The Scary Thing That Made Me Cry

Yesterday I wrote a post that included a picture that said, “Do one thing a day that scares you.” And although I agree with Heather that this probably isn’t possible for people who have really bad anxiety, it may not be practical for anybody, either. For example, the scary thing I did yesterday was finally getting my ass into the shower. No, the act didn’t terrify me, but just the thought of doing it — or not doing it, for that matter — increased my anxiety. So, that “scary thing” is different for everyone on different days and should be something realistic.

Brian and I made plans to go to my “new” gym to try a Group Kick class at 12:30pm. After thinking it through this morning, I realized that it probably wasn’t realistic and there’s no way I could make it an entire hour kicking and boxing and whatever else they do. So I suggested we take the Group Step class at 9:30am instead. How hard could that be? You just step up and down on this step thing. Besides, I’d already used the bathroom so any anxiety about having frantic scary urges because of the IBS was out of the way. Neither of us has taken any aerobics classes before and Brian never would other than for moral support.

I packed my gym bag so I could shower there to make sure I was totally OK with the facilities and besides, I’d be less likely to shower at home later no matter how stinky I was. By the time we got into the car, I didn’t think we’d make it in time. Besides, Brian didn’t have a free pass — he’d have to sign up for a guest pass and who knew how long that would take? I wanted to make sure we had a spot in the way back of the room.

There was no parking. I changed my mind and told Brian to head home, even though that wasn’t what I wanted to do. So we drove around until we found street parking. We were late. One of the employees walked me up to where the class was taking place and I could clearly see through the plate glass into the studio that the class was well on its way. Luckily, there was a chair just outside the door. I collapsed into it and burst into tears. Right there. At the gym. In front of the gym employee, and where I was convinced the people nearby and in the class could see me blubbering like an idiot about how there was no way I could do that class, I was too uncoordinated, and so on. I couldn’t even tell which one was the instructor! And Brian hadn’t even come up from the men’s locker room yet.

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