Why Can’t You be Normal??


Let me start off by saying my husband is really NOT an asshole. I promise. Like most men, he just lacks the “think before you speak” gene. With that being said, I am not going to continue bitching as always. Tonight’s entry is slightly different than normal because instead of talking about delusions and hallucinations I’m going to talk a little about the anxiety that probably got me here in the first place.

Today the husband and I went to his little sister’s birthday party. I’m not going to lie I didn’t want to go AT ALL! Don’t get me wrong, I really do love his little sister. She’s funny, she’s sweet and she’s slightly misunderstood. His little brother is probably the funniest kid I have ever met or at least tied with another riot named Bre. (check it out Bre you got a shout out!) Anywho, Bottom line is I don’t dislike any of his family members that were attending this birthday party. Well, maybe his step dad does irk me quite thoroughly, but that’s a whole other story.. which I will probably reference here.

So, David wakes me up at noon (yep I finally slept for 4 hours or so). He tells me to get ready because we are going to Golden Corral. If you have ever been to a Golden Corral you know it’s a HUGE buffet type restaurant and it is ALWAYS busy. Keep in mind this is on a Sunday (a common day for church goers to go out for a big lunch with their families) at 1 O’clock in the afternoon. I hurry up and get ready all the while constantly going over everything again and again that could go wrong. What if David leaves me alone with them? What if I drop my plate? What if I throw up everywhere? What if I burp? Will they be watching everything I eat? What if they blame my weight on this one meal they witness? What if they take pictures? Will they get me in it? Will they post it on Facebook? What if they do? Will my Ex be able to find it? Will he figure out where I live? Will he try to kill me? What if, what if, what if, What if???? It’s seriously a never ending process.. David joked about getting up and asking for a steak for me, he knows I love it and also knows I will NOT get up and ask for it not because I am lazy, It’s because I’m thinking the whole time what if I say it wrong? What if the person serving it can’t hear or understand me and I have to repeat it? What if I drop it when he hands it to me? What if I trip and fall on my face when going back to the table? Then David finished his plate and waited for me, loudly exclaiming that he was waiting for me because I don’t like to go up alone. In panic mode, you think everyone is noticing your inner freak out. Not one person said a word about him waiting for me or asking if I wanted him to get me a steak. Maybe they didn’t say anything because they just think I’m a fat lazy bitch or maybe they honestly didn’t notice my struggle. I nervously laughed and told him to go ahead and get another plate and I would go get one in a minute. I sat there pushing around the food left in front of me with a fork and tried to engage in conversation but I couldn’t. I just knew everyone was watching me (Now, I’m sure they weren’t). All I could think about was what if David brings me a plate? What would people think? Oh this fat ass is just too big to get up and get her own, so poor David has to wait on her hand and foot? Do they think I don’t do anything for him at all? I stared blankly at them, I occasionally nodded in agreement or tried to chime in with an “I know, right?” but I was unsuccessful. I just know they must think I’m so weird or “not all there” but I can’t turn off my brain long enough to have a conversation in a setting like that. My stomach was so upset during my panic that I had to force myself to get a second plate and eat it just to show that I wasn’t ungrateful for the nice meal. Then to my horror the waitress came back to give his little sister her cake and spoke to me directly about a refill on my drink. All eyes turned towards me (of course I would sit right next to the birthday girl. Where I could see the exit and right on the isle where I could make a run for it if I needed to). I just nodded and the attention went back to her. Cameras seemed to materialize in  the hands of all the guests and the real fear sank in. I tried to scoot over a little as to avoid being captured next to her, when all of the sudden I hear David’s step dad’s voice say “make sure Moe’s not in the picture.” He wasn’t trying to be rude or upset me, but I saw a smile streak across Davids older sister who must have seen my little break down the last time he caught me on camera and posted it on facebook. I felt my cheek redden and the small blotchy hives spread across my body. Here we go.

“only a few more minutes and we get to go home.” I just kept repeating it in my head trying to calm myself or at least appear calm. Then before I know it, David is agreeing to go to the mall afterwards.

What a terrifying place. Small, crowded stores, huge groups of people, plenty of opportunities to make a fool of myself. We went and I tried to keep a smile. I was clinging to David for dear life and again, I’m sure everyone noticed. After the mall we finally came home.

I changed in to my trusty sweat pants, threw my hair up and took off my bra and smoked a cigarette. This calmed me down quite a bit. I started reading a book Emo gave me entitled “From Panic to Power.” -ironic isn’t it?  About an hour went by and the queasy feeling went away. I told David I was starting to get hungry and he just looked at me. Then he said the words no one, especially someone dealing with mental issues and constantly fearing they are losing their sanity, wants to hear come out of their husbands mouth.

“Well if you would have got up and got food like a normal person, you wouldn’t be hungry.”

Those words stabbed right into my gut and I went to the bedroom and burst into tears. I want to be “normal,” I don’t know why I am the way I am, but damn it, I just am. =(


Side note: David did later apologize, saying that he knows I can’t help it and he just wants me to be “better.” He didn’t help his case much by suggesting I just go get drunk.

Men: put your foot in your mouth before you say stupid shit.


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