It’s three a.m.
I jump out of my bed because anxiety decided it wanted to wake me up and make me believe I was going to be late for class. Even though it is a Monday and I do not have class on a Monday. Finally, I talk him into beliving me and he allows me to sleep two more hours before I am awoken again with a sudden fear of being late. I then physically tell myself “Stacie, you’re not late please go back to bed.” That then does nothing because anxiety decided he wanted to drown that out with “well if you’re not going to be late you need to think people hate you.” I then lay in bed worrying if people are going to like me in a couple of hours when the rest of the world wakes up. Thoughts screaming inside my head.
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Hours go by, anxiety attacks flow through me left and right and all I have left to show for it is the tears that stain my pillow.
Finally, he allows me to get out of bed then with all his force he throws everything I need to get done in the next few months in my face. The thing is though he wants them all done today. Pay this bill, write this paper even though it is not due he says. “No time to eat you need you need to get these things done now.” I plead with him by saying I don’t have all the money to pay the bills, he then lashes out. If I can’t get done what he wants done, then nothing at all can be accomplished.
I then lay on my floor sobbing and trying to fight off the third panic attack within ten minutes.
He won, and he knows it.
It’s an hour before work and he has finally allowed me to stop crying. I tell myself push him out of the way you at least need to shower and eat. He is putting up a fight but I finally got unclothed in submerged myself underneath the hot steaming flow of water and sat there and let it run down my face... as if it was going to wash everything off me and make everything okay. I knew the second I got out of the shower he would be there.
Fifteen minutes before I must be at work I get out of the shower and rush to get dressed. He wants me to be upset with myself for being late but at this point in the day I don’t really care. I drive to work as he sits in the passenger seat taunting me. I ignore him and turn the music up to as loud as it could possibly be.
I could still hear his faint voice but it was tolerable for the ten-minute drive.
Work is where he thrives at, constantly having me break down and question myself. He sits there and tells me that people do not like me anymore. That I need to find a new job and new friends. Mainly that I messed everything up. I run to the walk in because he somehow cannot get in there. I lean up against the wall and drop the floor whispering to myself that everything is okay, "I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong."
Work is over and my mind is slowly becoming okay again. I’m not sure where he went but I am enjoying our time apart.
It’s 11 a.m. and he isn’t home yet.
So I decide to get some sleep, but not one second later there he barging through the door telling me awful things...
“You are hated.”
“You messed everything up.”
“You’re not going to amount to anything.”
I fight back, I yell and I scream but he gets louder... He gets so loud to the point where I crack. I lay there and whisper to myself "everything’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay, everything’s going to be okay."
Next thing you know it's 3a.m...
