Anxiety Girl: Meet Sadie Valentine...

by Lacey London

  Anxiety Girl

  Copyright © 2017 by Stacey Cartlidge

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the publisher

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For my inner anxiety girl.

  It’s okay to be afraid.

  A Note from the Author.

  I’ve always been a worrisome person, but my real struggle with anxiety and depression started around seven years ago. I’m still not a hundred percent sure what exactly triggered my anxiety, but I quickly found myself falling deeper into an anxiety-fuelled depression. I watched the person I was slowly disappear and all that remained was an empty shell of a woman.

  Although no two cases of anxiety are the same, I really hope Anxiety Girl can help other sufferers to realise there is a light at the end of the tunnel and that they’re not alone in their struggles.

  Anxiety and depression can affect people for any period of time and in varying degrees of severity. I wanted to create a story which showed that mental health issues can happen to anyone, regardless of who you are or what you have. I also wanted to address that there aren’t any rules with anxiety.

  The characters in this novel might be fictitious, but the feelings and emotions experienced are very real.

  Lacey London

  Anxiety:

  A feeling of worry, nervousness or unease about something with an uncertain outcome.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  Hi! I’m Sadie. Sadie Valentine. You don’t know me, but then again, I don’t know you. Not yet, anyway, but you will get to know me. You will actually get to know me better than most people on this planet. My aim is for us to become so well acquainted that you will feel comfortable enough to confide all of your fears and feelings in me. That might seem an impossible task right now, however, with a little time and trust we can do exactly that.

  It’s hard to know a person, isn’t it? Like, really know them. So many of us have a huge circle of friends, relatives and associates around us, people who we know so very well that we could trust with every breath in our bodies. Unfortunately, there may be times in our lives where we discover our nearest and dearest are not quite as sympathetic as we would like them to be. This isn’t because they don’t care or that they’re not interested, but simply because they don’t understand exactly what it is we are going through.

  It’s easy for us to become frustrated with our families and to get annoyed and upset because we feel like we are alone in our battle with anxiety. The truth is, those closest to us probably feel just as helpless as we do. Not being able to aid a loved one when we can clearly see they’re in distress is a torture all of its own. Anxiety, along with other mental health issues, doesn’t just affect the sufferer, it spreads its cloud over the people around them. Just like smoking, the second-hand effects pass from one person to another until the smoker finally stubs the cigarette out.

  I want you all to know that you are not alone. Whether it’s anxiety, depression, panic attacks, stress or all four, never feel like you have to face it by yourself. My job is to help you on this journey. To be the person who you can open up to, safe in the knowledge that I know exactly what you are experiencing because I have been through it myself.

  Since we can’t physically see anxiety, it’s often brushed under the carpet. We are so often told it is something that can simply be shrugged off. The reality is, until we address the underlying cause of the anxiety itself, we will never be completely free from it. Anxiety can’t be cured with an over-the-counter pill, a quick trip to the doctor’s surgery or a browse of the internet for advice and that’s a hard thing to accept. Learning to control anxiety takes time, commitment and a desire to change the way we think.

  When I was in the throes of anxiety, it seemed so impossibly huge to me. Of course I had felt down before, but this was different. It felt big. Bigger than big. Bigger than any doctor or specialist would ever understand. I was deteriorating. I was literally watching myself fade away. I could feel it nibbling at my thoughts and chomping through my spirit. I knew it was happening, I just couldn’t shake it off. Sometimes I could almost see it, sinking its teeth into any glimpse of happiness I might dare to believe in.

  I was desperate not to talk about it. The thought of people knowing I had something wrong upstairs was worse than the diagnosis itself. Choosing to ignore it was my way of handling things. If I didn’t acknowledge it, I found it easier to believe it wasn’t really there.

  As I am sure many of you have discovered, mental health is still quite a taboo subject. You can have bum implants, a boob job, you can even have a bloody penis enlargement and society won’t judge you. But you tell someone you’re having a hard time mentally and they want to put you in a white jacket and throw away the key. Okay, so that might be a slight exaggeration, but it’s true that matters of the mind are frequently ignored. Out of sight, out of mind. Ironically.

  Anxiety, along with depression and panic attacks, was the diagnosis I fought so hard against. I refused to believe it. What had I ever done to be part of the unfortunate group who fall victim to this? I’m sure you have all asked yourself that same question. Why me? I muttered those two little words over and over in my mind on a daily basis. What had gone so fundamentally wrong in my brain to cause the bubbly girl people knew and loved to crumble into a sad, lonely and frightened woman?

  Thankfully, I am one of the lucky few who managed to beat anxiety and depression before they beat me and now I want to help all of you to do the same. If I didn’t have that one person looking out for me, I don’t think I would be here today. I would have succumbed to the little voice in the back of my mind that told me to end it once and for all.

