Abigail M. Schilling

I wove the library a very lengthy, detailed yarn about how I returned a library book ("Two Saturdays ago! I remember I was on my phone when I did it!") and I swear I did, but here is the book. Sitting in my library bag by the door.

On Saturday I had a near anxiety attack when all my anxiety triggers combined into a Syndrome-like Attack. I was driving (trigger) my mom's car (trigger) with my mom (trigger), and it's a smaller car (trigger), so when this douchebag started TAILING ME all I could see was the grill of his big, ugly SUV in my rear view mirror. (Trigger.) I'm usually good with those types, I just slow down to a mile under the speed limit and taunt them. But since I was out of my comfort zone in the small car, I didn't even try to taunt him. I just tried to not get hit by him. When we arrive at a unprotected green where we were both turning left, I pulled into the intersection and then waited while an old lady started to cross the street. He starts HONKING while she is still IN THE STREET. That's when I started sobbing. When she was about one third across the street--not to the halfway median, but close enough that a car could maybe pass--he whipped around me to make the left turn.

I stuck my hand out the window to flip him off real good.

Of course, because of the panic attack, I couldn't quite achieve full posture, so it looked more like this:

Managing to feel embarrassed on top of everything else, I pulled through the turn, where I ended up right beside him. (Hey, douchebag, see how you go NOWHERE faster?) His window was down so I yelled, at the top of my lungs:

"YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE!!!!!"

That's when my mom started to panic.

Mom: Pull over the car! You are blinded with rage!
Me: WHAT? HE SHOULD BE IN JAIL. (Still sobbing.)
Mom: Pull over the car. You never should do stuff like that.
Me: I HATE HIM.
Mom: What if he had pulled over and started yelling back at you?
Me: I WANTED HIM TO. THEN THE COPS WOULD HAVE COME AND HE WOULD HAVE PAID.
Mom: What if he had a gun?
Me: I DON'T CARE!!!!!!!!

Then I cried a lot about how he was tailing me and about how I don't want to be scared of driving, but I am, and how I don't want to be scared of her, but I am, and it was all very traumatic.

That's also the first time I've ever flipped anyone off while driving or yelled at another driver. I tend to react with aggressive driving, taunting, or giving the benefit of the doubt. This was new for me. It would have felt good if he had actually suffered. I still feel like I want to follow him and then crush his car with a bat. Poor old lady.

Syndrome was following me around all weekend, trying to ruin me and when I realized I didn't have a ride home from the train station on Sunday night, I could only think of two possible people who could pick me up. In reality, there are at least ten people I could ask, but I was so paralyzed that I could only come up with about four and then I felt too guilty to ask two of them.

The guilt was all-pervading. I felt guilty about asking for a ride on short notice. I felt guilty about the distance (even though I was going to pay for gas). Guilt guilt guilt guilt guilt. So, when the only person available told me to use him as a last resort because he was maybe busy, I couldn't bring myself to use him at all. Guilt. So I paid for a $60 cab ride. Do you hear this? The crazy? I prefer it when my anxiety disorder lays dormant and doesn't ruin my life.

Things have been infinitely better since I got back on my own turf and I haven't cried or felt like it since then. But I'm going out of town this weekend (again! I am addicted to summer!) and I have a million things to do before I leave and I'm throwing a themed party tonight, and I'm going to an Angels game this afternoon. Because I can't say no to fun. (I really can't. I've tried.) I keep telling myself if I make my lists, then I'll be okay from then out because I will just need to follow the lists.

But I don't know where my headlamp is. And I really need to laundry.