Don’t tell me life is full of coincidences. Don’t convince me that coincidences exist.
Because you literally cannot look me in the eye and tell me that weird things strangely happen just by the stroke of “accident.”
You can’t tell me that is was a coincidence that in church the only two seats that were available for my mom and I was in the row in front of Him.
You can’t tell me that that’s a coincidence.
Because it’s too damn connected to be a coincidence.
Of all the seats. Of all the people.
No it’s not a coincidence.
It’s a joke.
A sick joke.
Especially with my anxiety.
Ok so I’m not sure if any of you have gone to church while they’re holding a graduation service. But if you have, you know that it’s packed. If you don’t come early, you don’t get a seat. If you don’t reserve a seat, you don’t get a seat.
I hate big crowds.
My anxiety doesn’t like them, I don’t like them.
I feel like a thousand of eyes are on me and they’re just congesting my sense of personal space.
My heart is racing and it feels like I can’t breathe.
Something else gives me that feeling, or should I say someone else.
Sorry, I’m kind of rushing the story.
So, I find my mom and I tell her that we should go upstairs for seats, because someone said there were seats available upstairs.
It was a half lie.
Half, because when we got up there guess what, it was packed.
There were like a few empty seats between rows.
This is what I don’t get.
When people just sit at the end of the row while there are other vacant seats in the row, in the middle, but you would have to ask the people at the end of the row to get up to get to that middle seat. It’s exasperating.
Now times that by the whole room. Yep, the whole place had seats in the middle of the row that you had to ask someone to get up to get to the seats.
- Little Public Service Announcement
- If you’re in a place that’s packed please sit next to a stranger, don’t sit at the end of a row, unless the row is filled. Because some people would gladly like that vacant seat, but they can’t get to it because said people are too shy to ask you to get up.
- Sincerely, a Girl with Anxiety.
Thank goodness that my mom was with me, because without her I would have just lost it. So my mom looked for seats and I saw these three vacant seats and I thought perfect. I point to the seats and tell my mom.
2 seconds later I notice something; someone.
But it was too late, my mom was already asking the person at the end of the row to get up and my heart was already beating fast and I could barely breathe. I don’t know whether this set of actions were due to my anxiety or Him. I actually think they were a combination of both.
I literally sat in front of him.
In front of him.
I could hear him laugh. I could hear his voice. I could hear his conversation.
He could literally be looking at the back of my head and I wouldn’t even know. He could be staring at me and I wouldn’t even know. His friends could be staring at me and I wouldn’t even know. He could be looking at me while I glanced at my phone and texted all of my friends “My life is ending,” and I wouldn’t even know. He could be looking at me as I combed through my hair 50 different times and I wouldn’t even know.
And that messed me up. It progressed my anxiety, it didn’t just progress my anxiety, it made it unstoppable. I didn’t even know what was going on, who was speaking at church, who was doing the welcome, what song we were singing. I couldn’t even pay attention. Because his voice was haunting me and it was all around me and my heart was beating through my ears.
I couldn’t do this.
I couldn’t succumb to this for an hour.
I couldn’t even do this for 10 minutes.
I don’t care if I looked like a wimp. I don’t care if my next set of actions were seen as weak, because I mentally and emotionally could not stay in that seat. I made the next decision that I made for my health and for my heart.
Let me just say this, thank the Lord for the mom that He gave me.
I literally made my mom sit upstairs even though she wanted to stay downstairs and stand. But she went with me. And when I asked her if there were any seats next to anyone we knew downstairs she said “No there aren’t any downstairs.”
At first I thought, I was hopeless. that I actually had to succumb to sitting there.
But then she said “Do you want to go check? Do you want to go back downstairs?” And my mom literally became my hero in that moment. She didn’t question me, she didn’t look pissed off that I literally brought her upstairs with me and brought her back downstairs, even though we had perfectly “Ok” seats upstairs. (Ok as in actual church seats, you’ll know why I said actual seats in a few)
So I went back downstairs with my mom.
But as I walked to the stairs I felt all these eyes on me but I kept walking. Because I chose the perfect moment to get up during prayer. But I couldn’t stop walking because I already asked the person at the end of the row to get up for me. But I wasn’t going to stand still like an idiot.
So I walked really fast.
But that didn’t help my cause. Because as I said before I felt a thousand eyes on me. But most importantly, I felt his eyes I me. I don’t know why, because I know that he could care less. But, of course I couldn’t stop the feeling.
So in a short conclusion, my mom and I went downstairs, and we had to go to this overflow room. The room is just where the church sometimes has potlucks.
Now you see why I said actual church seats? We were in a room where we had to watch a projection screen of the church service. We had perfectly ok church seats upstairs. Yet, my mom didn’t even question me. She wasn’t mad at me. Whenever I asked her if we could sit somewhere else she just agreed.
So I mentioned that I texted my friends during this whole thing. Well, when they replied I actually had to tell them something. I didn’t tell 2 of the friends what actually happened, because they wouldn’t really understand. But, one of my friends, I told her and she understood.
She didn’t just understand, she gave me advice. She didn’t question my anxiety. She helped me through it.
And she is actually the first person, apart from the blogging world, that I’ve told about my anxiety.
She helped me through it and she helped me realize that he is not who I used to picture him to be.
I figured out, a long time ago, that he wasn’t who I pictured to be.
You know this charming guy who would one day realize his feelings for me and tell me and we would live happily ever after, for the most part.
Ok I didn’t actually picture it like that. But, I always thought that he could redeem himself. That he could return to the past him and act nice and sweet again.
But, even if that did happen, it wouldn’t help my cause.
Because he gives me anxiety.
He doesn’t help my mental health.
I try so hard to stay mentally strong and healthy, and the progression of getting over him has made me strong, but for it to keep going on and on and on just makes me exhausted.
I’ve been trying to get over him for the past 2 years. I’d like to say that I’m doing better and I’m a better person getting over him than I was 2 years ago. But, all in all, I’m still not over him. I probably never will be and I’m ok with that.
But I’m not ok that this keeps happening. I never really get my sense of closure from all of this. This really needs to end. Because at this point, it’s ridiculous. I mean what else do I have to learn from this?
No, it’s not a coincidence, it’s a fact that we go to the same church. We’re going to see each other. But, it’s like he still has this effect over me. I can’t blame him. But this whole thing is just ridiculous.
Especially with my anxiety.
But, the funny thing is that whenever I see him… I don’t feel happy anymore, I don’t see a future “something” in his eyes, I don’t laugh at him, I can’t smile at him, I can’t look him in the eye.
All I can do is run away and ignore him and let my heart have its palpitations and let my mind race and sweat and breathe unevenly and feel horrible.
And I can’t believe I didn’t notice this earlier, but that’s what anxiety makes me feels like.
My friend called him my “Stressor.”
That’s where all the pieces fit together. He gives me anxiety. He gives me more anxiety than getting together in a group with classmates I don’t know, but not worse than giving a presentation (because nothing can beat that). I hate my anxiety. I’ve accepted it, it’s apart of me, but I hate it. I hate that it makes me feel inferior and makes me lack confidence.
So why would I go chasing after my anxiety? Why would I go pining after him?
It wouldn’t make sense.
I don’t know what other non-coincidences I’m going to be running into, but I’d like to think that no matter what I’m going to take the right path for my anxiety, and for myself.