  In order for you to feel comfortable enough to confide in me, it’s only fair that I confide in you first. We all have a story about how we wound up here. Well, this is mine…

  Mental health issues affect people the world over, but you won’t be one of them, will you?

  THE CALM BEFORE THE STORM

  Chapter 1

  ‘You have the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.’ My new friend growls, his leg trembling uncontrollably as he looks me up and down.

  Wrapping my tongue around my straw, I shrug my shoulders and run a hand through my long, blonde hair. His aftershave is musky and overpowering as he leans in close and whispers in my ear. I don’t know his name. I would be surprised if he knew mine. What I do know is that he has been undressing me with his eyes since the s
econd I walked in here.

  Looking around the packed nightclub, I pretend to listen as he brags about his latest business venture. A business venture that I doubt very much exists. Stifling a yawn, I politely smile and lean back in my seat. He thinks that I like him. He thinks that I’ve been laughing at his rubbish jokes because I just can’t get enough. Little does this fool know he’s the third so-called millionaire to hit on me this week. He also doesn’t know this is all just a game to me. Well, I call it a game, but games are supposed to be fun, aren’t they?

  Flirting with men in a lame bid to make myself feel better has never been my style, but believe me, I do have my reasons. You see, according to my friend’s advice, the best way to get over a man is to get under another one. After almost eight weeks of putting this theory to the test, I am starting to lose hope in this being the way forward for me.

  My new playmate drapes an arm around the back of my chair and I make a point of showing him my glass is almost empty. Immediately standing to attention, he jumps to his feet and makes a beeline for the bar. Who knew it was this easy? Watching him leave, I try to find a part of me that is enjoying this charade. Instead of the excitement and adrenaline that I was seeking, I am left feeling emptier than I did before.

  Taking the opportunity to top-up my makeup, I slip through the crowds of gyrating people and disappear into the toilets. The music pounds against the walls of the cubicle as I whip out my mirror and gaze at my reflection. Perfect shades of bronze and gold mingle together on my eyelids, making my green eyes look even more piercing than usual. They say the eyes are the window to the soul, but mine seem so distant, so cut off from reality and so closed to the outside world.

  Throwing my ridiculously long hair over my shoulder, I use my elbow to unlock the door and hold my wrists beneath the taps. Cold water runs over my pale skin and I find myself wishing it would wash away the tattoo that is imprinted along the inside of my ring finger. My gaze lands on the text and I let out a little laugh. Forever. Nothing could be further from the truth. If only I knew back then what I know now.

  As it turns out, absolutely nothing lasts forever. Everything has to come to an end eventually, whether we like it or not. We’re all aware of that deep down, we just don’t want to believe it. Instead we bury our heads in the sand and pretend it won’t ever happen, all the while knowing that it will.

  Tearing my eyes away from my unfortunate tattoo, I look to my left to see a pretty redhead staring at my hair in awe.

  ‘Your hair is incredible!’ She gasps, fluffing up her own locks in the mirror and frowning when it falls flat.

  ‘Thank you!’ Shooting her a smile, I turn off the tap and shake the excess water from my hands.

  ‘Are you wearing extensions?’ Not holding back, she reaches out and grabs a handful of my hair, carefully inspecting each strand.

  I shake my head and snatch a paper towel from the machine.

  ‘It’s so long!’ Her jaw drops as she takes a step back and studies me closely. ‘What colour do you use on it?’

  I get this a lot. Nobody believes me, but my hair is as natural as the day I was born. As a child, I absolutely hated it, but over the years I have grown to love my snow-like mane.

  ‘It’s natural.’ I offer her a smile and lean towards the mirror to fix my lipstick.

  Carefully tracing my cupid’s bow, I smack my lips together and remove any smudges with a piece of tissue paper. There’s something about wearing red lipstick that makes me feel invincible. It’s like a powerful confidence boost that makes women want to be you and men want to sleep with you. Even if you’re not feeling that great on the inside, a simple slick of red tells the outside world a different story.

  The redhead squints at me suspiciously before letting out a laugh. ‘Fine! Don’t tell me! Whatever it is, it looks fantastic!’

  With a quick wink, she has a final look in the mirror before disappearing into the nightclub. Returning my attention to my reflection, I run my fingers through my hair and spin around to check out my outfit. The black dress floats over my skinny frame, dancing delicately around my thighs. Tugging on the hem, I adjust the spaghetti straps and let out a satisfied sigh.

  Despite my daring choice of clothing, I am quite self-conscious about my image. My friends think I do it for attention. They think I grumble about my insecurities because I’m fishing for compliments, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. When I look in the mirror, I don’t see what other people seem to see in me. I don’t see long legs, a flat stomach and a perfectly contoured face. I see a spindly woman who is built like a grasshopper and slightly resembles a horse.

