Flying Nightmare

In the USA planning a flight to visit loved ones involves one of my worse nightmares.  To get into the airport I had to pass through airport security.  I find having all my luggage scanned is doable.  I have to remember not to have my battery sitting in a charger or I may have all my luggage gone through searching for a nonexistent bomb.  Annoying but doable.  Now they added the Pat Down for the select few.  I don't know which evil abuser thought up this diabolic method to humiliate the average flier. I talked it over with KavinCoach shortly after they instigated this new cruelty.  I wasn't sure how I would react as an integrated person. I was worried as my flight time neared.  My sleeping dropped below 4 hours of sleep each night.  Less than three hours the night of the flight.  I really dislike being touched by people I don't know.  I avoid malls, gang dark rooms, big crowds, basically anywhere people might bump into me accidentally.  The very thought of a Pat Down by some stranger made me queasy.  Unfortunately, flying is a necessary evil for an extended stay visiting one of my daughters.  The time moved forward along with the line at the airport.  I had all my stuff scanned.  Then I had to stand with my arms up for the visual frisking.  UGH.  Bad.  But I was able to keep going.  Then I was picked.  In my mind I am rehearsing the idea that the person doing the Pat Down is not the evil abuser that thought of this diabolical procedure just a person doing their job.  I stood with my arms out.  A nice soft spoken lady explained kindly what she was going to do.  Then she patted down my entire body that was covered by my clothes.  I tried dissociating. That didn't work. I held very still.  She was quick about her work.  Then walked away.  I stood there trying to gather my thoughts.  As I put on my sandals, I started to cry.  (Crying is rare for me.)  The tears rolled down my face while I put my computer back in its case.  Repacked my carry on luggage.  The tears kept rolling down my face as I walked towards the gate.  I sat for awhile before picking up my boarding pass.  The Pat Down was as bad as I had nightmares had predicted.  It really did suck.  The lady that did it seemed no more thrilled than I was but she at least had a choice to get another job.  If I wanted to fly, I had to submit myself to this humiliation.  Once the tears stopped falling I felt calm.  Then I boarded the plane.  I was one of the last to board.  There was only one seat left on the plane and the stewardess said there was no room for my luggage.  I wouldn't give it to her to check in.  I walked away like I was deaf.  (Partially am.)  Close to my seat there was one overhead spot for my carry one.  A much nicer flight attendant held my book and water while I hoisted in over my head.  Squeezed into my seat.  I made it.  I made it on to the flight.  I didn't like crying.  BUT I didn't freak out completely.  I didn't throw up.  I did it without being able to switch like I would have done before integration.  It was tough.  But I did it.  Every challenge and curve ball that came my way I found a way to solve the problems and keep going.  I am still not over the moon about the knowledge this will probably happen on my flight home but it is not impossible.  But like my sister says, "I would like to do it with more grace."