Sometimes, Anxiety Wins

And there’s nothing we can do but just breathe

I knew it would happen — eventually, I would run out of food. To be more accurate: fresh food, which is a necessity for me.

Two weeks ago, I spent an appalling amount of money on groceries so I wouldn’t have to go back in the near future. Ever since that first visit post-lockdown when I found almost every single shelf empty except for the condiment aisle, I’ve been feeling increasing anxiety about grocery shopping.

At the same time, that’s literally the only chance I get to drive my car somewhere and enter a building in which other humans congregate. It’s literally been my only contact with the outside world since March 11th (except for a visit with my brother), and as such, even though it scares me to go there and see all those empty shelves, I also strangely want to be there. It’s the only semi-normal thing in my life anymore.

As social distancing has run on, though, my anxiety has become increasingly harder to manage. The thought of returning to the store became scarier and scarier as our town began limiting the amount of people who were allowed in grocery stores at any given moment.

But there was no avoiding it. I cannot go a day without broccoli.

As social distancing has run on, though, my anxiety has become increasingly harder to manage.

I decided to go last Thursday and was surprised to find myself almost non-functional the entire day. What the hell was wrong with me?

As the afternoon wore on, I became so exhausted I could barely move. I literally had to lie down on my bed for a little while. I decided to postpone my trip to the grocery store until 7PM so I could rest a little longer, but as soon as the thought of the store entered my mind, my heart began racing and I felt a panic attack coming on.

I laid there in bed doing all the tricks and practices I’ve learned from years of therapy. Deep breathing. Journaling. Tapping. Using my stress ball. Knitting.

I was able to control my anxiety enough to keep myself from having a panic attack, thankfully, but I could feel it there just underneath the surface, like when I get on an airplane and have to walk that terrifying mental and emotional tightrope, knowing I could spiral into an uncontrollable panic at any moment.

What the fuck? I kept saying to myself. It’s the grocery store, for god’s sake.

When I arrived at the store, I had to stop four times in the produce section to catch my breath. I was so scared, and kept thinking of movies like Bird Box and World War Z, just waiting for someone to crash into my cart to take the last loaf of bread or to hear the cocking of a rifle as someone indicated the last of the first aid supplies were theirs unless someone wanted to risk a bullet in the abdomen.

A few minutes in, I was boiling hot beneath my thin sweater. I could feel sweat trickle down my back. I was getting damp around my hairline. I went to wipe it away, and caught myself just in time, narrowly avoiding touching my face.

Should I have worn a mask? I wondered. Only two other people in the entire store were wearing one.

When I arrived at the store, I had to stop four times in the produce section to catch my breath.

Oddly, no one seemed to be practicing social distancing. In the middle of the produce department, where the aisles are wide enough to park 6 carts side-by-side, a man cut across, trying to shorten his walking distance to the lettuce, coming so close to me that if I hadn’t stepped aside, we would have collided. Later, in the cereal aisle, a mother was walking in tandem with her two teenaged daughters, both of whom were wearing masks. For some reason, neither of the young girls moved, even though the aisle was clearly not wide enough for four people and the teenager on the outside knocked against me as she passed.

In the parking lot, after loading my groceries into my car, I returned the cart to one of the receptacles. When I turned, a young employee of the store called out a thank you. I smiled, suddenly breathless, and yelled back, “Have a wonderful night!”

Then I got in the car and cried. I didn’t want to go home and be alone again, but I was also so relieved to be leaving the store, because that meant my near-panic attacks were over for the day.

Sunny and I talked on the phone on Wednesday night about the intentions we had set at the last new moon. We both laughed almost hysterically when we read them — mine in particular.

“I want to be a source of light throughout this time,” I read from my notebook. “I want to display confidence and leadership and be an inspiration to others.”

At the time, I had thought I’d write all kinds of amazing, uplifting articles. I thought I would work on my audio collections and give some of them away as a gift to my wonderful readers, friends, and supporters. I thought I would post on Instagram every day — something inspiring, something that might help others get through this.

