What Happened When I Chose Adventure Over Anxiety

I no longer have the same recurring dream that I had for a long time, where I’m at the Festival of Imagination, and I’m so, so happy. I always think that I have finally made it there, and I’m so happy about that. And then I wake up, and I know it was just an illusion. Even if the happiness lingers. 

No, I have something better now. Because this year, finally, I was able to go to the Festival of Imagination. And it was even better than my dreams. 

But it didn’t look that way in the beginning. I was so scared that I thought I was making a mistake for sure. If I hadn’t already arranged for accommodation with my friend and didn’t want to bail out on her, I would definitely have canceled it. And what a pity that would have been! 

The week before, I had tremendous anxiety. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go at all. I thought I would hate it. That I would have a mental breakdown. That I would feel terrible there. 

And when I arrived, it seemed that my blackest predictions had come true. I was so anxious to sleep in the shared room, with a window over the entrance to the building where people come and go (and are noisy). With just one electric socket that was over my bed, so my friend would have to reach over my head to plug her phone in. I had a panic attack every time I lay down to sleep, which isn’t very conducive to actually falling asleep. I had to get up every time and walk around the room. But I managed to wall off the panic and lay down and fall asleep without a problem. 

But the next morning I woke up at 5 AM and was feeling sick. Caffeine didn’t work. I went for a walk, but it was terrible. Then I went to the hotel where the convention was taking place, and I felt even more terrible. And to make matters worse, I realized none of my friends were in attendance this year. I didn’t know anyone except my roommate. I wanted to go home. 

I have even looked up the transport to go home that very day. But I hesitated. And I used my emergency meds, those I don’t use very often because they give me insomnia for days after. And suddenly, I felt calm. Then I felt good. Then I felt awesome. And then I discovered my friends had arrived unexpectedly, and I didn’t look back. 

The meds helped on the first terrible day, but the rest of the festival, it was pure convention happiness. Every day, I shed a little of the mental stiffness that goes with the mundane life, and was more energetic, more outgoing, more playful, more relaxed. 

I attended lectures about traveling through Southeast Asia, and I went to the teahouse with the speakers afterwards and talked about their travels. I went to presentations about new books and series, and made notes. I went to playful workshops where we raced with handmade paper planes or played games. I attended an improvisation theatre workshop. I talked with my friends, and their friends, and friends of their friends. 

And I had fun. Oh, how much fun. 

When the time to go approached, I discovered we had booked a one night longer stay than we intended by mistake, and I decided to stay a day longer. My roommate went home a day earlier, so I had the room to myself. And then the time to go home arrived. But I wanted to attend a tea tasting workshop and a talk show in the evening. So, five minutes before the last bus home departed, I asked my friend for a contact for her friend who drove from the convention to Prague late every evening, and I arranged transport with him. The last bus came and went without me, and I relied on this stranger I had never seen in my life. 

I attended the tea workshop. I went to the late-night talk show. And then, finally, I met up with my new friend and went home. I fell asleep in the car, tired after many days of adventure. 

And I no longer had the recurring dream. I didn’t need it, because I have made it a reality.

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