So, you might be familiar with this picture because I post it a lot in my blog…
And there’s a reason for that. Because, as I mentioned in my last post, my mind doesn’t deal with hassle very well. And there comes a time when I just don’t deal well with hassle at all. I mean… at all. And it gets to the point where I don’t want to go outside. Period. End of discussion.
To illustrate this point, I’m gonna babble inanely about my day yesterday. See, last week I had to refill my prescription for my thyroid medication, but there were no refills left, so they had to call my doctor’s office. Well, the doctor’s office called me and informed me that I needed to come and get my blood levels checked because that’s what one does when one’s thyroid isn’t working properly. What can I do? It needs to be done. So I sighed and made the appointment for yesterday. That gave me the whole weekend to dread the “going out in public” aspect of it. And my mind came up with all kinds of reasons why I didn’t have to go.
Now, bear in mind that not even three months ago, I would have simply got into my car and driven to the doctor’s office without a care in the world. Not a problem. I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I might have twitched at the parking garage because I don’t like parking garages, but that’s about it. But this weekend, it was in the back of my mind that I had to go out there, that I had to deal with people! That I would have to smile and chatter and appear normal and all of that good stuff. Worse, I’d have to drive in traffic and park in a stupid parking garage with its concrete walls that could collapse at any moment! Remember, none of this bothered me a few months ago, and none of this will bother me a few months hence. To alleviate my fears, I figured I’d just have the hubster drive me to the doctor’s office since he works not too far from there. He was cool with that idea.
My husband, dear reader, is a saint. All weekend long he listened to me fret about this silly doctor’s appointment (not really an appointment actually, just going in to have blood drawn). First I was okay with it, then I wasn’t. Then I just wasn’t going, never mind about taking me. Then I was okay. Right up until the morning of the appointment, I waffled back and forth about this. And he wisely nodded and smiled, nodded and smiled. A saint, dear readers, a saint. Of course, it was no skin off if his nose whether I went to the doctor’s or not, I mean it’s literally five blocks from his work he would have been no worse for wear one way or the other. In the end, I went to the stupid appointment, got stuck with needles several times and got blood drawn. Then, because I had to wait for the hubs’s lunch hour, I went and got my hair cut. But honestly. The whole thing stressed me out to no end. I’m still stressed out about it… which is why I’m bothering y’all with it. ^_^
These bouts of severe agoraphobia have hit me on and off my whole life. I really don’t know what causes them… Okay, I’ve figured out what’s caused this particular one. I think that it’s because my lungs aren’t working correctly right now, and I have this crippling fear that I’ll be out and my lungs will stop working and I won’t be able to get home. Rescue inhalers don’t work very well with this particular brand of lung ailment, and the doctors haven’t been able to figure it out. They’re not panic attacks. Last time we checked, I had about 70% lung capacity — though I think that’s gone down lately. Anyway I’m so afraid of being too far away from home and unable to get help that I’m terrified of going anywhere. I’m scared that people will see me not breathing and assume that I’m just “out of breath” because I’m overweight and not stop to help. It’s happened before. Being unable to breathe is pretty terrifying, and I’d rather not breathe in the comfort of my own home than sitting on a bench in the middle of a city somewhere.
But, as you can see, I got over my fear and went to the doctor’s office. I played nice, smiled, and chattered with everyone and no one had a clue that I was secretly terrified the whole time. I got my hair cut and again played nice, smiled and chattered with the stylist — who, by the way, was younger than my youngest daughter. *sob* Such is life though. I’m sure to run into that more and more as time goes on. I’m glad I dressed up for the trip because the salon I got my hair cut at was pretty posh. It didn’t cost me an arm and a leg (I never pay too much for a hair cut), but they were nice and very attentive. They’re also a spa. I might go back whenever we have two nickels to rub together and get the full treatment. They gave me a “gift” of $25 off my next visit because I was a first time customer. Then again, I got a rash on my hand from using the soap in their restroom. Maybe the full treatment wouldn’t be good for me if they perfume all of their produce like that. I’m sure it was the perfume in the soap. The stylist didn’t use any product on my hair because I showed her the rash (it was short lived). I have to be careful about stuff like that. I’m glad they weren’t perming anyone’s hair or my trip to the salon might not have been as pleasant. But it was, and I did well. I was glad to get home again though. I think it’ll be a while before I venture out again, even though nothing happened this past time, that doesn’t prevent my mind from inventing all kinds of wonderful scenarios should I dare to wander too far from my doorstep.