One of the three agents working the gate makes it her duty to severely police; holding BE passengers to a strict adherence of the one bag policy. I had my backpack and new purse I’d made tucked into the reusable shopping bag normally reserved for any food or miscellaneous items I need in a moments notice.

Between her blaring messages over the PA system, she demands to turn to let her see what I’m carrying…LOL. Like she’s serious about her job. It was a bit embarrassed for her.

I turn.

She, just barely releasing the button on the phone’s PA, tells me about the bag policy and that I must consolidate. She continues speaking about me (as if I wasn’t there) and that the people at the ticket counter allowed this by tagging my backpack.

She’s BIG MAD.

Over people and their issues, not saying a word, I step aside.

Her colleague looks at me with a bit of sympathy.

I ask: Am I just to throw my backpack into this bag?

“Yes. If you can, just put it in there.”

I asked the question in disbelief, because it was just stoopid. How would me consolidating bags make any difference on this flight? I wouldn’t change the weight, not the space I used. Generally, asinine things are just annoying.

I dump my heavy backpack in to the bag and hope the lightweight bag didn’t fall apart the way a paper bag overfilled with groceries does, just as the shopper exits the store.

Aboard, I make to my empty row and stow my backpack above, and shopping bag under one of the seats in front of me.

Onward.

Before take off, the pilot had warned we’d encounter some rough air.

We did.

But surprisingly, I wasn’t impacted as normal.

I’m an anxious passenger. I am not a fan of flying. But, I’ve worked and gotten myself to the point of not having panic attacks the moment the door to the plane is closed. This flight, I discovered the bumpy ride wasn’t jarring while laying across the seats, versus when seated upright. You have no idea how significant this is. I have literally felt I’d jump out of my skin during turbulence; especially when there is an unexpected dip. Woosaaah. You have to understand that I don’t like going over and down a steep hill too fast, let alone those moments on a plane mid-flight!

We arrived forty-five minutes ahead of schedule.

It’s always interesting coming back in to the city after being gone for a while.

Though not as bone chilling as Atlanta had become the day before I left, the city was a bit grey and nippy.

I was in my bed by 10.

The following nights, couple weeks found me wanting of an entire night of sleep. Didn’t and still hasn’t happen, even with the aid of Advil PM.

I question how it is that I can’t catch rhythm. There hasn’t been a conclusive answer. But deep within, I know I’m lacking.

The holiday season has kicked into high gear with Thanksgiving coming, and going, Black Friday Madness, and Christmas on the horizon. This time of the year doesn’t bother me. However, the fact that I’ve yet to cross the Atlantic Ocean does.

There is only one question: Why am I overly cautious?



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