[Anxiety] makes others feel as you might when a drowning man holds on to you. You want to save him, but you know he will strangle you with his panic.— Anais Nin
I want to go into my bedroom and wake Ryan up, beg him to stay up with me — to stay home with me tomorrow because I can’t imagine how I will get through a whole day by myself.
I could do that. He would do it for me in a single heartbeat; he’s done it before. But interrupting real life is not a healthy way to deal with my anxiety, nor is it a viable long-term option.
Sunday nights are the worst. They bring out the biggest panic attacks as I face down the next five days — sometimes full and sometimes empty — and realize I have to get through a good portion of each one alone. I don’t mind being alone, really, which I know sounds stupid given that I am currently terrified of being alone. No, I am not afraid of being alone — I like my solitude because it allows me to page through books, crank the music and dance in my underwear, plan my plans and list my lists, be alone with my ideas. I am not a stranger to myself and like to keep my own company. What I am really afraid of is that the next time a tidal wave of fear washes over me, I will happen to be alone. Even now, I’m dealing with this panic attack alone, but Ryan is in the next room, asleep, being my safety net.
When he’s at work, I don’t have a safety net. I cannot call him and let him talk me down from the ledge for an hour every other day when he’s already in a time crunch at work as it is. Plus, the phone terrifies me, paralyzes me, when I am like this. And there is no one else. I’ve lived here a year and a half, and I have no friends within a thirty mile radius that I could keep in the back of my mind as a pinch hitter in case things get really rough. I have friends, but none here. I am alone here, a minority in a gray and unforgiving city filled with crumbling buildings. I don’t know a single neighbor’s name. Most of them exchange polite and disinterested small talk on the elevators, but a few are openly hostile and seem to view me as an outsider.
I am all alone in this city, and every Sunday night when I face that reality again, I feel terrified.
