Help, I’ve Got Pre-Travel Anxiety!

If it wasn’t for my boyfriend I wouldn’t have anything ready for my upcoming trip to Rajasthan, India.

I’m leaving in four days and apart from an order from ASOS that included linen tops and trainers, I’ve been woefully underprepared. I mean hell, it was because of Christmas that I even have a camera to take photos with, otherwise I would’ve gone to India all old-school by trying to capture the colour and brightness of a sari with a sketchpad and pencil (although admittedly, that would be pretty cool).

But thankfully I have a wonderful, wonderful boyfriend who is willing to both simultaneously help me out and kick me up the arse.

Some of the lovely things my boyfriend bought…

Today he bought me my medication, my travel-sized toiletries, my multi-purpose charger and a cheap phone that can fit all types of SIM card amongst a smattering of other useful, very necessary bits. This led me in turn to write a list of the things I need to buy tomorrow including oil-free sun cream and antihistamines. This is in addition to the fact I still need to sort out my travel insurance and figure out how I’m actually getting to airport for 6am. And, of course, I haven’t even thought about actually packing my rucksack asides from writing this little nugget about it down. My word. For someone who is so obsessed with planning and who has a distaste for spontaneity, I’m actually surprising myself here with how lax I’ve been.

At the bottom of these deep, dark, lonely stairs lies my rucksack, ready for me to pick it up lovingly and roll some clothes and useless junk in it

…Yet am I really being slack? Well. Yes. But I believe there’s more to it than that.

Because I’m worried, you see. I’m worried and anxious and frightened and apprehensive and all of those lovely anxiety-ridden emotions. I feel like there’s 100 butterflies fluttering between my heart and stomach, flying to-and-from and to-and-from and batting wings back-and-forth and back-and-forth until they can’t stop and it results in a bunch of butterflies exploding with screams of, ‘oh my God you’re going to India for two months and you have no idea what you’re bloody doing!’ or ‘you’re going to miss your boyfriend so goddamn much’ or ‘how many Imodium tablets will prevent Delhi belly from the street food you KNOW you will have!?’

Yep. It’s all calm here.

Some of the stuff (largely crap) I and others bought for this trip lying in an Amazon box in the corner of my bedroom. Items include a notebook, some jazzy genie pants and a neck pillow.

Essentially, I believe I’m largely ignoring the fact that I’m going to Rajasthan. Obviously I will spend the entirety of the day before packing like a crazed woman and running over timetables and contracts at least 20 times, but for now I’m not thinking about it too much. ‘This way,’ I reason, ‘I cannot get more anxious,’ and whilst this may not be a healthy approach, it’s my current and best approach at the moment (unless you, dear reader, have any advice).

So as I sit here with a ripped-up rucksack that needs to be sewn up, documents that need to be photocopied and a passport that must actually be found alongside what feels like a gazillion other things that need to be done, I’ll turn to the next page of my boyfriend’s Men’s Health magazine and eat a slice of lemon tart.

Because even though one of my dreams is going to come true, I’ll do just about anything to distract myself right now.

Me and my butterflies do not yet feel ready.


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