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Coffee

November 11, 2012

Today I discovered something else I can’t have. Coffee.

I knew that coffee, being a stimulant, is not good for anxiety. But I do so love the stuff. I allowed myself a cup at about lunchtime, at which point, my day, which had been going pretty well, took a decidedly bad turn.

My husband and I had been out for brunch with one of our friends, and had had a lovely time. We wandered about the shops, looking at books and such, and then stopped for a cup of coffee before going home.

The entire way home was a nightmare – I was driving, and my heart was racing, stomach fluttering like I was waiting in line for the gallows. It was so bad, I had stomach cramps, and almost had to pull over a couple of times on the way home. I tried to force myself to relax, but it was futile, and I panic drove all the way home like I’d been told the house was on fire.

Reaching home, I put myself to bed to calm down, even though it was only about 2:30 in the afternoon. I read for a bit to distract myself, and it worked for about an hour, until at 3:30, I started to worry again. G was napping, and we were meant to be meeting my parents at an ice hockey match at 5:30. The ice hockey venue was about a half hour, 45 minute drive. That meant we needed to leave at about 5pm, or 4:45 to be safe. But I also need to feed my ex-next door neighbour’s cat, which stresses me out anyway, as their house is creepy, and I’m never sure if I will open the door to find a cat corpse. Or a crazy person, because that is a totally rational fear, I’m sure.

So if I have to feed their cat, I can do it on the way to ice hockey, which will only take an extra 5 minutes, but G will be grumpy because he’ll need to get up earlier from his nap, and then sit in the car. And I know he doesn’t want to go to the ice hockey anyway, because he’s recently hurt his ankle and is complaining about the pain a lot.

So I lay there and panicked for an hour, until we left, worrying that I wouldn’t be able to wake G up in time, that I would be late for ice hockey, that the cat would be dead/serial killers would be lurking in these peoples’ house, that the tickets for the hockey wouldn’t be waiting for me when I got to the venue, and there would have been some kind of mix up, and that we wouldn’t be able to afford to go for dinner afterward.

Would you like to know how many of these things actually happened? None. I woke G up in time. He was grumpy, but then, when isn’t he? We left on time. I fed the cat. It made a noise, so clearly wasn’t dead. There was no one in that house waiting for me. We arrived on time at the venue, just as my parents were walking in. My tickets were waiting for me. The ice hockey was awesome, and we went out for dinner afterwards without an issue with money, because I paid for it.

And do you know what sparked all this off? Coffee.

Damn you, coffee. Join alcohol in the naughty corner.

From → Bad Days

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