Orlando, Florida

the very First Stirring

This was the first trip that my son and I would take venturing out at a distance by ourselves. It was Florida, and I already had in my mind what kind of place Florida was and what it wasn’t. There was deep anxiety about going to that state, and it mostly consisted of what happened to Trayvon Martin. I've always thought my son resembled him and with his growing love of hoodies, well, it's self-explanatory.

Learning to act despite being afraid has been one of the hardest parts of my journey. Trusting myself, my intuition, and most importantly my Creator has never come naturally to me. And I have always hated making mistakes. To visit Kennedy Space Center, I would have to go to Florida, and I fought many thoughts just to settle on going. I had to keep my word, which felt like it was becoming worthless to the one person whose opinion mattered most to me. To fulfill my promise to him - I had to go.

My intrusive thoughts wouldn’t let up, and I had no idea how to deal with them. This was, after all, the first distant trip. I had been promising my son for years that we would go to Kennedy Space Center. It was a bucket list item for both of us, and I couldn’t deny the unspoken disappointment I had started to see in his eyes every time I mentioned going to NASA — or going anywhere far at all. It sucked, it hurt deeply, and I felt like a failure.

I insisted that he bring a friend, something I often did for nearby beach trips or mountain drives. It was how I could process the range of emotions I knew I’d experience without them being on full display before my child. I was willing to foot the extra bill so he could have a full, fun‑filled experience since he is an only child. It was always worth it.

I had three or four panic attacks in the months leading up to that trip. I hyped myself up with affirmations and reassurances that going would be good for us — good for me. By the time we left, I was looking forward to our itinerary. I wasn’t going to not do the fun stuff. The closer we got to Orlando, the more I felt rushes of excitement — or adrenaline I guess it was. We left in the early morning, so the travel time was all daylight. The drive was scenic and serene, and I felt grateful, especially hearing the laughter and excitement from the kids.When we arrived at our resort, I sat for several moments taking in the setting sun over calm water. It was the change I needed.

Next to the exhilaration — and the darts of anxiety from driving over the NASA Causeway Bridge to Kennedy Space Center — I hadn’t imagined a feeling of freedom like the one I had arriving on that island. It was a sight to see. The spacecraft capsules, and the magnitude of the exhibits felt like a generous reward for taking the opportunity to defy fear. I turned into a little nerd right there on that bridge. There was a quiet triumph, and I felt it — it had quieted the fear that haunted me. I equate every milestone of that trip to watching Fantasia ugly cry when she won American Idol. Two different scenarios, but somehow, I won something personal that I hadn’t yet recognized or been able to name.

THE NIGHTMARE

The ride back was the worst part of the trip. We had left Orlando later in the day after a spontaneous decision to visit Universal Studios and the mall, where we spent far more time than planned. That meant most of the drive home was in the evening. I didn’t mind at first — the ride there had been smooth and all highways. But road work on the interstate and heavy vacation traffic caused my GPS to reroute us. I accepted the route without knowing where it would take me — I trusted my GPS (never again). The route took us down the darkest, longest, windiest, woodiest road I think I’ve ever been on. About 90 miles worth. I was so overcome that I cried. I panicked. I prayed frantically and inwardly. I could not let the kids know what was happening to me.

Thankfully, about five or 10 minutes onto that road, the kids fell asleep — a blessing, because the panic was already rushing in. There were no streetlights. There were deer — lots of deer. I had no idea if I was riding through sundown towns. Cars sped around me, likely because I was driving slower in anticipation of a large animal running out in the road.

Immediately I thought I had made a mistake. I shouldn’t have come on this trip. My mind felt like it was crumbling. The serenity and self‑assurance I had felt in Orlando vanished, instantly. Fear gripped me so tightly, and I was spiraling fast. I couldn’t medicate — the drive was too long, and I wouldn’t endanger the kids. I would’ve stopped at the nearest hotel until morning, but there wasn’t one. It was all evergreen trees and darkness. I hadn’t seen a mile marker in miles. I worried about breaking down, about who would help me, about whether there were serial killers out there — and I had only brought one clip. To this day, I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid.

Carrying it home

As I recall that night — what felt like forever coming down that road and through those towns — I remember sensing a presence I recognized that mask my mind. At some point during the panic and chaotic thoughts, there was an inner whisper without a voice, but still recognizable, that said, “Don’t be afraid.” It was like a barrier fell over my mind, similar to a sheet parachuting onto a bed when tossed to spread. I had experienced something similar years before I had my son, before I knew what anxiety and panic attacks were. The first time was much different, and it was the same presence. That intervention saved me, I believe.

Once we made it home, there was a long moment of pause — a realization that God was with me on a journey I honestly didn’t think He would care about. Not that He didn't care about the ordeal, but of all the things my matter just didn't seem like it would be important enough for Him to step in. Besides I was just overreacting - working myself up, right? He had revealed Himself to me again there on that road, in that moment where I needed Him the most. I had done my part to face fear by going on the trip. I guess that’s the meaning of stepping out on faith; and when fear appeared to be winning, the Lord came and rescued me.

That has sat with me since.