I love you

She sat upright on her bed, heart racing. Took a sip of water from the glass on her bedside table, letting out a deep sigh.

The trip—it's coming soon, she thought.

"Why do we need to go?" she whispered. I wish I could stay here, in the comfort of my home, surrounded by familiar things, my routine, my safe space.

She went to the kitchen cupboard, grabbed some melatonin, and tried getting some sleep. She swallowed it with another gulp of water, feeling hopeful.

But it was hard. Very hard.

Thoughts of the trip, minuscule logistics details kept coming up, spinning around in her mind like a carousel that wouldn't stop. Did she pack enough sunscreen? What about the battery chargers? Should she bring a pair of aqua shoes?

"Uggggg brain—why won't you shut up!" she muttered into her pillow, pressing her face into the cool fabric.

She felt exhausted. Completely and utterly drained, yet somehow unable to find rest.

She had signed up to go on a trip with her husband and two friends to experience some tropical waters. The plan had sounded perfect when they first discussed it months ago—warm sun, crystal clear ocean, a chance to disconnect and explore. On one hand, she felt very excited, genuinely thrilled at the possibility of adventure. But on the other hand, anxiety got the better of her, refusing to leave her body. So many questions flooded her mind at all hours of the day.

"What if I fall sick in a foreign country, where will I seek medical help?"

"What if the flight gets cancelled?"

"Do I have everything I need? What if I forgot something important?"

"Will I be able to do all the activities we signed up for? What if I'm not strong enough?"

She overpacked. Medicines for every possible situation, clothes for every possible scenario, and other necessities she convinced herself were essential. Five iterations of packing and unpacking, rearranging and second-guessing, and still, she did not feel satisfied. Her suitcase sat in the corner of the room calling for attention, needing another look through.

The day for travel was nearly there. She was on the edge, going between excitement and pure panic.

Unable to sleep, constantly worried, unable to get her mind off the upcoming trip and all the logistics that could go wrong. Every detail felt magnified, important, potentially end of the world if overlooked.

Sleep was hard to come by without using sleep aids. She became dependent on melatonin and other soothing things—anything to quiet the storm in her head.

The night before the flight was a huge struggle. She tossed and turned, mentally reviewing her packing list, her trip plan for the hundredth time.

Shortness of breath hit her in waves. Heart racing while in the cab to the airport, she tried to focus on the passing cars, anything to ground herself.

Restless feet, fidgety hands, picking at her nails. Trying to make nervous conversation with her husband, who squeezed her hand reassuringly but couldn't quite reach the fear living inside her chest.

Things seemed to calm down once she was on the flight. The inability to turn back, seeing her husband & friend nearby somehow brought an unexpected peace. The anticipation was finally over, it was happening and there was nothing left to control.

I can't believe I made it!

It has been a hard journey, harder than anyone around her probably realized.

Still mildly anxious, she began exploring the country. Every new experience felt like a small mountain to climb.

Too many out-of-the-comfort-zone experiences. Being very close with nature, including bugs that made her skin crawl and her heart race for different reasons now.

Basic amenities, nothing too fancy. No luxury resorts to hide in, no familiar comforts to retreat to when things felt overwhelming.

Changing accommodation almost every night made it hard to settle, to find her space.

Catching more flights from one city to another, each making it difficult to get too comfortable in one place.

Coming back to the room physically exhausted after long days of activities and exploration, muscles aching in ways she'd never felt before.

Falling sick in the middle of the trip, dealing with acute flu in an unfamiliar place, feeling homesick.

Letting fear override logic before trying to jump in the water, standing at the edge, paralyzed by what-ifs.

That unsettling feeling with twenty other strangers on the boat, feeling small and out of place.

But with all the discomfort, with all the fear and anxiety, also came many firsts. Beautiful, transformative firsts.

Snorkeling for the first time, breathing through the tube, trusting the equipment, trusting herself.

Seeing calm turquoise blue ocean water that looked like something out of a dream, colors she had never been so close to.

Swimming alongside a sea turtle, the beauty of the creature gliding beside her, sharing the same space.

Laying down on a net on a boat right on the ocean, suspended between sky and water, the gentle rock of the waves beneath her, with an occasional splash of water on the face.

The sand while walking on the beach, soft and warm between her toes, grounding her in the present moment.

The heat of the sun touching her face, warming her from the outside in.

Finally jumping in water after many unsuccessful attempts, the moment of facing fears, of letting go.

Making friends with the boat people, sharing stories, playing games with strangers who became familiar faces.

The urge to go into the water again and again, the fear transforming into something like joy.

Tearing up after being overwhelmed with the beauty, emotions spilling over in the best possible way.

Then there is a moment. A moment when you feel flutters in your heart.

A happy feeling consuming you, filling every corner of your body.

It feels almost surreal, like watching yourself in a movie.

Even with so many people around, you see YOU. The real you, not the anxious part, not the worried part.

A version of you that was not visible behind closed doors, hidden under layers of comfort-seeking.

Unhinged, happy, and free.

You look at yourself, really see yourself, perhaps for the first time in a long time.

Feel yourself—your aliveness, your courage, your capacity for joy.

You take a huge breath of air, filling your lungs completely, and say to yourself with full conviction:

"I love you."