59. Lydia
Lydia
I missed the first day of my classes because I couldn’t get out of bed. One alarm went off, then the next one, then the next. I watched the numbers roll over as the anxiety kept growing. I just laid there completely awake, completely unable to move, completely scared to be back here on campus.
A year ago, missing the first day would’ve been a slippery slope for me.
Today felt different, though. Today, the not-moving wasn’t laziness or drama or me sinking into a dark hole I couldn’t pull myself out of.
It was my body needing to slow down as it was still learning that this new reality was okay, was safe.
I was okay with that. It was okay that I wasn’t ready, that it was a lot to process, and that it all felt like it was happening too fast. I just needed a moment to let my brain catch up to the idea that I could be here without being who I was the last time I was here.
I did what I knew I needed to do and reached out to the two people I told myself I’m allowed to disappoint. They were already gone for the day, so I sent a text to our group chat.
PPP Group Chat
Lydia: I can’t do it today. Trying again tomorrow
Lani: Take the day. We love you
Simone: Bringing you lunch after my classes. Love you
In rehab, they called days like this ‘protective’. I thought that was a stupid word for being depressed, and not leaving your bed, but now I kinda get it. My nervous system was hiding under the kitchen table waiting out a storm that wasn’t actually there.
A ‘mental health day.’ I used to roll my eyes at the term, like it was just an excuse.
But today I realized how much it actually kept me from veering off the road and wanting to stay wherever I crashed.
I put the self-deprecation aside and breathed a little…
because this was okay. I was okay. I was going to be okay.
I knew it was hard for my mind and my body to accept that we were back here, back around a lot of triggers and back around a lot of temptations to shut off how those triggers made me feel.
I understood that’s why I was feeling this way, and I understood that it was normal to feel this way.
I also understood that it doesn’t have to last. It doesn’t have to keep me down.
I can come back to campus and work through what being productive here can look like moving forward.
It’s like when you start working out again after you haven’t worked out in a very long time.
You don’t just go lift the heaviest weights…
even if you’ve done it before and know you can lift it.
You still start slow. Build your strength back up so you don’t hurt yourself and end up not being able to lift at all.
Going into this slowly and giving myself grace will give me a lot more strength in the long run and avoid injuries.
By the afternoon, the anxiety storm inside me had calmed enough that I was afraid of having any major panic attacks.
I video chatted with my new therapist—Dr. Nora—because my brain was being bossy and I needed an adult with a license to tell it to sit down.
Dr. Raina referred me to her when I told her I was coming back to campus this fall.
We’ve done three sessions so far, and I see why she referred me to her; she’s just like Dr. Raina.
Dr. Raina knew how hard it was for me to open up to anyone, how I needed a very specific approach, how I could shut down really easily, and sometimes just needed someone who could stick their foot in that door before I fully slam it.
I need someone who will call me out when I need to be called out and hugged when I need to be hugged, even if I say I don’t need to be hugged but actually really need that damn hug.
We talked through what I was feeling and why I was feeling it, and what could help me start tomorrow off on a new foot.
We never step around triggering topics, just find the best ways to talk about them without the anxiety wanting to shut my brain off to the healing part of being able to talk about it.
After that, I spent the rest of the day just…resting. Seems so simple, but simple is healing. When my body can step outside of the spiral and be okay with the silence, I can let the reset my system needs actually do its job.
Simone brought lunch back to the dorm, and then when Lani got back, we spent the rest of the night having a movie marathon, and my brain didn’t do that zoning-out thing it used to do when I tried to concentrate on normal things like watching a movie or having a conversation.
I was really proud of my brain, of it being able to box away the scary feelings and close the door to the room I put them in.
Knowing they’re there, they’re real, and I can come back to them when I’m ready.
When I’m in a better mindset to sort them out.
I didn’t let myself feel guilty when I took Hydroxyzine and went to sleep early because the anxiety jitters kicked back in.
I slept like a baby and woke up on the second day of classes ready to take on the day, like my mind had decided to be a functioning human again.