  Squeezing past a couple of young girls, I clutch my bag to my chest and throw open the door. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the darkness as I feel my way around the bar. Cutting across the dancefloor, I notice a couple of frosty glasses on the table as I slide into my seat.

  ‘I was beginning to think you had done a runner…’ He beams, leaning over and holding the glass to my lips.

  Taking it from him, I make sure to brush my fingers against his for a moment longer than necessary and sneak a glance at my watch. I can’t keep this up much longer. No matter how hard I try to convince myself that this is helping me on the road back to happiness, I just find the whole routine a bit mundane and dare I say it, extremely boring.

  Clinking his glass against mine, he peers at me over the rim and waves around a hotel room key. His bottom lip quivers as he throws back his drink and inches his chair closer to mine. Alright, that’s quite enough. Despite Piper’s advice, I have absolutely no intention of taking this further than the harmless flirtation that it is.

  Glancing over my shoulder, I breathe a sigh of relief as I spot a familiar face hovering by the entrance. It’s about bloody time. Pretending to knock my bag onto the floor, I bend down and subtly flash Aldo the signal. Not missing a beat, he gives me a quick nod in response and vanishes into the darkness.

  Slowly sliding to the edge of my seat, I rest my chin in my palm and yawn, a sure-fire signal that I am ready to call it a night.

  ‘I’ve had such a fabulous time tonight.’ Reaching out and placing my spare hand on his arm, I give it a little squeeze and drop my phone into my handbag. ‘We must do it again sometime.’ I try my hardest to put some feeling into my voice, but I am pretty sure he can see I’m losing interest.

  ‘You’re… you’re not going already, are you?’ Realising I might be leaving without him seems to sober him up significantly. ‘But, the night’s still young…’

  I give him a coy smile and glance down at the floor, before bringing my eyes up to meet his. ‘It’s been great to meet you…’

  ‘Julian.’ He confirms, not bothered in the slightest that I blatantly haven’t bothered to remember his name.

  Julian? I swallow a laugh and reach out for the business card that he is eagerly pushing across the table. He couldn’t look less like a Julian if he tried.

  Stumbling to his feet, he wraps a sweaty arm around my shoulders and gives me that I want to kiss you look. Quickly taking a step back, I promise to call him and disappear into the sea of people. I can feel his eyes burning into me as I sashay up the staircase and slip outside. How do people do this for fun? I feel like an actress who has left the stage and can finally drop the strained pretence. Breathing a sigh of relief, I tuck my hair behind my ears and scan the busy street for Aldo.

  A sharp whistle grabs my attention and I spin around to see the messy man-bun that I know and love.

  ‘You took your time!’ Resting a hand on my bony hip, I narrow my eyes and wait for him to explain himself.

  Aldo reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. ‘Bella Lake called the salon.’ He rolls his eyes and proceeds to light up. ‘She needed her hair extensions fixing before the premiere tomorrow.’

  ‘And you didn’t think to call?’ I automatically link my arm through his as we start to make our way towards the taxi rank.

&n
bsp; Aldo shrugs and blows a steady stream of smoke into the air, not bothering to dignify me with a response. His frosty exterior might come across as arrogant, but Aldo is probably my favourite person in the world. Yes, he can be an arsehole and I have come close to throttling him for stealing my Crème de la Mer, but I wouldn’t change him. Aldo is my rock, my best friend and my support network, all rolled into one beautiful, homosexual package.

  A couple of teenagers outside the pizza place to our right stop talking as we walk past. One of them lets out a wolf whistle before hiding behind her friend, the pair of them giggling manically. With big, blue eyes and an impressive head of hair, Aldo gets more attention from women than most straight men. I look up at him and smile fondly. I can’t deny that he’s gorgeous, but annoyingly gorgeous. You know the kind, those infuriating men who wake-up prettier than any contouring could possibly make happen. The fact that he’s an award-winning hairdresser might have something to do with Aldo’s striking looks. His thick, chocolate waves and baby-lights are the envy of women everywhere.

  In the many years that we have been friends, I haven’t once let him cut my hair. Whereas everyone else seems to be transfixed by my platinum locks, Aldo has been itching to snip it off since the moment we met. I actually can’t remember the last time I stepped inside a hair salon. Over the years, it has inched further and further down my back and now falls neatly at the base of my spine.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ Aldo asks, popping my thought bubble with his smoke hoops.

  I nod in response and stop to adjust the buckle on my shoe. ‘I had tiger prawns and lobster at Il Migliore.’

  Aldo rolls his eyes and coughs into the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Which fool paid for it this time?’

  ‘His name was Julian.’ I say Julian with an accent, already knowing that he is going to poke fun.