I find watching the nightly news quite depressing a lot of the time. In fact it’s not just the nightly news, it’s the news in general. I’d much rather do a skim online or of the newspaper so I’m not force fed content I don’t feel I need to see. I can bite off as much as I want to chew before realizing I can no longer digest it.
One of my least favourite stories to see, not just because it’s a tragic event full stop, is a plane crash. It screams in my head “SEE THEY DO BLOODY COME DOWN. THINGS DO GO WRONG!”
You see for whatever reason, I have been a nervous flyer since day dot. And I was only a tiny bit bigger than a dot when I first started flyer having a father that lived interstate. So it’s incredibly annoying having been told your whole life “you’ll grow out of it dear” only to find you’re in a niche group. The group that hangs onto it, like Kevin Rudd with a grudge.
This latest plane crash disaster is another one of those moments that on top of the horror you imagine for the victims in it, you also shudder knowing my next trip up in the sky is going to be once again like the first time I saw Wolf Creek. Unnecessarily hideous.
So my phobia is plane’s flying and another’s might be a fear of drowning? Sometimes we just have those odd, unexplained ‘that’s my thing’ type of situations that just completely turn us into a trembling nutcase.
And when something as irrational as a fear of flying is taking over way too much of your thought space, given my more realistic issues of dying might be smoking or getting hit by a car, occasionally it’s time to consider an equally irrational cure and be equally irrational about sharing it here.
Something like perhaps, Past Life Therapy?
When at 38 and after another trip from Adelaide to my birth place of Melbourne, I was so rattled after 4 seconds of turbulence, convinced it was totally game over, and ready to vomit into the back of the person in front, I seriously said to myself “ok, I’m just going to have to start driving from state to state inside of flying, and I’m going to have to come to terms, I’ll never see another country again.”
Or, I could book myself in to have some Past Life Therapy and see what goes on with that? Which is what I did. Now say what you like, but in I tottered to the therapy session, where the lady closed her eyes and tuned in to see what she was given. For the record she said she was given flashes like a movie in her head, which represented images from my Past Life. And sure enough, there I was in the cockpit of a plane trying to fly the thing through lightening and a shower of bullets.
She could feel that I was telling the couple of passengers sitting in the back that everything was going to be ok but in my heart I knew it wasn’t.
More and more images came to her and then she could feel and see the plane going down. She felt I was the last one in that small old plane to die. And I died with a lot of guilt.
The therapist explained to me that sometimes our phobias are issues dragged over from one lifetime to the next. Around the age that we died in the past life of the issue, is the age that your phobia can go through the roof in this life and once that age passes, your fear too can subside.
So there you go, I was once a pilot, maybe even in the war. How frustratingly typical though that I could carry over my intense fears of flying into this life, yet not a flicker of recognition when it comes to a sense of direction?