Dear Diary: Flying To Thailand



(But you guys probably guessed that hey y’know what? Getting two flights on your own isn’t actually all *that* hard.)

So hi, here I am, sitting in a guest house somewhere in Koh Samui whilst watching a super duper scratched Sherlock dvd whirr on the TV and drinking instant coffee made with a sachet that has milk, coffee and sugar combined in one.


Also, I saw a cat eat a lizard whilst I was making the coffee, so there’s that.

I don’t know what to tell you.

I want to tell you how crippled with anxiety I was on Wednesday, the day before I flew out – how shaky and nauseous and oh-ffs-why-do-my-lungs-feel-crushed I felt. How self-conscious I was about my body that was about to be thrust onto a beach. How I doubted myself and my ability to travel across the world on my own.

But it just seems boring. It just sounds so weak. Does that make sense? I want to be seen as this go-getter, this sassy, independent force to be reckoned with. This woman who can’t be stopped or phased or scared or nervous. That’s how I want to feel, I want it just flowing through my veins. But sometimes, reality gets the better of me and I realise that things do scare me and overwhelm me. Things that on paper sound so do-able, turn out to completely throw my brain and my sense of control.

For weeks I was like I’M GOING TO THAILAND ON MY OWN AND IT’S GOING TO BE SO FUN and then I got a bit nervy and then Chris got home on Wednesday evening to find me lying on the sofa, on the brink of tears with an empty glass of wine by my side and whispers of ‘I don’t think I can do this’ sliding out of my mouth.

He’s a lucky chap, right?

Spoiler: I did do it and you can do it and we can all do it, if we just distract ourselves from the voices in our heads that are like mate, you’re not as sassy and independent as you think.

Those voices can do one.

Anyway fast forward to yesterday afternoon, and there was this moment. This moment whilst I was propped up on a stool at Wagamama’s with a big bowl of curry and a blueberry juice, just watching out over Heathrow Terminal 5 where I felt so clam and strong and so me, like the good version of me.

And I realised that I could do it. I was doing it. What I was doing was so exciting and fun and new and once-in-a-lifetime and I had to seize that moment and take it in my stride. I didn’t want to look back and say, oh but what if I’d only enjoyed it more, instead of thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

I had to force the anxious whispers in my head to one side and I had to replace them with squeals of ‘well ain’t life grand and OMG LOOK AT YOU GO, HUN’.

I had to embrace it.

And so I have, I am embracing it.

I am embracing the weird af instant coffee and the lizard-eating cats. I am embracing the 35 degree heat and the constant EVERYWHERE sweating. I am embracing the plane delays and flapping around airports like an actual pigeon. I am embracing the things that could be seen as negatives on a slightly less happy day, because what’s the point in letting my own mind and mood hold my back?

So yeah, weird ramble of a sleep deprived blog post. I think I snatched a few hours last night in-between episodes of The Big Bang Theory and chapters of The Goblet of Fire and now the coffee is y’know, stopping me from falling asleep sitting up.

And on that note, before I get too cosy on this bed, we’re off to explore and have some drinks and play our favourite Polish card game. A pretty sexy Friday night if ever I saw one.

See ya laters alligators.

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