Yesterday the boy and I went out with friends to say goodbye to one of our old drinking haunts in the city we all went to University at as it was moving location.
All was going fine, we had a seat for each of us at a big table, we arrived early, there weren’t many people there initially, we were all having a good time.
I don’t know what triggered it, but as you can guess I got into a state of anxiety.
If I had to hazard a guess at what caused it, I would say it was when half the group left to go to the club area upstairs to dance, leaving three of us including me downstairs, meaning the seats that had been vacated were probably going to be taken.
Which was freaking me out as I would feel claustrophobic, I would feel self conscious and insecure being around strangers and I was scared most of all that a stranger might start talking to me.
Seriously, I was petrified by that.
Let’s just mull over that. I was scared someone would talk to me.
Because if someone was to talk to me, I would feel like everyone was staring at me, waiting for a response, and I knew I would stammer, and be unsure of what to say, and I would say anything to make the attention go away.
I would be a rubbish spy as I would give all the secrets away just to have them leave me alone.
The other thing that happened was I had lost my voice and needed a drink, so I asked the boy to get me one as my anxiety meant I couldn’t go up to a crowded bar and order a drink as I would be around people (who may talk to me!) and I would be so nervous about ordering a drink that more often then not the bar person mishears me and I end up with a completely different drink to the one I wanted and I am too pathetic to correct them.
Except the boy didn’t realise the seriousness of the situation and although he said he would he continued talking to our friends and I was getting more and more worked up, desperate for a drink, feeling crowded and overwhelmed, hot, bothered, scared, nervous, in pain in my throat, not being able to talk which would have left me vulnerable to strangers wanting to start up a conversation with me and I was feeling scared.
Then the boy left to get our drinks and then I started getting worked up because I was with a friend who I love dearly as a friend, but we are both on the shy and quiet end of the scale which makes easy conversation difficult and I was getting panicked because I thought that he would think I am a weirdo, or rude, or boring, or crap, and to be fair my throat did hurt and I felt the panic rise and rise and rise and rise and by the time the boy came back I was at critical point which meant all I could do was run away (I am very much the ‘flight’ in the case of fight or flight).
I was hyperventilating.
The boy and I went for a walk around the block. I was feeling so crap because I was about to end the night badly, I was about to ruin the evening because my stupid broken mind had betrayed me.
We left soon after that. We went home quickly in a taxi. The boy went straight up to the bedroom and was in bed not talking to me and turned on his side. I knew he was in a bad way, because of me.
I climbed into bed and turned off the light and could feel the emotions of the boy seeping into me, and I felt so low, so down, and I think I was about to cry myself to sleep.
The boy then reached his arm over and half hugged/half stroked me. I was so pathetically grateful for this sign of affection as it made me feel forgiven for being a complete mental f*** up.
(By the way I would never use that sort of language to describe someone else with mental health difficulties, it is just myself I reserve the hate and bile for).
We talked, and I told him that things are not going to change overnight but I am on the path to better mental health. I just feel like we have had this conversation and this promise too many times before.
I feel like I have been in an impossible maze for the last few years, and had reached the point where I was just trapped in a corner/dead end with no way out. Now I feel a bit more optimistic. I feel like I am still far from the centre of the maze, but that I am turning the right corners.
Oh No, I just said ‘turned a corner’, I vowed never to say that. Boooo!
I need to get better, because quite frankly it is exhausting hating myself as much as I do.