People get excited when I say we're traveling a lot this summer. And we're lucky to be able to.
Sometimes I want to add, "I hope I don't get hit with a spell of existential depression over there. Fingers crossed!"
But I never do. I chime in with the relatives we're visiting, our good fortune that my husband's conference covers the hotel. I get excited myself, thinking of the possibilities, things my daughter might see and do.
I am not somebody who has enjoyed travel. I've spent too many days on trips dead-eyed and depressed, my already shaky inner balance deteriorated by long days, time zone changes, and a sudden gap in my therapist appointments.
My therapist has offered to talk to me while I'm on trips, but I can't figure out how to avoid being overheard.
***
We got back from our first trip of the summer a couple weeks ago, and I'm sleeping in along with my daughter, still rooted in the former time zone. I'm taking extra doses of my as needed anti-anxiety medication, trying to settle the increased nightly dread accompanying my adjustment to travel.
I'm struggling to find time to work, since I wake up according to the previous time zone, and my evening anti-anxiety pill has a sedative effect that makes focus slippery. It's hard to separate my low mood from the impact of travel. I forget to take all of my pills one night, sobbing the next day in bed. My husband urges me to email my therapist, but the day passes, and I realize I never did.
These are some of the reasons I did not used to like travel, reasons I'm waiting to judge whether the trip was worth it. Ask me when my mood and sleep are restored.
***
If I could pick any travel destination for my family, I would like to visit Kyoto. I read a travel essay about Kyoto when I was about ten years old, at a party at my aunt's house that I spent browsing her bookshelf. I've wanted to go to Kyoto since.
I'm not sure when we'll be able to visit Kyoto, but ideally my daughter would be a bit older, so that she could really remember our time there. I think she'd especially enjoy the railway museum. We could explore temples and parks.
In my daydreams about Kyoto, I don't think about the weeks spent in the twilight of jet lag, or the moments of desperation from travel-induced mood swings.
I haven't made it to Kyoto, but I like imagining us there.
***
I am uncertain when I agree to a two-week trip to Romania and Sweden, partly to visit my daughter's great-grandpa, but I am also hopeful. If I can keep it together, maybe we can go on more long faraway trips, tagging along with my husband on conferences. I see my daughter's excitement, her questions at interesting buildings or animals.
The pessimistic part of me half-believes a hotel breakdown is inevitable, since I have rarely made it through a long trip without a bout of depression.
But I can pack my anti-anxiety medication. And, although my husband will be attending a conference during our portion in Sweden, I can drag myself to bring my daughter to a playground. That's what I often do at home when I'm depressed anyway.
And we are lucky.
On our last trip, visiting my husband's parents, I looked out the window as our plane took off. I wanted to explain to my daughter what was happening—the words "Bernoulli's Principle" materialized in my brain, I tried to remember high school physics. But I said nothing and pointed out the window, the ground angling and becoming sky.
Photo: Cosmin Deaconu
Read it two, maybe three, times!