This post was originally written on September 4, 2014:
The first time I flew in an airplane I was 18 years old. I knew that I always got carsick easily, so I couldn't begin to imagine the kind of nausea I would experience on a plane. Before take-off I took the recommended dose of Dramamine and nervously waited for it to kick in. Three years later I found myself on a flight across the Atlantic ocean returning home after a semester in St. Petersburg, Russia. After spending 24 hours on planes and in airports, I was relieved to spend a comfortable night in my own bed. The only thing that bothered me (aside from the intense jet lag) was that every time I closed my eyes the room would start spinning. It wasn't enough to make me sick, but it was disorienting.
The dizzying, rocking feeling after spending time on a boat, in a car, on a plane, or otherwise in a constant state of motion is called Mal de debarquement syndrome, or MdDS. The actual syndrome is more severe than the short 12 hour period that I experienced. Symptoms can be present for up to three years and cause significant turmoil. Additionally, there is no set treatment for the syndrome.
What is most interesting to me about MdDS is that the people who experience it never know until they are on solid land and stable. Their bodies are able to adjust to the rocking and swaying and whatever other motions they have to go through. The inner ear helps people to stay oriented and up-right. Because of this they can get used to what is actually completely unsteady ground.
Time and time again I've found myself (as most people have) battling against rocking ground, trying to find my balance. Sometimes it feels like jumping through flaming hoops in the middle of an earthquake when a tornado is also coming to suck you up. I always manage to keep my balance, jump through the hoops, and steer clear of the tornado. But the transition back to stable ground is so jarring that I'm unsure of what to do with myself. If I don't have the battle pushing me forward, then why am I moving forward at all?
As if I don't have enough comparisons and stories, let me throw one more in here for good measure. It will all come together in the end, I promise. Back in January I decided to cut carbs out of my diet completely. I lasted about three days because on the third day I got in a car accident on my way to work. Thankfully no one was injured.
You'd think that the worst part would be waiting an hour for the police and tow truck to show up when cars were rushing by as my bumper protruded slightly into oncoming traffic. But I learned a really important lesson at that moment. Life is too short to avoid carbs. So I ate fruit snacks with my friend and joked about ways the situation could be worse.
The most awful part of that day was calling one insurance representative after the other and retelling the story. I second guessed everything that happened, why it had happened, if I had responded correctly (for the record, it wasn't my fault), and most of all how much this would cost me.
Let's tie this post up with a bow. Douglas Adams said, "It's not the fall that kills you; it's the sudden stop at the end." Falling is terrifying and freeing all at once. The only choice you have in that instance is to keep falling. You can't grow wings and fly your way out. It's when you hit the ground that the options begin. Stay there, wobble around until you fall again, or start running to the next drop even sooner.
(This is when I drop the mic and walk away.)
The first time I flew in an airplane I was 18 years old. I knew that I always got carsick easily, so I couldn't begin to imagine the kind of nausea I would experience on a plane. Before take-off I took the recommended dose of Dramamine and nervously waited for it to kick in. Three years later I found myself on a flight across the Atlantic ocean returning home after a semester in St. Petersburg, Russia. After spending 24 hours on planes and in airports, I was relieved to spend a comfortable night in my own bed. The only thing that bothered me (aside from the intense jet lag) was that every time I closed my eyes the room would start spinning. It wasn't enough to make me sick, but it was disorienting.
The dizzying, rocking feeling after spending time on a boat, in a car, on a plane, or otherwise in a constant state of motion is called Mal de debarquement syndrome, or MdDS. The actual syndrome is more severe than the short 12 hour period that I experienced. Symptoms can be present for up to three years and cause significant turmoil. Additionally, there is no set treatment for the syndrome.
What is most interesting to me about MdDS is that the people who experience it never know until they are on solid land and stable. Their bodies are able to adjust to the rocking and swaying and whatever other motions they have to go through. The inner ear helps people to stay oriented and up-right. Because of this they can get used to what is actually completely unsteady ground.
Time and time again I've found myself (as most people have) battling against rocking ground, trying to find my balance. Sometimes it feels like jumping through flaming hoops in the middle of an earthquake when a tornado is also coming to suck you up. I always manage to keep my balance, jump through the hoops, and steer clear of the tornado. But the transition back to stable ground is so jarring that I'm unsure of what to do with myself. If I don't have the battle pushing me forward, then why am I moving forward at all?
As if I don't have enough comparisons and stories, let me throw one more in here for good measure. It will all come together in the end, I promise. Back in January I decided to cut carbs out of my diet completely. I lasted about three days because on the third day I got in a car accident on my way to work. Thankfully no one was injured.
You'd think that the worst part would be waiting an hour for the police and tow truck to show up when cars were rushing by as my bumper protruded slightly into oncoming traffic. But I learned a really important lesson at that moment. Life is too short to avoid carbs. So I ate fruit snacks with my friend and joked about ways the situation could be worse.
The most awful part of that day was calling one insurance representative after the other and retelling the story. I second guessed everything that happened, why it had happened, if I had responded correctly (for the record, it wasn't my fault), and most of all how much this would cost me.
Let's tie this post up with a bow. Douglas Adams said, "It's not the fall that kills you; it's the sudden stop at the end." Falling is terrifying and freeing all at once. The only choice you have in that instance is to keep falling. You can't grow wings and fly your way out. It's when you hit the ground that the options begin. Stay there, wobble around until you fall again, or start running to the next drop even sooner.
(This is when I drop the mic and walk away.)