I put both feet on the floor and didn’t fall through.
My brain got the memo that it didn’t need to be stuck in fight or flight today.
I brushed my teeth, braided my hair, put on a clean T-shirt, ate a real meal, and walked with the girls across campus.
Nothing went wrong, the world didn’t catch on fire, I didn’t feel like I was going to have a panic attack, and I was actually… kinda excited.
Campus in late August is loud and busy with new students and new schedules, and normally something that would trigger my head to feel like it was all too loud, too much, too overwhelming, but I just took a deep breath in, calmed the jittery feeling, and got back to a grounded space before walking up to the building my first class was in.
I chose a seat near the door because that’s what my body likes now.
It makes me feel more secure to have an exit plan.
I don’t let myself focus on wanting to use it; I just remind myself it’s there if I really need it, and it’s okay if I need it… but I don’t have to want to use it.
The lecture was full of new, confusing terms and old, repetitive ones.
I copied down what I could, and I took a couple of breaks to notice three blue things in the room.
I didn’t bolt when the door clicked shut and stuck, which sometimes is enough to convince me my lungs were stuck, too.
Each class felt a little safer, felt like the anxiety was finally getting quieter.
Like it knew it didn’t have the same power here that it used to, so it was starting to give up.
On the way out of one of my classes, I passed a bulletin board crowded with flyers—yoga in the courtyard, tutoring support, a blood drive coming up, and in the bottom right corner: Campus Recovery Community—Come as You Are.
I had to stop moving to look at it. A tear-off tab stared back at me.
The rehab discharge class had recommended the CRC program as if it would be the best support to lean on while away from family.
“Community is the opposite of craving,” they said, which sounded like a Pinterest quote until I remembered sitting on the bathroom floor wishing I could text someone I hadn’t hurt yet.
The idea of opening up to strangers in Charlotte was one thing—strangers in rehab are just that, strangers.
After it was over, they’d go back to being strangers, people I never saw again.
Opening up to strangers on campus would be different.
You see them at coffee shops on campus, share a class, stand behind them in the dining hall line while your brain is still processing what they said about their father or their relapse or their childhood trauma.
It feels…so much more exposed, more permanent.
Still, I pulled a tab, folded it in half, and put it in my bag.
By the time I finished my last class, the sun had softened a little, and I had a headache that was eighty percent dehydration and only twenty percent anxiety.
Which is better than normal. When I walked into our dorm, the girls were already there, working on homework with the music way too loud to concentrate with.
I just stare for a moment at them and smile like a creep.
Lani looks up from where she’s lying on the bed and smiles in that questioning ‘you’re being odd’ kinda way.
“I’ve missed this…” I say, letting out a sigh and smiling. “I’ve missed my girls, this dorm, I’ve missed all the things I missed out on last year…”
Simone turns the music down and stands up from the bed, walking over to me and pulling me into a hug. “Yeah, I’ve missed it all, too…and I’ve really missed you.”
“You saw me over the break, though.”
Simone scoffs. “Barely. Once a week was basically torture…but I also just missed…you. This you. I’m excited for this year. I am every year…but like, really, really excited this year.”
Lani hops up too, never wanting to be left out, and hugs us both. “This is our year.”
I’ve heard people say that way too many times during some of my worst years.
Please let this one actually be mine, be different.
“So, what trouble do y’all have planned for this year so far?” I ask them as we all flop back down on our beds.
“You know,” Simone starts. “The usual, classes, Greek stuff, obviously football season is already in full effect…and—”
“Oh, I know you’re ready for football season,” Lani teases with a wink.
Simone tries to hide the way her cheeks blush by ignoring Lani. “And…I’m not sure what else yet; I think it’s gonna be a pretty chill year, honestly.”
“No big back-to-school parties planned yet?”
Simone looks over to Lani and gives her a look that makes me feel like I don’t know something they do. Do they not want to talk about parties around me?
“It doesn’t bother me for y’all to go to parties still, you know that, right?”