Walk Away

He said he’d be up late. He said the door was always open; the invite was on the table, any time. I knew it was dangerous ground, but I walked it anyway. I found myself stranded, a common occurrence for me. I had negotiated with a friend that she would drop me off if I went with her to a bar just before for a couple of hours. When I called he was sleeping, so much for staying up late. He picked me up and we went back to his place.
I had been having insomnia for a while. My mind was never still, never calm these days. Something was always eating at me. Lying down to go to sleep was often accompanied with a panic attack. My heart thumped the inside of my chest so hard my sternum ached. My body was shaking, there was a hard lump in the back of my throat and I felt sick to my stomach. My paranoia kept me awake. I always thought someone was looking through my window; someone was trying to get in the front door or climbing up the balcony. Not to mention that my insecurities were beginning to eat me alive.

So as we lay there in bed, I tried to fall asleep. I slept at the very edge of the bed, facing away. He scooted closer and put his arm across me. I didn’t move. I tried not to breathe. He caressed my arm, then my stomach. I was trying to pretend to sleep through an oncoming panic attack. I could almost hear my heart pounding, I’m sure he could too. I’m sure he thought it was cute. I felt sick to my stomach. It became all too clear to me what I thought of this situation. I wondered why I was there, why did I do this to myself? My frustration with myself was almost violent. I wanted to yank out my hair. I wanted to step outside of myself to give me a good slap in the face. I was screaming in my head. He moved closer and I still didn’t move, still didn’t breathe. In my head I was screaming “PLEASE STOP”, but I couldn’t make myself form the words. I never could. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, tried to pretend I was somewhere else. He started to rub my back and I know he could feel my heart pounding. I know he wanted me to turn around. I could feel him lean up over me and pull my hair away from my face, I still pretended to sleep. He pulled my shoulder towards him. He lifted me up and pulled me closer to him. I glanced back at him and rolled back over. No expression on my face. I think I never had an expression on my face when I was in that spot.

I’m not sure I ever went to sleep that night. I just wondered why I torture myself. Why had I become so incapacitated?