First the great news.  My cousin apparently has some genetic variant of lung cancer that is treatable!  It’s unclear exactly this means in terms of prognosis, but it’s unambiguously good news.

We’re on our way to the Big Island on Saturday.  This is also good news.  The not so good news?  Well, naturally I’m anxious as hell and wishing I wasn’t.  Just why?  It’s not rational.  Why can’t I be a laid back person?  I remember loving travel as a kid.  It changed in college / grad school, I’ve grown more and more stressed about it as I’ve aged.  Now, of course, we’ve added Covid preventative measures on top to make it even harder.  To go to Hawaii, you need to be vaccinated or have a negative test.  I think this is great because it makes it unlikely we’ll contract Covid on the plane, but the testing and verification process for the kids is stressful.

I am also not thrilled about wearing a mask on the plane.  As a claustrophobe who struggles with feeling trapped on planes, wearing a mask does not help.  So yeah.  It’s just one more thing.

I just hope I can control my anxiety enough to actually enjoy our vacation.  I’ve actually been doing great overall for the last 18 months or so.  I was pretty stressed out for the first six months of S’s life in an unhealthy way.  I struggled with obsessing over how much she was eating and her weight.  But since then, I’ve been fine, even with H traveling and dealing with all the Covid stuff.  But I haven’t really traveled since the beginning of 2019, and it’s just hard.  I feel safe at home, or near home.  The farther away I travel, the more irrationally unsafe I feel.  Even if my rational brain knows this makes no sense, some part of myself refuses to accept it.