The Tyranny of Fear
Controlling the Narrative During Turbulent Times
I was 12 years old the first time I stepped onto an aircraft. It was July 1974 and I was flying from Jamaica to New York’s JFK. I was traveling alone, so I was in the care of a flight attendant—then referred to as a stewardess — who led me down the aisle toward my window seat. She helped me fasten my seatbelt before rushing off to assist other passengers, leaving me alone with a swirl of anxious thoughts.
My eyes darted around the cabin, each glance igniting a barrage of questions. How does this enormous thing stay airborne? What if it’s too heavy with all these people and their suitcases? I wonder if they will let me off?
Tears threatened to spill when a woman wearing a vibrant colored scarf around her head settled next to me, and offered me a warm smile. I wiped my eyes and returned her smile, grateful for the distraction. Before too long, we were chatting and giggling as if we were not strangers.
The engines sprang to life, and our aircraft surged forward as we began to taxi. I gritted my teeth and dug my fingers into the armrests as we lifted off the ground, leaving Jamaica behind and headed towards the clouds that resembled giant, fluffy cotton balls. The woman and I continued chatting and laughing, and the dread in my stomach eased somewhat. I couldn’t tell how much time had passed before the plane jolted.
A loud bang reverberated through the cabin, followed by another, and then another.
The captain's panicked voice crackled over the intercom, announcing that a wing had sustained damage and that we should brace ourselves for an emergency landing.
The aircraft wobbled.
We started to free-fall, and that queasy feeling, similar to the sensation we get when a roller coaster dips suddenly, twisted in my stomach.
The woman next to me frantically tried to tighten my seatbelt, but it was already as tight as it could be. She wrapped her arms around me as the oxygen masks dropped and luggage along with debris flew about the cabin.
My throat burned from screaming.
Then the lights flickered before plunging us into an all consuming darkness.
People cried, screamed, and sobbed goodbyes.
The woman pressed her head against mine, her prayers mingling with my sobs. “Think of something else,” she whispered
“Like what lady?” I thought to my myself as I gritted my teeth. “What could I possibly think about now except the fact that we are hurtling towards the ocean?”
“Think of something else,” she insisted. “Think of something else!”
I thought that she was being ridiculous, but I was desperately terrified and twelve. I squeezed my eyes shut and began to think about all the things that I would do in America - the delicious food that I would try, the relatives I would meet, having indoor plumbing instead of using a pit toilet, color television...
Wait.
We were no longer free-falling; the plane continued to shake violently, but we had stopped plummeting.
“It’s working, it’s working!” I thought hopefully and quickly conjured more images: ice cream, pretty clothes, playing with my sisters, and being at the movies. I kept this up for what felt like an eternity, but we eventually landed with a thud at Miami International Airport, shaken but safe.
Thunderous applause ensued.
I am not suggesting that my visualization altered the fate of the plane, but those moments of shifting my focus profoundly altered my experience.
It took years to chip away at the trauma of that day, and the thought of boarding a plane often felt crippling. However, as I grew older, I learned to manage the fear by focusing on the present instead of dwelling on the ‘what ifs’. If I hadn’t done so, I would have missed out on experiencing some of the world’s most beautiful places.
Fear is a tyrant that lurks in all the corners of our lives, influencing our actions and reactions as we grapple with fears of illness, failure, death, judgement, financial instability, crime, and the list goes on.
Furthermore, we live in a society that capitalizes on fear, constantly pumping us full of reasons to be afraid, often for commercial gain.
It takes just as much energy to worry about what may or may not happen as it does to appreciate all the wonderful things that are actually happening, right now - like the air in our lungs, the warmth of sunshine, the beauty of a starry night, the laughter of our loved ones, the cozy glow of candlelight, the taste of a favorite meal…and that list goes on.
So, focus on the things that you CAN control, such as cultivating a healthy physical, mental, and emotional lifestyle, surrounding yourself with those who bring you the most joy, protecting your peace, pursuing your goals, and being the best version of yourself that you can possibly be.
It is pointless to fear things that are beyond your control or uncertainties that may never happen, as living in fear of the unknown is exhausting, daunting, and a colossal waste of precious time.
I learned that day, on that seemingly doomed plane over five decades ago, that fear is a choice - and so is peace.
Choose wisely.