Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
 And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings…

For many, summer means one thing: holidays. A chance to unwind, reconnect, or explore. But for a surprisingly large number of people, the thought of flying can trigger intense fear. And every year, as people prepare to leave this island for the sun-soaked promise of somewhere else, the topic resurfaces—often quietly, often with embarrassment.

The last time I wrote about fear of flying, I received a remarkable number of messages. But here’s the twist: over half the people who came to me weren’t afraid of flying at all.

Let me explain.

What many call a “fear of flying” is, more often than not, a fear of panic. It’s a response to the physical and psychological sensation of being enclosed, out of control, and unable to escape—a perfect cocktail of triggers that activate the brain’s internal security officer: the amygdala.

The amygdala is part of the brain responsible for initiating the Fight or Flight response. It doesn’t stop to think. It doesn’t analyse air traffic reports or engineering data. It simply pattern-matches: loud noises, crowds, confined spaces, unfamiliar routines. For our ancestors, these were life-threatening scenarios. And while flying at 35,000 feet in a climate-controlled cabin is not inherently dangerous, our brains are still wired for survival—not logic.

Panic attacks often feel like they come from nowhere. But they don’t. They come from a complex mix of factors—some obvious, others hidden. Hyperventilation is one such factor: when we take in too much oxygen and not enough carbon dioxide, it can tip the body into a state of physiological alarm. Add to that a build-up of stress—whether internal, external, or a mix of both—and you create the perfect conditions for a fear spiral.

Here’s where it gets more complicated. If someone has a panic attack on a plane, they may leave that flight feeling deeply unsettled, even traumatised. The next time they fly, the memory of that event primes the brain to expect another attack. Over time, this expectation hardens into a phobia. It becomes not just a fear of flying, but a fear of fear itself.

I’ve sat on countless flights without a flicker of discomfort, while the person beside me quietly endures a rising sense of dread. The good news is this: there are effective, fast-working interventions that can help most people reframe and overcome this kind of fear. It doesn’t have to be a lifelong limitation.

Living on an island should not mean living in isolation. The ability to travel freely, without dread or avoidance, is within reach for most people—with the right tools and guidance.

So this summer, whether you're heading to Lisbon or Larnaca, don’t let fear keep you grounded.

Enjoy your flight.