When you see a person act outside of what you consider normal, do you judge or help them? How does an adult who grew up in the middle of a world not conditioned for her behave? How does bullying affect adulthood?
Having anxiety and an inability to...
The alarm sounds. Startled, I open my eyes. I do not remember exactly what I was dreaming, but it would be nothing good, another post-traumatic stress dream, as usual. There were many triggers last night, so no wonder.
I do not remember everything that happened last night, only fragments. I cannot put the story together from beginning to end, but there is residual anguish in my chest. Whatever it is, it will not be anything positive.
I gradually release my tight grip, unfolding my fingers individually. I see the mark of my nails on the palm, and I try to level my breathing and locate what day it is.
Tuesday. I am thrilled since it is something different! A light day at work. Immediately, my anxiety subsides a bit, and I have a little more hope of getting out of bed and not crawling my way of it as I usually do.
On Tuesdays, I have to take some reports to the city. For the task, I appreciate taking the ferry because it means a longer walk, more time in the fresh air, and a simple transaction at an office downtown. Deliver, sign, and get out of there, which allows me to explore a bit of the city until I take the receipt to the office.
I wear a simple, comfortable outfit: light blue jeans, a white blouse, a black jacket, and sensible sneakers. I have to walk. I do not put in much effort with my hair. It never collaborates and has already given up. I look in the mirror, and as I already told you, I try to go for a look like Dakota Johnson in her photos captured by paparazzi walking through Los Angeles. Something like the girl next door, but elegant. However, I am more like the homeless man on the sidewalk.
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I take my scarf, put on my bag, grab my keys, and say goodbye to Sky. My mother is still sleeping. I go my way. The streets still lack movement. Things start slowly here. There are no early morning businesses in the commercial area before 9 am. The way to the ferry is pleasant, with a morning breeze that I need to refresh my face and the solitude to walk, accompanied by my thoughts, to get a better grip on the day.
I always plan my activities and strategize how to achieve them. I detail systematically: go to the cabstand when getting off the ferry. Get to the center. Fifth floor, at reception, ask for Mery, deliver documents, sign the form, and bring a copy. Then I am free. It helps me to have better control of the situation and reduce my anxiety.
However, my fatalistic mind always reminds me of all that could go wrong. It is easier to anticipate bad outcomes than positive ones.
Although it is just a regular weekly routine, I cannot help but be concerned about all the potential mishaps.
What happens if the taxi I am in has a terrible accident? Imagine if, God forbid, the ferry I am aboard starts sinking. What happens if, in an unfortunate twist of fate, the power goes out while I am in an elevator?
These thoughts constantly torment my mind and fill me with restlessness. And let's not forget the possibility of running out of money during my travels and not being able to return home! Just thinking about it gives me chills. My last worry gives me a strong hunch, causing me to check my wallet repeatedly with anxiety.
