I know that it’s “all in my head” but that doesn’t change the fact that I can’t control it.
I can’t control when my heart beats so fast I swear you can see it’s movement on my skin. I can’t control when my palms get sweaty and my breathing picks up. I can’t control when my food forces itself back up my throat because my stomach has a storm swirling around it that could sink the greatest of ships.
I can’t “just get over it”.
I can’t just get over it and make that phone call you can make so easily. I have to run through it in my head at least one thousand times with every possibly outcome to be fully prepared and sometimes even that isn’t enough. I can’t simply walk to my car at night with my hands in my pockets because someone could jump out at any moment.
I know that what I did wasn’t “that embarrassing” but in my mind it was humiliating.
A part of me knows that a comment I made in grade seven doesn’t change who I am now or that my entire group of friends isn’t talking about how terrible I am behind my back but that’s just one part of me. The other part, the part where the anxiety is, tells me that what I did in the seventh grade was as humiliating as I feared or that maybe my friends do think I’m terrible. The part where anxiety lives is constantly having me question if maybe this one time, my worries and fear are correct.
So next time someone asks you to order their food for them or make a phone call for them, don’t tell them to “get over it” because they can’t. Don’t roll your eyes, don’t tell them to “stop being so silly” because sometimes the simplest things, like leaving the house or calling your doctor, are the hardest things and when people help us out, it means the world.