The second plane finally landed in Orange County and as I walked off, I suddenly felt lost. Although it wasn't the first time I'd flown by myself, I stood in the middle of the terminal and looked all around me, unsure of what to do. Hurried people rushed past me and I remained glued to the ground. It felt like the airport was closing in on me and I struggled to catch my breath. This was one of many panic attacks I had to deal with just in that week alone. A woman came up and tapped me on the shoulder as I struggled to fill my lungs. "Miss, are you lost? I know this airport really well. What are you looking for?" I turned towards her and suddenly felt nauseated. Bathroom. I somehow managed to say while gasping for air. She led me to the restroom where I ran and threw up in the stall. Feeling a little better, I cleaned myself up and put in a piece of gum. The kind woman had waited with me and led me in the direction of baggage claim. As we were walking, I kept thinking what if Allison isn't here yet. What if I flew all this way and I need to wait for her. I really just need to see her right now.
After saying goodbye to the woman, I stepped onto the escalator that led to baggage claim. Once I knew I wasn't going to trip on the moving stairs, I looked up. Waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs was Allison; arms crossed, tears in her eyes, and a smile across her face. At that moment, time stood still. All I wanted to do was run down the stairs. Unfortunately, there were people two steps below me and I resisted the urge to plow through them. What seemed like the longest escalator of my life finally ended and I ran towards Allison. I threw my stuff on the ground and we hugged for a good couple of minutes. "You did it. Rachel, I'm so proud of you. You did it!" For the first time since I said goodbye to Janale that morning, I felt like I could actually breathe. Allison wrapped her arm around me and walked me to my carousel as I (once again) sobbed. I tried to calm myself down as we walked, but every time I remembered what was happening, a new round of sobbing began. We stood there staring at the empty carousel when Allison turned and said "Okay, Rachel. It's not all over. You've done great so far, but we've still got a ways to go. You know that, right?" I nodded and tried to soothe my jagged sobbing. "Good. We'll be there in about 45 minutes." The look on my face must have expressed the trapped feeling that overcame my insides because Allison quickly tried to calm me down. "Rach, it's okay. We're getting your bags and we've still got a 45 minute drive. Don't worry, I'm not going to just leave you. I'm going to come in with you and it will be good." I shook my head and started muttering under my breath. Allison reached over to wrap her arm around me, but I yanked myself free. I ran away from her and turned my back so I could full-on cry. An ugly, body-convulsing, snot-choking, face-blotching cry. Before I could finish, she was right beside me with her arm around my shoulders. "Rachel, it's okay to cry. In fact, it's good. You've been holding it all in for a long time now. But, you don't need to be alone anymore. I'm going to be here. It's okay to need someone." I was still pissed. Somehow, I had gotten this idea in my head that we were going to go to her house for the night and get up the next morning to check in. This was not what I had signed up for. My bags finally came and as I reached for them, Allison tried to help me. Shoving her away from my bags, I rudely and willfully told her to stop and that "I had it". For some reason, I really wanted to do this on my own.
After both my bags were off the carousel, Allison once again tried to help me. And, I once again refused to let her. I threw my duffel bag onto my rolling suitcase and shrugged my purse onto my shoulder. With my free hand, I gripped my quilt and we walked towards the parking garage. Despite my stubborn refusal of help, Allison continued to wrap her arm around my shoulder in case I needed her. I would be curious what thoughts were running through her mind right then. It may have been amusing to watch me be so silly and stubborn. Or, she may have been frustrated to see that despite the months of her desperate attempts to help me, I continued to push her away.
Getting to her car, she tried for a third time to help me. I may or may not have shoved her hand away while she reached for my suitcases. "Allison, I've got this. Seriously." While I lifted my first suitcase, Allison put my second one in (she's stubborn, too!), despite my determination to stop her. She shut the trunk and we walked to our respective sides: she on the driver's side and I on the passenger's. I got to the door and froze. One hand held the handle and the other clutched my quilt. Allison had already slid into her seat and buckled her seatbelt. She looked over her shoulder and saw me standing there and quickly got out of the car. As I looked back and saw her getting out, I doubled over and cried. My face squished into my quilt and and Allison gently rubbed her hand on my back. "Rachel, my friend. It's okay. This is not the end. You've made it so far. You can cry and take the time you need, but it's going to be fine. When you're finished we can talk this through." Many moments later, I sat my head up and choked back the tears. "Rachel. Here's what we're doing. We're going to drive to the hospital. I'm going to be honest, I'm not 100% sure this is where you need to be. But if it is, we will meet with the people and talk it through and then you will check in. I live so close and I will visit you, call you, whatever you need. I'm here for you. You know you need to do this, otherwise you wouldn't have come all this way." The whole time she was talking I was muttering "no no no no no no no. I can't do this." over and over again. She turned to me and said "Okay, are we done crying? Catch your breath and get in the car. You can do it."
With the sassy angst of a teenager (even though I was technically no longer a teen), I slid into the car and continued to slowly cry. I desperately wanted to stop crying because I wanted to be brave. I wanted Allison to see me being brave. However, as soon as I managed to get the tears to subside, a new wave would overcome me and my fear would get the better of me. I thought I was being a baby, but I think when you're about to embark on the hardest thing of your life so far, you're allowed to cry. You're allowed to admit "Okay, this is hard. I am scared. AND I'm doing it anyway."
