Dear Dr. Hurd:
I saved your article from last year about facts vs. fears. I still read it from time to time, but I can’t seem to get past my biggest fear: Flying in an airplane. Every little bit of turbulence makes me jump. It’s not so much that I’m afraid of terrorism as I am of incompetent mechanics on the ground or cost-cutting CEOs sending an airplane with maintenance problems up into the sky. I realize that without flying, I will miss out on some great experiences, so I’d like to hear your advice.
Everything has a price. A candy bar costs a dollar or so. A car costs twenty or thirty thousand dollars. A house costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. Just as objects have financial costs, the choices we make in life come with emotional and psychological costs. Marriage, for example, means having less control over your independent living, but (hopefully) in exchange for intimacy and compatibility with another person.
Flying, for you and many others, comes with a psychological cost as well. Some people are focused more on terrorism. Others don’t like being cooped up for a lengthy period of time. Still others, like yourself, dread flying for fear of mechanical failure and human error.
In replying to your specific fears, I might point out that airlines—at least so long as they are required to make a profit, and as such are accountable for passengers’ lives—have a self-serving interest in sending up a safe airplane every single time. For example, in the mid-1990s, U.S. Airways experienced a number of crashes. In response to the naturally bad publicity, they overhauled their safety team and advertised that they were making safety ‘priority one.’ Although, regrettably, accidents are always possible, that particular airline did not suffer a major crash for many years thereafter. Similar examples are everywhere.
Ironically, you’re safer in the air than in many other places. There are over 30,000 commercial flights every single day—more than 10 million flights a year, and the overwhelming majority land safely. These examples could, theoretically, reduce your fears a bit. But I realize they probably won’t. Why? Because, for most people, fear of flying raises issues of control. When you get onto an airplane, you’re forced to confront the fact that you have no control. You are placing your life totally in the judgment of the pilots, controllers and the airline executives who are responsible for overseeing maintenance of the aircraft. There’s no denying this fact as it confronts you, in the form of a powerful emotion, every time you walk down the Jetway.
When you drive a car, you have more control over what happens. You are the one driving the vehicle, and you are the one responsible for making sure maintenance is adequate. But, when you step onto an airplane, you surrender that control, and this is what makes you so anxious. Every bump, every noise, reminds you of that fact.
There are various techniques for treating the symptoms: anti-anxiety medication, deep breathing, happy thoughts, rational thoughts (based on facts, not fears), focusing on what you will do when the plane will land, keeping yourself busy, using alcoholic beverages (careful, now’), and so forth. I’m not knocking any of these approaches, but they only address the symptoms. The fear will always return next time.
If you’re interested in tackling the root causes rather than just temporarily reducing the symptoms, then work on the issues of control and emotional cost in your daily life. Don’t wait until you have a flight scheduled. Ask yourself, every day, how you can become more accepting of things over which you have no control. Ask yourself how you can better accept not only the fiscal costs of things, but, more importantly, the psychological costs as well. Keep a journal, and note when you handle these situations more—or less—rationally than normal. Practice letting go. Handing over control isn’t easy, especially when your life is in the balance, and sometimes a skilled therapist or qualified personal coach can help reinforce your efforts.
Learn to distinguish the likely and the probable from the merely possible. A plane crash is always possible. So are car crashes and lightning strikes. But, under normal circumstances, none of these are likely or probable. The overwhelming majority of flights on the overwhelming majority of days occur without incident. To remain in business, airlines have every incentive to make sure this is the case, because if their plane goes down, everybody will know.
So, we pay the emotional cost of the freedom and convenience of flying by learning to relinquish control over certain things. Doing so will be difficult in the beginning, but the reward can be a more interesting and exciting life. Consider the alternatives. If the effort is worth it to you, you can make it happen.