I am happy to say that I made it to Canada safely and that my flight was good. Unfortunately, I had an anxiety attack at the airport, in a public space and it did not go away very easily/at all.
Anxiety may not be able to kill you, but it can definitely fuck with you. Other people may see it as just crying, but its an emotionally draining experience to go through.
I was fine the entire morning and when I left home. At the airport I had a bit of a problem and that triggered the anxiety. As I was filling my departure form, I did not feel okay, and told my grandmother so. Unfortunately, she does not really understand what I go through and it is something that I always deal with in private. Instead of being alone, I was in a busy restaurant surrounded by a ton of strangers, which I think may have made it worse.
As I felt the anxiety coming, I made the stupid decision to try to hurt myself to see if that would distract me. It did not. Instead that spot still hurts, so I DO NOT RECOMMEND. And then I told her I needed to leave NOW. I could not stay there anymore. She understood especially since I could not control the tears coming from my eyes. And thats why I ended up rushing to the washroom, with all my shit because I didn’t want to be around people when I knew I wanted to cry and I couldn’t breathe.
I was in the washroom for about 10-15 minutes before I had to go through security. People came and went, probably just thinking I was just crying, when I was having an anxiety attack. I had never seen my grandmother so scared because she has never seen me in this state. I am usually the one who is strong and there for everyone else so I don’t seem weak. And I am not saying that this is a bad thing. Its just when you go through so much shit with your loved ones, you become protective of each other, and place this shield to cover your emotions. So seeing me go through all of that, scared the shit out of her.
Fortunately, I was able to pull myself to go through security and board my plane, though I was still shedding tears. But I just hate myself for this to be my last memories and moments with my grandmother. That’s not what I want her to remember. I want her to remember the good times, the laughing, the stories, the silly things. Not me having an anxiety attack in the bathroom , where she’s worried about me.
I should not hate myself for something that I cant control. But I do.
I HATED how I left things today. I wish I could have a redo.
And on top of that I started my period the day I was supposed to travel. When does something good happen to me?
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