So yes, it made me laugh to read what I had written a mere two weeks ago. To see how wildly out of reach those intentions feel right now.

I want to display confidence and leadership and be an inspiration to others.

The past week has been unbelievably difficult for me. When the sun comes up, I don’t really want to get out of bed. Though the emotional landscape of my days is wildly different, the rest of my life is exactly the same, day in and day out. I don’t go anywhere except on my daily walks and out into my garden. I don’t see anyone except for my brother and his family.

If I didn’t get out of bed, no one would notice. And for some reason, that’s one of the scariest truths I’ve experienced in this.

But I do it, every day, later than I wish I would. I fling off the blankets and get dressed and go on my walk. And then I do all the things I normally would be doing, only none of it feels like it matters anymore.

Who the hell cares if I do the dishes? Who would notice if I didn’t vacuum? Who cares if I even take a shower every day?

If I didn’t get out of bed, no one would notice. And for some reason, that’s one of the scariest truths I’ve experienced in this.

I try to do a little on social media each week, but…well, I’m sorry, folks, my plans have gone awry. I do like to get on and scroll through and look at other people’s inspirational thoughts. But I have few of my own and even when I feel inspired, I’m just so goddamn tired all the time, I can’t seem to get up enough energy to post something.

Confident leadership and inspiration? That was so two weeks ago.

Now I’m just happy if I can get through a day without having a panic attack.

When I brought the groceries home on Thursday, I didn’t know what to do. In the past week, everyone I know has made major adjustments to their behavior in response to new information about the virus. There’s been talk about quarantining your groceries before bringing them into your house, wiping off everything with disinfectant wipes, mopping your floor after you finish, etc.

Dear gods. I don’t know what is accurate information anymore, but it’s gotten into my head. I washed my hands at least fifteen times while putting away the groceries, and most of the groceries got shoved into the back of the pantry where I won’t touch them again for at least three days.

And oh yeah — I don’t have disinfectant wipes. There are none available at our stores.

All day Friday, I fretted about mistakes I might have made. Did I do this right? Or am I contaminating everything I touch?

On my way out the door for my morning walk, after itching my face, I realized I had just had my keys in my hand — the keys I’d taken to the grocery store and that I had held after touching items in the store.

Fuck.

Did I do this right? Or am I contaminating everything I touch?

Am I supposed to be worrying this much? I didn’t used to until most of my friends told me the drastic measures they have taken in the past week, including wiping down all surfaces with bleach 4–8 times a day, depending on how many people live in their homes and their level of exposure with the outside world.

And yeah, I don’t have any bleach, either. I haven’t used bleach in over ten years. Am I supposed to rethink that particular decision and start using it again?

I don’t know, I don’t know.

And this stillness and quiet, this nonstop nothing…I hate it. Please just let me hear another person’s voice right here from this room. And preferably they could say something like, “Don’t worry about the groceries. You did fine. Fuck the bleach.”

I know I will swing back. I always do.

Though I don’t know when. And it feels impossible right now. Just like with my period, there’s no predicting things anymore. The old markers of my cycles are gone and now I just have to wait and be patient and keep trying to control those impending panic attacks, yet also not fear if one gets by my psychological firewall. Shit happens, after all.

I know I will swing back. I always do.

So, okay…yeah…anxiety is getting the better of me right now. I’m not going to fight it because there’s nothing I can do. For now, this is the new normal.

Sometimes, you see something in yourself that you just can’t quite get to. Yeah, I wanted to be that optimistic, sunny person who posted awesome, inspirational shit on Instagram and sent out cool emails that made people smile, and instead I’m sitting here writing about my anxiety issues while in bed with my messy hair in a bun and dirty clothes on the floor.

But hey, I did take a shower today and I did the dishes and so far…no panic attack. So I’m gonna call today a success, even if I didn’t manage to cheer someone up with my Instagram feed.

There’s always tomorrow.

© Yael Wolfe 2020

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