Extra Baggage- Travelling with Anxiety
Travelling with Mental Illness and Anxiety
The bus lurched as it turned a corner, dusk descending through the rush of trees rimming the road. The broken air conditioners belched out warm gusts of air doing little to disperse the oppressive heat, wisps of hair tangled with perspiration matted at the back of my neck. I teetered on the edge of my seat, my nails tapping against my armrest- the pitter of anxious anticipation. Beside me, Sid pulled out his phone to check the time again, the white glow of the numbers changing too fast for my liking. My throat slimy with nerves, I tried to remember to breathe.
We were travelling from Belgrade to Zagreb. Once there, a connecting bus would take us to Milan where we were to hop on a plane that would take us home, wrapping up our backpacking adventure. But with less than twenty-six hours to go till our flight, our current bus ride running late and three countries left to cross to get to the airport, there wasn’t a whisper of a hope that we would make it there in time.
The events leading up to this point had been a disaster- a huge cosmic joke that the universe tossed in our path. All our meticulous planning had come undone when the train on the way to Belgrade broke down. Arriving four hours late we missed the last train to Zagreb, which left us stranded in Serbia. Thinking fast, we located the nearest bus station, booking bus tickets that would get us to our destination.
The bus station was teeming with people. Locals wove their way through the saturated crowds, nimbly avoiding gaping potholes in the cracked road. The sounds of construction droned on somewhere in the background. I felt it then, that first surge of panic filling my lungs, robbing me of breath. Chest seizing at the thought of having to navigate that chaos.
We began the frantic search for our platform, turning wrong corners, pushing wrong doors. I kept checking the time, five minutes passed, then ten. We found our bus, separated from us by a barrier, a gruff guard refusing to let us on to the platform as we watched our saviour fill up with people, and then roll away.
Without us.
Later we found out that in Belgrade you also needed to purchase platform tickets to board the bus. We made it in time for our next ride, with the help of a friend living in that city who helped us navigate the transportation process.
Now, sitting on that bus ride, I could feel the familiar porcupine of anxiety nestled in my stomach. That little bundle of nerves clawing at my chest, shallow gasps for air ravaging my body as I tried to gulp them down. The humming of the bus too loud, everything too much, too heavy. I knew that if I didn’t get my thoughts under control, I’d spiral into a panic attack.
Travel had always been an anxiety trigger for me. The constant swarm of thoughts that always crowded my brain would buzz louder during trips. I remember family vacations when I was younger, how my mother would triple check our tickets and passports as she ushered my brother and me into the car. How we’d always arrive at the airport four hours early (why do parents always do that?). And that tinge of anxiety as I crossed those strange metal gates, ready to beep with accusation. Travel was something to be scheduled to perfection, you had to be prepared for every eventuality.
This bus ride was different, I could feel the reigns of controls being yanked out of my hands. Despite our planning, everything had still gone awry. I could either let go of things that were no longer within my control and look for a solution or allow the flood of my anxious thoughts to drown me away. So I took a deep breath, relaxed my shoulders and committed to embracing the situation.
Together, Sid and I began hatching a plan. When we stopped for a bathroom break, I went to ask the bus driver if he could contact the driver for our next trip from Zagreb to Milan and ask him to wait for us at the station. We were running later than scheduled and would otherwise miss our bus. My task proved to be a little more than challenging- we didn’t speak a common language. A fellow traveller overheard me and offered to translate, and through her mediating, we arrived at a solution. The driver assured me that he would do his best to help us.
Meanwhile, Sid contacted the bus company and explained our situation. They explained that if we missed our next bus ride, they would cover our costs for a hotel in Zagreb and our trip to Milan the next morning ensuring we caught our flight home on time.
We ended up missing that first bus to Milan, but as I stood on the balcony at the hotel in Zagreb, the city twinkling beneath me, I couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Laugh at how unlucky we had to be to miss four travel connections in one day. And I was surprised to realise that despite the stressfulness of the situation, I was grateful. Grateful that everything came together in the end, that there were people willing to help us, that I got to spend the night in Croatia. Grateful that everything wasn’t perfect, that it didn’t quite unfold as planned.
For people with anxiety, it isn’t always easy to let go of control; to relax and go with the flow instead of swimming against it. I had been proud of myself that day for keeping my thoughts in check, that I hadn’t let my need to control things take over me, focusing instead on simply acknowledging the situation and asking for help. I learned that maybe, just maybe, travel doesn’t have to be an intimidating ordeal, a chaotic rush to tick things off the itinerary. That approaching it with curiosity and mindfulness can take you on an unforgettable adventure and teach you something about yourself - even when things don’t unfold according to schedule.
I still wouldn’t consider myself a blissful traveller. I still check several times for my passport and purse and I still arrive at the airport at least three hours early (definitely a habit passed down by my parents). But by changing my mindset I’ve learned to find ease in travel. Instead of focusing on the excruciatingly long lines I now practice deep breathing exercises as I wait. I’ve let go of the pressure of perfection, last minute changes to the itinerary are no longer stressful inconveniences but unexpected adventures. And I am kinder to myself, allowing myself to be part of the airport bustle instead of getting swept away by it.
It isn’t easy to lug around anxiety on your journey, alongside all of your other luggage. You can’t check it into the baggage compartment or store it in your hotel room while you’re out sightseeing. But with a little bit of patience, openness and grace you can begin to calm those nervous thoughts and approach travel with gentle curiosity, seeing what new destinations can teach you, welcoming the story that you get to be a part of.