Lavender Indigo

It’s raining outside and I’m lying in my bed after masturbating for the third time. There’s this urge to do it again, but I am convinced it won’t satisfy my need for touch and affection. At this time, everyone from school should be at the party, drinking, having small talk, and pretending to have fun — it’s a hard pass.

I’m not cognisant of how to deal with what’s wrong with me and all I‘ve done so far is pretend that this nagging feeling was not even itching. I’ve accomplished many things in my twenties and could list various milestones that made me proud and content with my hardworking nature. When I set my mind to something, I go for it, and if something seems too harsh, I do not hesitate. It seemed to work well and I never had to reflect on what might be missing in my life, or which aspects of my wounded inner child could be interfering with my adulthood whatsoever.

It was not only until I started my sessions with Dr. Michaela that I realized I had feelings that would haunt me, depleting my energy entirely, and forcing me to deflect them into prospections, goals, and often, idealistic scenarios. You are an idealist, a hopeless romantic. I can’t tell why or when I became this person — perhaps I was born this way. Essentially, I’ve always identified with someone rational, practical, and purely logical. However, I’ve come to realize there are aspects of myself that I’ve worked hard to hide from everyone, including myself, because I was afraid of being judged for something I couldn’t change.

And that is when the hurt came along, all the wounds that were hidden or ignored, the cryouts that have been suppressed, the gut feeling that has been treated as fate — they were always here. Having a panic attack in front of another person put me in a place of extreme vulnerability, in which I felt trapped, exposed, and fragile in the face of someone’s actions, judgment, and care. I can’t stand being taken care of. After this episode, it has been deeply frightening to be haunted by the possibility of another attack, combusting again and biting the dust.

I don’t want to feel vulnerable again. I don't want to expose myself and let my wounds be seen. I can't stand people asking me if I’m okay or what they can do to help, even though we all know there’s nothing they can do to support me — it’s a lost cause. The truth is that I appreciate being in my own company and spending time contemplating my own thoughts. I love doing the things I know I can do and fulfilling my needs with small pleasurable moments. It has always been this way and it will remain as it is.

I can hear Dr. Michaela’s voice asking me the reason why I prefer to live this way, and what this bothersome feeling is telling me; I don’t want to know, yet I am utterly aware of it. I haven’t talked to my mom since I left the hospital, except from when she called me asking me to buy a pair of sunglasses, and my father rarely reaches out. I don’t even have plans to visit them this year, so for now it is just me, myself, and I. I could see Keyla on the weekend, but I refuse to listen to her whining about exes, betrayal, and other insecurities. I sound like a bad friend.

Sometimes I wonder if there are more people out there who feel more like the caterpillar than the butterfly, longing to hide in its cacoon while agonizing over the aching seasonal changes and fearing the moment that’ll have to go out, spread its wings, and explore the unknown. I don’t want to change even though I need to. It’s still raining outside and I’m too lazy to go out and buy food, so I close my eyes and fall asleep instead.

I wake up and notice my stomach growling as if I haven’t eaten anything for days. The raindrops are forming a hazy fog on my window, and the gray atmosphere indicates that the sun didn’t come out. It’s almost six, and the setting sun reminds me that I haven't eaten anything at all today. Sometimes I’m so infatuated that I avoid noting the emptiness within.

I fight with my willingness to stay in bed and finally get up to buy dinner. The closest convenience store is five minutes away so I get my raincoat, my phone, and my shopping bag before heading outside. I don’t even bother fixing my hair or putting cologne because I am going outside. No one here knows me and no one really cares.

The streets are flooded and there is a bit of traffic, unusual for a Saturday evening, yet typical for rainy days. As I walk down the street, I notice a couple holding hands and protecting each other from the mud puddles — they look a bit childish as they laugh while hopping over the puddles as if their world were restrained to that small moment.

I immediately wash that thought off and mentally make my grocery list. Beef, noodles, salad, two chocolate bars, and a box of ice cream. That’s all I need to endure my forlorn Saturday night. Stop being pitiful of yourself. Get over it. When I enter the store, I head over to the meat aisle determined to find the cheapest steak slice, and if I’m not mistaken, there are surely some cuts at a low price at the end of the day.

I choose a brisket cut for a fairly good price, put it in the cart, and walk to a different aisle to find penne noodles, my favorite type, when my eyes meet his flaring hazel glare, aiming at me like a flashlight.

“Sky”, he said cordially.

