A Very Hard, Very Scary First Step
Today, or yesterday rather, as it is now after midnight where I am, I did something that I haven't done in years: I ran an errand on my own.
Perhaps I should rephrase this. I didn't just do one thing that I have not done in years; I did several things I have not done in years. You see, technically I have run errands on my own if you count walking down the street to go to the bank, or walking a couple streets over to go to the drugstore.
Today, however, I walked to a bus stop, which I haven't done in years.
I boarded a bus, which I haven't done in years.
I sat next to a stranger, which I probably haven't done in years.
I sat in a moving vehicle in which I knew nobody, which I haven't done in years.
And, frighteningly, I endured strangers getting waaaaay too close to me as the bus continued to flood with passengers. I have not done this in years and, quite frankly, I completely forgot that personal-space-invasion was even a recurring theme in the bus-riding exprience.
I then exited the bus down town, where I haven't set foot in years.
I made my way to a coffee bar where I had never been before and ordered a crappy cup of coffee. It was a small place, and it looked kind of gross inside, but in a cool way that gave it character. I saw a decent-looking guy there who didn't even notice me, and thus did not speak to me. I sat uncomfortably in the bar and tried not to shake with anxiety as I read some of Let's Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson, who coincidentally has major anxiety disorders like myself. I then left after 20 minutes.
I walked back to the bus stop where I only just caught the bus in time. On the way there, a strange boy said hello to me and I panicked. Strangers don't usually talk to me, especially if they're boys, and this one had unusual eyes. I tried to be polite, but being socially awkward and unable to answer simple questions, I probably offended the boy, and he walked on ahead.
On the ride home I felt strangely disappointed in my trip, perhaps because I ended up seeing high school kids who were friends chatting with each other and having a great time. I thought they were so lucky. When I finally got home to my empty house I suddenly started crying my eyes out for no apparent reason. Maybe it was the stress of the day, or the fact that I hardly talked to anyone while I was out, or maybe because I just didn't want to return to an empty house.
I was very relieved once my parents and brother got home. I was so glad to have someone to tell about this frightening first step which practically ended in a panic attack.
Maybe it's okay that I panicked though. I wasn't expecting to react that way, but maybe the next time I go out it will be a little bit easier. Probably not by much.
Looking back on how stressful it was, I wonder where I found the courage to step outside the door in the first place. Wherever that courage came from, I'm sure glad I had it.
Perhaps I should rephrase this. I didn't just do one thing that I have not done in years; I did several things I have not done in years. You see, technically I have run errands on my own if you count walking down the street to go to the bank, or walking a couple streets over to go to the drugstore.
Today, however, I walked to a bus stop, which I haven't done in years.
I boarded a bus, which I haven't done in years.
I sat next to a stranger, which I probably haven't done in years.
I sat in a moving vehicle in which I knew nobody, which I haven't done in years.
And, frighteningly, I endured strangers getting waaaaay too close to me as the bus continued to flood with passengers. I have not done this in years and, quite frankly, I completely forgot that personal-space-invasion was even a recurring theme in the bus-riding exprience.
I then exited the bus down town, where I haven't set foot in years.
I made my way to a coffee bar where I had never been before and ordered a crappy cup of coffee. It was a small place, and it looked kind of gross inside, but in a cool way that gave it character. I saw a decent-looking guy there who didn't even notice me, and thus did not speak to me. I sat uncomfortably in the bar and tried not to shake with anxiety as I read some of Let's Pretend This Never Happened by Jenny Lawson, who coincidentally has major anxiety disorders like myself. I then left after 20 minutes.
I walked back to the bus stop where I only just caught the bus in time. On the way there, a strange boy said hello to me and I panicked. Strangers don't usually talk to me, especially if they're boys, and this one had unusual eyes. I tried to be polite, but being socially awkward and unable to answer simple questions, I probably offended the boy, and he walked on ahead.
On the ride home I felt strangely disappointed in my trip, perhaps because I ended up seeing high school kids who were friends chatting with each other and having a great time. I thought they were so lucky. When I finally got home to my empty house I suddenly started crying my eyes out for no apparent reason. Maybe it was the stress of the day, or the fact that I hardly talked to anyone while I was out, or maybe because I just didn't want to return to an empty house.
I was very relieved once my parents and brother got home. I was so glad to have someone to tell about this frightening first step which practically ended in a panic attack.
Maybe it's okay that I panicked though. I wasn't expecting to react that way, but maybe the next time I go out it will be a little bit easier. Probably not by much.
Looking back on how stressful it was, I wonder where I found the courage to step outside the door in the first place. Wherever that courage came from, I'm sure glad I had it.
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