The thought of a 13-hour flight in economy is enough to send shivers down the spine of even the most seasoned flyers.
But I’ve always relished long-haul trips, finding them the perfect opportunity to relax and properly switch off – and I think I’ve finally worked out why.
Planes are an unexpectedly perfect environment for people with Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) like me.
I was finally diagnosed with ADHD in 2024, at the age of 32, having suffered with symptoms my whole life.
Throughout my childhood, I was dubbed Dolly Daydream by teachers and parents – I’ve found report cards calling me ‘absent-minded’.
I’m also always losing or forgetting things. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve left a bag, or even suitcase, on the train. I once even left my passport on the plane.
The Daily Mail’s Deputy Travel Editor Hayley Minn, pictured at the airport, says white noise, few distractions and no major decisions mean she loves travelling long haul
This epiphany regarding planes being a safe haven for me came on a recent flight to Kuala Lumpur, when I managed to read The Housemaid from cover to cover just three hours into the journey.
In day-to-day life that would be unthinkable – there are too many distractions.
I can’t even watch TV without reaching for my phone. But on a plane there’s no internet and with it no endless scrolling, no notifications, no temptation to multi-task.
It’s also why I love watching films in the air. I actually take them in, uninterrupted, without any ability to Google ‘Where do I know that actor from?’
For those who are neurodiverse, flights can be soothing. Therapist Sally Baker, from Working On The Body, says ‘Once you’re in your seat, your world shrinks’
Planes also have a calming soundtrack most people don’t notice – the steady white noise and hum of the aircraft.
Plus, with my AirPods in, that background whirr becomes strangely soothing. My mind feels quieter, less busy and I often drift off without effort.
It’s especially welcome after my anxiety levels go through the roof tackling the overwhelming hustle and bustle of the airport.
There’s another, less obvious comfort, too: the complete removal of decision-making.
I usually carry a low-level guilt about everything I should be doing – unanswered emails, unfinished jobs, looming to-do lists.
But on a flight my brain gets to rest – and it turns out I’m not alone in feeling this way.
Therapist Sally Baker, from Working On The Body, tells me: ‘People talk so often about fear of flying but neurodiverse people can get on an aeroplane and be completely in their element.
Once you’re in your seat, your world shrinks. You have one window, one screen and one place to be.’
No wonder planes can feel like a sanctuary for people like me.
