Well I went to church… That was a mistake.
For some reason Sundays have become a sort of trigger. It’s not the mention of Sunday or anything, but the minute I wake on Sunday morning, I wish I didn’t. The fact that I was already having panic attacks last night was not a good sign. I knew that, but I was determined to go to church.
I was only there for thirty minutes before my heart started pounding and my palms got sweaty. I saw that as my cue to go for a walk, so I did. I walked a few blocks crying and hyperventilating. When I finally started calming down, I headed on back to the church. That was when I saw my grandma waiting for me by the front door.
Over the years, my grandma has gotten clingy and demanding. When I spiraled out of control a couple years ago and was in the hospital, my grandma wouldn’t let me out of her sight and would not let me say no… To anything. One of the worst things that someone could do when I’m having a bad day, is for them to follow me around and stop doing what they’re supposed to.
Social anxiety disorder is pretty much the fear of what other people think of you. So, when you stop doing what you are doing, follow me around, constantly asking me questions, or tell me how to handle it; it makes me angry and my anxiety so much worse.
I peaked again when I saw my grandma and just wanted to start walking home. When I finally came back in, she began demanding that we just go home or go shopping or something. I told her no five or six times, but she wouldn’t give it up until I just went and sat down.
I ended up making it through the rest of the service with my heart still pounding away and constantly wiping my sweaty palms on my pants. But I made it. We got back to house at one and I just crashed. I got in my truck, parked in a nearby parking lot, and just cried. This is my routine on Sundays now. I just cry most of the day.
I cry for Keen. I cry for the fact that he is somewhere he has never been before. Cry that I don’t wake to his wet nose on my face and him pulling back the covers if I just roll over. Cry because I don’t have him to squeeze when I feel like this. I cry for the frustration that it is just all so unfair!