My brain is so scattered right now, I don’t know where to start. The wedding did not go well, in fact I really feel like I need to apologize. I need to send a thank you card that just says, “I’m sorry.” They’ll know exactly why.
Actually, I wish I could send cards to everyone who interacted with me, simultaneously thanking them and apologizing. I feel sorry for the people who had to shake my sweaty palms and attempt to sustain a conversation with me. I do not know why anybody would want me at their wedding. It’s absurd.
No matter how hard I tried, I could not fake happiness. I was completely saturated with anxiety. From head to toe, my body was tense and heavy and uncomfortable. I didn’t stop sweating. Under my arms, the stains went through three shirts, even a heavy black sweater. I felt nauseous the whole time. I barely ate. I did manage to get three beers down, but that did nothing because when I’m that anxious, I can’t feel anything except the anxiety. I couldn’t smile. Most of the time, I didn’t even try. What’s the point?
The other night, when I talked to my mom about my issues, she said, “You’re like a broken record, and it’s getting a little old.” She’s right. How much longer can I let this go on before people begin to quit on me? It’s one thing to have issues and internalize them, but it’s something entirely different altogether to show them off to the world. I’m trying so hard, but maybe that’s not good enough? I know my g/f worried about me the whole time instead of having fun. She’s always taking care of me.
When she left on Friday night–the night before the wedding–for a pre-wedding dinner, I got really drunk. The anticipatory anxiety became too great; I had to do something. I had a terrible hangover throughout the wedding, which probably helped to ease the anxiety a little. I’m actually still feeling a bit hungover. Anyway, my g/f had a mini breakdown in the morning, as we were getting ready–
“I want you to want to look good,” she said, crying. “I want you to want to go. I want you to be happy. I need your support.”
How much more can she take? How much more can I take?
Unhappy Happiness 