Room Service and a Panic Attack

I’m in the airport Sheraton (paying an absurd amount of money so that I don’t have quite so much stress in the morning). I’m alone on purpose – I wanted a night to get myself in the right headspace for the trip – but I’m feeling really alone. Turns out jumping off the cliff is scarier than I thought. Even though I know it’s the right thing to do and that I’m going to be glad I did it.

I’ve packed and repacked a dozen times so far and still can’t find a way to bring everything I want and still be able to carry it on my back  – and still have room left in my pack for souvenirs. I have my global phone, but am waiting to activate it til the morning. I’ve downloaded hours of movies and television onto my iPad, and I’ve made sure that aspirin and, lets face it, Xanax, will be within arm’s reach through the flight.

Its been a fun process getting ready for this trip and people have been so enthusiastic, although more than a few have said they’d never do it themselves. Hitting up the Upper West Side Lush for solid shampoo, the wonderful Emma, Kia, and Molly loaded me down with products and pampering to send me off feeling and smelling pretty (possibly for the last time in a month).

My friend Esme gave me a weird little product so I can pee standing up, and more importantly a giant hug and loving send off.  I’ve talked to my sister, my step-mom, and a handful of friends. I’ve re-read all the supportive emails from friends from all over.

Everyone thinks I’m ready. And looking at my pack and the empty wine glass next to it, it seems I am.

I’m sure that by wheels up to Hong Kong tomorrow morning, I’ll believe it too. For now, though, I think I might get another glass of wine.