Crowds. The excruciating talk talk talk that melts into a jangle of wordless noise from all around, competing with infernal chatter inside. Confusion. The heat of bodies, people standing too close, the ones who even when you take a step back they move closer. This makes me intensely angry. Staying with a conversation in the midst of a crowd--near to impossible. To focus on one person is to ignore all else, unsafe.
I ask my husband beforehand, please help me, cover for me. I think I plaster a faux smile on my face but don't know if it's working, so often the last few years I cannot tell what I portray to the world, and if it becomes too much I squeeze his hand. Vice grip. Get Me Out Of Here. And he does--a combination of caring and the fact that my public disintegration does not reflect well on him. In that moment, relief, love, safety. In the aftermath, I hate myself. I try to put it away.
Grocery store lines, lines of any sort if I'm alone. Trapped. The talk fades out and it's roaring in my mind, white noise. It is absence. Flickering florescent lights, high ceilings. Their mouths move and I can't hear them. If someone tries to touch me, "Are you okay?" this is not good. Failure to blend; I've become visible. Fight panic yet I am a statue. I visualize moving my body until I can find the mental marionette strings and jerk my limbs in the appropriate directions.
I don't go out if I can't predict doing better than that. Thank goodness I don't get that bad off all the time. I do despise to be the crazy lady. I am cautious but I force myself out again lately. Must keep going.