Before the week passes, I want to express my gratitude and journal how an eventful birthday this year was for me.

I proudly say I broke several personal records in the past few days. I will personally take this as an improvement in my mental health.

In the past week alone, I flew on a plane, managed to ride my favourite attraction at the amusement park, and slept for seven hours straight without waking up in the middle.

Many people know it by now: I have been battling intense anxiety disorder and clinical depression for around eight years. It takes a long time, and I am still undergoing therapy because I went through several stages of denial and breakdown, learning processes and an arduous journey towards acceptance.

What comes with my anxiety disorder is a bit hard to swallow.

Besides frequent paralyzing panic attacks, nosophobia, claustrophobia, social anxiety and aversion, I also have to deal with acrophobia. It isn’t easy because it limits my mobility – I cannot travel. I even quit my previous job because it required me to fly whenever necessary.

I have written about it before, but I used to love being in high places and looking down from there. It gave me thrills and overwhelming excitement. I loved attractions that threw me upside in high speed. That critical-11 moment when a plane takes off and lands? I loved it.

And this excitement was suddenly gone, replaced with irrational fears. When you have an anxiety disorder, everything is a battle of life and death for you. Yes, I thought I could die from panic attacks if I had to get out of bed — that’s the most ridiculous thing. But please don’t make fun of those who think this way; it is called ANXIETY DISORDER for a reason.

The fact that I developed acrophobia hit the hardest for me. I couldn’t even ride an escalator and an elevator, let alone board a plane.

Until last Monday, I hadn’t flown for six years.

There was, of course, a chain of events that made me decide to board a plane that day. But then, I could only think, “if I die, I die. It’s been too long, and maybe I am ready. I have to make or break.”

Coincidentally, my father happened to be in the city as well. Funny because I always think that if one day I die, the person I want to see the moment before I die is my father. So I thought, “Oh, this must be my fate”, and strangely chose to succumb to it. And with this random train of thought, I blurted out to my father that I had acrophobia and had been undergoing therapy for mental health issues for years, that it would be my first time boarding a plane after quite a while.

This is how he responded:

“It isn’t about the possibility of the plane crashing, right? It’s about the panic you feel when there is turbulence mid-air, and you cannot do anything.

Well, you must have already known that it’s safer to travel by air than by land. But, of course, wherever you sit, you’ll die if the plane crashes, so it doesn’t matter. But the front seat tends to vibrate less during the trip. Take the front seat.”

My father’s comment might sound dark, but that is how he is. And I found a sense of reassurance, which helped calm me down.

So yeah, long story short, I boarded the plane. I didn’t ditch it like I usually did in the past, wasting so much money on unused plane tickets.

I took Xanax before the flight. I downloaded 10cm lyric videos on youtube and sang along throughout the trip. His songs are soothing and won’t get me hyped while listening. The fact they are in Korean, a language I don’t understand, minimized the possibility of me thinking about the lyrics and helped keep my mind blank. I lifted my feet and sat cross-legged so the plane’s vibration wouldn’t affect my body. And I enjoyed that critical-11 moment.

That feeling when the plane landed, I couldn’t describe. It’s a mix of relief, joy, gratefulness, and glory… I don’t know. But it feels good.

And a couple of days later, I decided to challenge myself to ride my favourite attraction in the amusement park, which I sadly couldn’t bring myself to ride for years. And yes, I did it. Twice.

The best thing? When I came home, I slept from 10 pm to 5 am. Seven hours straight, at night, undisturbed. As most anxiety disorder and depression patients experience, I have trouble sleeping. I don’t think I have slept that long in at least three or four years.

God, it feels good. I am grateful.

It’s not that I suddenly overcame my fear of heights. It started with me riding escalators. Then elevators… from the third, 15th, to 30th floor. Then flying fox. It took years of baby steps. It involves professionals and self therapies.

I conquered my fears. And I hope this feat is permanent.

Happy birthday, myself. You deserve a pat on the back.

Note: If you have similar issues, trust me that therapies help. Believing in a higher power helps. Discuss your routine, so your doctor can prescribe the correct dose that won’t affect your daily activities. If you plan to travel or do something big that might trigger your panic attacks, talk to your therapist so they can check whether or not you need additional medication. Talk to people around you. Not everyone will understand, but once you find one, you will see how big of a deal it is towards your recovery journey. It might be hard but love yourself. You deserve happiness, and never trust people who say otherwise.