“Giggs”, I retorted nonchalantly.

He came closer as if he was trying to find something in me, which made me bewildered and extremely uncomfortable as I started to feel his presence closer to me.

“Why didn’t you go to the teachers’ reunion? Is everything okay?”, he asked me while looking deeply into my eyes, aimed to read me between the lines.

“Yes, I felt indisposed and couldn't go.”

“Mm. It was fun, Talisha and I had a great time! So did the other teachers.”

“Great! Good for you!”, I said while forced a bit of excitement.

“Do you usually come to this store? I live nearby and have never seen you here.”

Thank goodness and hopefully you’ll never see me again. “I, um, I was taking a walk and stopped by to buy dinner.”

“Oh, I see.” Then he came even closer and I could feel his breath. I instinctively stepped back, evidencing his closer presence made me uncomfortable. He seemed not to care and stepped further, staring me straight in the eye. “You look terrible! Are you okay?”

I looked at him with a wondering face. I didn’t ask you anything!!! “What do you mean? I look fine!”

“Your disheveled hair and strong odor would say the opposite. Talisha was really worried about you, we… I mean… she was expecting that you would show up eventually.”

“What? Can you please not get too close and respect my personal space? Also, I think my hair and body odor are not up for debate nor are they any of your business!” I roughly uttered the last words.

“Alright! You don’t have to lash out at me every time I try to get closer to you. Why do you hate me so much? Was it something I said or did?”

What? Why is that? I just want to do my groceries and go home, back to my amusing solitude. “I don't hate you. I just don't understand why you're being indelicate and approaching me with a complete disregard for the nature of this relationship.”

“Which would be?”

“Work approximates. I don't recall ever debating on this matter with you.”

“I understand. If you prefer to set a wall between us, I will respect that. I just want you to know that I am truly concerned about you after you blacked out, and want you to be okay. If you ever need to talk about it or need help with anything, I’ll be here.”

“I appreciate your generosity, but I refuse to let you, Talisha, or anyone feel pitiful of me. As I said, I’m doing well and disregard the excessive preoccupation.”

I immediately strayed back to another aisle and did not want to face him at all. I can’t believe he changed from being authoritative and abrasive to compassionate and sorry. What was this even about? Was he feeling remorse for what happened to me? Was Talisha pressuring him to do something about it? Why did they eventually care? Was I extremely miserable?

I left the store without buying the salad and ice cream as I rushed to the cashier to avoid running into him again. I don't know why, but I guess I really hate Samuel. I would never admit it to his face because I simply wanted to not care about him at all, but somehow his attitude deeply annoyed me. Sometimes I feel that I can hide my fears and insecurities from everyone except him, and I am fearful that he might play with them and make me his puppet. I know Samuel likes to be on top of things and I cannot let him take control of what I feel, I cannot let him claim this power.

When I came home, I noticed my head spinning and felt breathless. I clenched onto a wall and supported my body so I would not faint. I started to inhale and exhale and did the other exercises Dr. Michaela recommended whenever I had one of the attacks. The last time I had one was after I had an argument with Samuel. Was he really this toxic?

After a few breaths, I grounded myself and sipped a glass of water. Little by little, my vision was getting clear and I mentally noted the things around me. You are in your apartment, the shopping bag is on the counter and you are sitting on the couch. You left the water jar next to the shopping bag and your TV is standing right in front of you. The coffee table still has that wine stain from two days ago and you promised yourself you were going to clean it. This exercise really helps me ground and stay in the moment so my anxiety won’t convince my body that I’m about to die.

I give up on cooking dinner and get my phone so I can get pizza delivered tonight. I am too exhausted to even get out of the couch. The intense headache shows me I need some rest, but my roaring stomach won’t let me sleep anyway. I am lying down when my phone rings. My mom is calling and I immediately pick it up as she rarely calls me.

“Hi dear, are you doing okay?”, she asks with little concern in her voice.

“Yes, Mom. What happened?”

“Your dad tried to coerce me into funding his gambling again. I don’t know where else I can get money from!”

“How much do you need?”

“Two thousand.”, she says nearly crying, “I know it’s too much but…”

“Okay, Mom, I will transfer it to you.”

“Oh, may the Lord bless you infinitely! I love you!”

“Bye, Mom. Take care.” And I hung up. I’m too tired to think about this or the money I’ve been saving for my Eurotrip. Family should always come first. I’m okay and I know things will work out well.