Okay, so this post is going to be very short. I’ve had a really busy week and my lil brain is working at v.low capacity (I called the remote control the “channel-changer” earlier). Today I’m going to briefly celebrate a small (but kinda yuge) victory I experienced this week. 

OCD makes flying very difficult for me. Lots of germs circulating in a small space from which I can’t escape. Lots of humans that might cough or sneeze. The fear of oxygen running out in the cabin. Air turbulence and a bumpy flight that may cause passengers to vom. My vomit phobia is the main reason flying is scary. I don’t actually care about the crashing and dying risk – I’m at peace with that possibility. But if someone were to puke near me? Nah fam.

Again, logic doesn’t really come into it when you have OCD. I’ve been on ten flights in the past twelve months, and they all went very smoothly (up until this week). Surely this was proof that flying is not necessarily a chance for germy disaster to strike? You’d think my brain would just chill out for a sec and let me catch a flight in peace. 

On Monday I went to the Czech Republic. I flew from Gatwick to Prague, and the journey was pretty sweet. I drank lots of water (hydration baby yeeah) and I listened to Angels and Airwaves on my headphones whilst wearing my fluffy bunny comfort mask (gangsters need sleep too). Nobody was sat behind me, and I slept for most of the flight. “This is all a bit too good to be true,” I thought to myself as I breezed through Prague airport with no queues and no hassle.

I had a lovely time in Prague. Ate all the carbs. Saw all the sights. Stroked all the dogs etc etc.

THEN CAME THE RETURN FLIGHT. It was an evening flight, and weirdly I didn’t feel anxious at all in the run-up that day. Usually anxiety about the flight home makes me ill on the last day of my holibobbles. The airport was a doddle. I bought a cute ring and I ate some tasty food. I went through security and made myself cosy in the departure lounge (in the front corner so that I was in a defensive position to fight off germs and murderers obv). Anyway… twenty minutes passed and the gate wasn’t open. Another 20 minutes and I started to feel a tad unsettled. The flight was supposed to be leaving soon. They finally opened the gate and I was all fired up. I was READY.

The queue slowly dripped onto the plane. As soon as I had climbed the stairs, made awkward eye contact with the pilot and entered the cabin, the smell hit me. VOM. PURE VOM. One of my biggest fears in life is being trapped on a plane with vom, and it was bloody well happening, wasn’t it. There’s no logic in why this particular situation petrifies me so much – I knew deep down that I would survive the situation, yet it still froze me to my core. Perhaps it was the total loss of control of my surroundings? What could I do? I needed to get back to London – and I’d paid for the flight. I stood in the gangway and sang Sail Away by Enya frantically under my breath whilst making really twitchy eye contact with everyone in the vicinity. Did I look crazy? I absolutely bloody did. Did I care? Did I f**k…

Long story short, I did it. I walked to the back of the cabin, I sat down in my chair, inhaled through my mouth and calmly talked myself through it. “Nothing bad is happening… I’m literally sitting down with my worst fear and nothing awful is happening”. Not only is it an absolute victory that I managed to deal with it calmly, it’s also a bloody good bit of accidental exposure in terms of CBT. I know now that I can sit on a plane that smells of vomit and get to where I need to be.

One small step for man, one giant leap for Mimkind.


  1. you are a legend. another amazing post, thanks for your candid honest entries. they are really helping me get through a hard time 🙂 keep kicking ass chick 🤟🏻 well done you


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