I’ve always had a complicated relationship with travel. I love the idea of exploring new places, but my anxiety often tries to sabotage my plans. While traveling with family can be daunting, going solo? That’s when my anxiety really kicks into high gear.
This past weekend, I made the decision to journey alone to Muncie, Indiana, to attend the Midwest Writers Conference. As soon as I signed up, anxiety started whispering its doubts. It played on my insecurities, suggesting that this trip was just a frivolous expense, that writing was merely a hobby, and that I wasn’t far enough along in my book to justify attending. It even tried to convince me to postpone, suggesting I could wait for an online conference instead—one where my face wouldn’t be visible, as my anxiety cruelly reminded me of my insecurities about my appearance.
When I brushed off those initial worries (thanks to some encouragement from my partner, who booked my hotel), anxiety escalated its tactics. Here’s a glimpse into the barrage of fears that plagued me during the 11-hour drive, plus the weeks leading up to it:
- A fire might break out in my home.
- My family could get into a tragic car accident.
- I might end up in a crash and leave my partner alone, who would eventually find someone more attractive.
- One of my kids could choke on a grape, even though I didn’t buy any before leaving.
- Another might fall out of a window.
- One could run into traffic.
- One might lock themselves in the washing machine.
- They could put their head inside a plastic bag.
- My partner could have a heart attack in the shower and my child wouldn’t know how to call for help.
- Lastly, I could end up as a victim in a true crime story, chopped up and left in a cornfield after traveling alone.
Anxiety can be relentless. These thoughts filled my mind not just during the drive, but also during the days leading up to it. And believe me, these were among the milder thoughts. My anxious mind would prefer that I stay at home, curled up in pajamas with a book, while my children were kept in a bubble, safe from any possible harm.
However, it’s essential for me to keep pushing through these anxieties, especially for the sake of my children. We want to model the kind of adults we hope they will become. If we wish to raise children who are smart about fear—not fearless—we must show them how to navigate risks. If we want them to pursue their dreams, we must do the same.
Anxiety often feeds on fears of failure, loss, and taking risks. Battling it means embracing discomfort and pursuing passions regardless of the worries that arise. Yes, some days I struggle to leave the house. But for my kids, I have to persist.
I recognize that my children might still grow up with some fearfulness, and I can’t entirely shield them from my anxiety. My role is to listen to anxiety’s deceptive messages and act contrary to them. If anxiety says, “Don’t go,” I go. If it urges me to stay in bed, I take a trip to the beach. If it warns of drowning risks, I ensure safety measures are in place and enjoy the moment.
If my anxiety is going to play dirty, then I can too.
For anyone navigating similar experiences, remember that you’re not alone. Seeking support through resources like American Pregnancy can be invaluable. Additionally, if you’re exploring options for home insemination, check out this guide on the BabyMaker Home Intracervical Insemination Syringe Kit Combo or the At-Home Insemination Kit for comprehensive information.
In summary, while anxiety may attempt to dictate my choices, I strive to confront it by taking risks and pursuing my passions, all in the hope of raising resilient and adventurous children.

Leave a Reply