I could feeling it welling up inside me all evening. The panic. The fear. The fright of people. I wanted to curl into a hole and disappear. I tried to gather myself by taking another shower, shaving, and putting on nice clothes - an outfit that would be more socially inconspicuous. I then stood at the door as Maggie watched me. "I just can't do it, girl," I said of my weekly Tuesday night journey to the grocery store. I just couldn't face all those people. The prying eyes. "Isn't that John's son?" "My, he has gained some weight!" "Isn't he the one in the family that is crazy?" These thoughts play out in my mind paralyzing me to the point of tears.
It is almost 9:00. I am safe. I am home. It feels better to write about those moments as if writing them down disarms the anxiety and panic. I am going to go turn down the air, put on my favorite sleeping shirt and boxer shorts, and curl up with Maggie as I listen to tonight's nightly broadcast on WHAS out of Louisville. Good night.