April
23
I woke up this morning, feeling slightly tired and quite
annoyed with the sun coming in through the curtain less windows. I rolled over
a few times, convincing myself that I was still tired. It worked a while
longer. I finally gave in and picked up my phone. I went through the morning
rituals of having an iPhone: game one, game two, reading a quote of the day,
checking texts, checking e-mails, then finally reading my scriptures (a chapter
a day!).
That was when I decided it was time to get up and get going.
Only I didn’t know where I was going to. I’d come up here a
few days early so I could get situated in my new living quarters. That was when
I thought I’d have permanent living quarters when I came up. Instead I was
lucky enough to have a room offered for a few days from a friend. Now I still
had the weight of finding a place, with no budget.
That was when the first one hit me. I could feel the space
closing in around me. I felt like I couldn’t breathe at all. I managed to
gather my toiletries and head down to the only bathroom. I said good morning,
glad I’d traded in my Batman pajama bottoms for regular blue jeans, even though
they pinched my stomach. (And my stomach hates early morning almost as much as
I do, so it was a task added onto the deep breathing.)
Inside the bathroom another little attack threatened to come
at me. I was finding myself short of breath. The small rooms of the house
weren’t helping in regards to finding a happy medium. I managed to get my teeth
brushed and stepped back out into the kitchen. A brief overview of where things
were and what was for breakfast came after. I didn’t think I could stomach
anything right then.
Instead I went back up to my room.
While foraging for my sports bra and undershirt I realized
that attack number three was coming on. I had to sit back, place things out of
my way and try to relax. I found the clothes I needed, and my tennis shoes.
Adjusting my backpack I took out all the things I’d put in for the plane trip
the previous day. I left my wallet, first aid kit, some pens, a few
handkerchiefs and tissues, my iPod and headphones and some cash. I needed to
get out of here.
Adding my sweater on over the top and a scarf I headed
outside. The wind was blowing, which I usually found pleasant. Instead I found
it to be like a vacuum, attempting to take what little breath I had left out of
my body by force. Grabbing my phone out, I struggled with gloves and phone for
a moment. I finally called dad. I couldn’t tell him that I was close to having
a panic attack – that was mom’s department. I did talk with him – about how I
was frustrated with the housing thing, and how I at least had a safe place to
stay for a few days. It was relaxing. Mom beeped through towards the end. I
switched over the call and told her about what was going on.
We discussed how panic attacks weren’t something I thought
dad would understand. Not many
people know that I get them, so it’s hard to
explain and talk about it. I know what people would tell me: it’s all in your
head, just take deep breaths, relax, etc., etc., ect.
The only thing is – I do all of those things and sometimes
they don’t work.
Sometimes the only thing that works is calling someone up
who understands and talking to them.
It always works with mom.
We talked until I reached Walmart (which was a shorter
distance than I’d originally thought). I needed some toothpaste; in case I ran
out of money (which was highly likely) at least I’d be set with the basics. I
went through aisles, trying to calm myself down. I got the toothpaste and held
it tightly. I was grateful I was wearing gloves, my hands were like iron cuffs
around the box. I walked through, going up and down, retracing my steps. I
added some socks, because I think I’d accidentally left behind the majority of work
socks that I had. I also added a pair of flip flops, for going down to the
shower at night. I went through the food and got a box of Fiber One bars,
thinking that I was hungry enough for one. At the checkout I caved and added a
king size Kit Kat – for personal, medicinal reasons.
I went back in, thinking to get a book with listings of
places for rent. Walmart didn’t have any that I could see.
The walk back was filled with more thoughts.
Should I turn around and check out that one place someone
said was available?
Should I walk down to Fred’s?
What was I going to do?
Where was I going to live?
Why did the wind have to be so harsh and constantly in my
face so that I could barely breathe?
I tried to think about a movie and realized that was why
people enjoy TV so much – it takes them away from the small, mundane world that
we live in.
Heading back under the bridge I paused on the sidewalk.
Someone had graffiti-ed the top of the wall on the other side. I took my phone
out and took a picture. Then I held my gloved finger up to the lens, to diffract
light and get a better shot of the words: Love Shouldn’t Be Wasted.
At that moment there were dozens of things in my head that I
could relate to this. Grateful that something could be beautiful I headed back
up to the street. I walked down the one-lane road that turned to dirt soon
after. I walked in the grass on the side so my shoes wouldn’t get muddy.
I came back inside and headed straight up to the room. I
needed a little while to calm down and figure out how I was NOT going to have
more of these anxiety attacks. I had four days before I began work. Four days
in which to house hunt. Four days in which I had to try to get a permanent
place.
Four days to try and not let the panic and anxiety take me
over.
So I decided to let my thoughts come into the world. I
decided to start a blog.
Some entries will be on the day. Some will have more than
one part. Some will be posted days after.
This is for me to try and calm down. To have a way to
breathe without feeling like I might lose all the oxygen in my body.
