It should come as no surprise, that me, once an incredibly anxious person, used to hate travelling abroad and being far away from home. What should have been relaxing and peaceful periods of time, holidays were filled with quaking fear, sleepless nights and restless behaviour, making two weeks in the sun feel like two weeks in hell. This may sound like a wild exaggeration, but the reality of the matter was that I used to hate a lot of what came with a holiday. For starters, the journeys themselves always filled me with great discomfort. There’s something about airports that used to make me feel so uneasy. The constant waiting for gates to be announced and waiting to finally board the plane always felt like an intense ordeal. And then there was the actual stay in a new and strange place, which, maybe not straight away, would make me feel apprehensive and uncomfortable. All in all, travelling was not my cup of tea!
