The Bloody Doors Off

It was a good day. A very good day.

Lazy morning/afternoon, dinner with Kevin and my dad. Somehow Kevin had managed an in to bringing up the topic of my brothers coming to my last psychiatric appointment. Right, he was thinking about having a hamburger because we were going to grab burgers on Monday after the appointment but the Hero shop at Fairview Mall didn’t have any tables. You’ve never seen a conversation detour so fast. Which yeah, I had a feeling would happen. And 10 minutes later I’d stepped out to use the loo and apparently my dad then brought up the subject to which Kevin then said, “you know it’s open to anyone”. And my father pretty much shivered in a “never gonna happen” way.

Still a good day.

Went to Subspace, ran door from 8-10. Good crowd, not too packed. Awesome nibbles as always, scenes that… there’s an expression. “Your kink is not my kink, and that’s okay”. To which I’d have to add… “And pretty hot to watch.”

Still a good day.

I get off shift, grab a bottle of water. Settle in with my e-cig. Have conversations.

And then I feel it. It’s a slow build, almost like it’s ramping up at half-speed. I can get in front of it. I know what’s going on.

I take my Lorazepam.

My tongue is so dry it won’t dissolve under it.

And the attack.

Comes.

It’s wave after wave. I escape into the lobby. Well, it’s called a lobby even though the place is in an industrial complex and while there’s a table and couches, the outside is separated by a garage door. It cool. Quiet.

I breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

Calm returns. I continue breathing.

And I make the choice to head home. It’s hard to forget what just happened when you’re trying to start a new conversation.

I’m told I’m shaking. I guess I was. I bundle up, put my mp3 player on. Trudge out into the new fallen snow. Hop on the Dufferin bus. At King Street, it’s getting full. By Queen Street, I can’t breathe.

The attack wasn’t over. That’s just Round 1. Here comes the tsunami.

Out at College Street. Take the streetcar through the city, east to home. Listen to the music. Lean against the window. Close my eyes.

Twenty minutes later, I’m myself again.

And after that, I’m home.