I listened to two messages from Sara (one of which was almost as good as a real call), and then actually called her back. I've been seriously phone-avoidant lately, and it's really time to start working the anxiety away... Again. So, I called her and left her a message. Just listening to her message made me feel so much calmer - because she was a total darling and a good reminder that my friends are far less likely to beat me up than I am to think they will. I'm still anxious, but I'm trying to remember that there's no reason to feel guilty for not returning these calls sooner. I don't have to pick up the phone, I don't have to talk, I don't have to talk for a certain amount of time, I don't have to go beyond my own energy, I don't have to sacrifice myself, I don't have to listen to a message right away, return a call right away, or return a call at all. These are people who love me; they will understand. They will call back if they don't hear from me. They will forgive my anxiety, if it even crosses their mind to consider it a transgression.
Called Katia after that. Didn't get her either - she's probably at work. She called last night during this really horrible time period where my brother, (who's really, really cool but doesn't seem to pick up on where other people are, like, ever) over for a visit I didn't know was scheduled, was just this verbal storm heightening my already high anxiety. When the phone rang, my brother jumped up to get it; I groaned. My mom even said, "Check the number" - and I made a joke about how she's catching on, following in my call-screening footsteps. John read the area code, and Mom said, "I don't know it. Just let it go." I took a breath, feeling calmer, and then my brother answered the phone. I know this doesn't seem like a high crime really, but - a, it's not his apartment; b, the two people who live here both made clear they didn't feel like talking to anyone; and c, I was already feeling crazy enough. I hate this because I love the boy, but when his anxiety is high (or something) he's so loud and endlessly verbal (one of the reasons I'm afraid to be on the phone - thinking I won't be able to get off of it), talking and unaware of the other person's existence, except that, if you don't nod and make eye contact and say, "Yeah" every few seconds, he decides you're not listening and gets grumpy. Aygh! So he answered the phone. And he was enormously sweet on the phone; the boy has these professional social skills which are honestly worthy of envy. But I'm banging my head against the couch going, why, why, why, and he's saying, "I'm not sure if she's here right now; let me check," and then he comes over to me and asks if I'm available for a Katia. I say no. I'm not available for myself at the moment. And, then I'm freaked. I feel guilty for not taking the call, I'm so pissed at John for not letting the machine answer, my anxiety is so high, I wonder if she's calling because she's found out about Dixie, and if that's the case, I feel guilty because I didn't call her earlier, and if that's not the case, I'm freaking because here I am having to say it yet again. (I originally didn't have Katia's number; I got it with her most recent letter, but decided I'd still write her about what happened because the calls are hard. I thought I was done with them, but I still haven't told Oshiana - we haven't talked since that first call - and if Katia doesn't know, I need to call her. Plus, two letters to other residents, and a letter to Dixie's sister. All of which makes me feel I'm going to explode from anxiety. And then I still have to wonder - what about my walk today, and Mom asking if I want to do something? I've spent so much time here over the past days. I know I went to the library on Saturday, but other than that I can't even come up with a time I left the apartment. Agh. I think I'll take my anxiety meds, (this is why they cannot have my pills!) take a shower because showers are good, and then if the pills have kicked in and I feel calm enough to handle it, I'll consider going somewhere. Otherwise, I don't need the heart attack. Panic attack. ...Is there a difference?
The session yesterday went far better than Friday's, although we stayed in kind of safe territory. He's re-convincing me (I don't know why I forgot) that my perception is valid, that things were bad when I was growing up, that things were significantly better at Rogers, that things were significantly better than they are now at Rogers, and that it makes sense for me to miss it so, so much. I might go into that more later, but basically it was good. I even looked at him a handful of times. Over the frames of my glasses so he was blurred a little, but still - that was good. I felt much more connected than Friday, and that was part of the reason.
Yeah, ok. So now, everything in my life terrifies me. That's not normal, right? I didn't think so. But the phone and the people and the going out and the staying in... There's some sort of vigil going on at Rogers in mid-April (so soon!) that maybe I might go to... Sara's sending me an invitation; we're supposed to talk more about it. The (way cool, seriously wonderful) art therapist is going to have work out, and apparently Dave is going to talk. I feel seriously weird about it, of course. I want to go, I told Sara I'd visit her, I want to be at Rogers again before everyone I know is gone, and I'd like to be a part of this, I think. But hello, terrifying. And I want to contact Dave, or have Dr. R contact him, or whatever that next thing is before it happens because I do not want the first time I see him to be directly after what's just happened. I can't handle that. I don't know if I can handle any of it. What I wouldn't give to take the doctor with me.
Meds. Meds now. Meds and breathing.