Anxiety Girl: Meet Sadie Valentine...

by Lacey London

‘I’m going to settle the bill.’ Pushing away his plate, Aldo adjusts his jeans and makes his way to the bar.

  Thankful for a few moments alone to drop the fake smile, I exhale loudly and inadvertently catch the attention of a family at the table on my right.

  ‘Are you alright?’ The friendly diner asks, struggling to sit a restless toddler in a highchair.

  I immediately freeze, wondering why on earth she is asking me that. I’m fine. I have my makeup on, Aldo has blow-dried my hair. There’s nothing about me that says, I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

  ‘Yes…’ I reply, giving her a quizzical look as she returns to her meal.

  Maybe she can see through my act. I look up at the ceiling, half expecting to see a grey cloud hanging above my head or a sign that says, this woman is depressed, anxiety ridden and everything else that comes with it. Butterflies attack my stomach as the awful ringing returns to my ears. My heart beats erratically in my chest and I scan the queue of people for Aldo. Trying to keep calm, I pray that I can shake this off.

  Fighting with everything I have, I cover my eyes as dread runs through my veins. Knowing the panic has already taken hold, I dive out of my seat as my vision becomes blurry. No! No! No! Fresh air fills my lungs as I push open the door and gasp for breath.

  Spotting an empty phone box across the street, I clutch my heart as my chest becomes excruciatingly tight. The door closes behind me, blocking out the outside world and giving me the privacy I require. Attempting to use the breathing techniques advised in the pharmacist’s leaflet, I look down at the ground and slowly count to ten.

  ‘Shirley?’ A light knocking grabs my attention and I spin around to see Aldo peering through the glass. ‘What are you doing?’

  Ignoring the sweat that is beading on my forehead, I hastily clear my throat. ‘I was making a call…’

  Aldo’s gaze lands on the mobile phone that is poking out of my pocket. ‘And you didn’t use your own phone because…’

  Frantically racking my brains for a suitable lie, I shove the handset into my handbag and laugh nervously. ‘The battery died.’

  Every muscle in my body tells me to stay in the safety of the phone box, but I somehow muster the strength to pull open the door. Wind whips around my face as I inwardly scream at myself to get it together. I am shopping with my best friend, which is one my favourite things to do. Why do I feel like I am being dragged around a funeral parlour? I watch a trio of women laugh in a coffee shop to our left. Glossy bags sit at their feet as they talk animatedly with their hands. When did that stop being me? Why did that stop being me?

  Desperately trying to keep it together, I link my arm through Aldo’s as he leads me into a department store. The warmth of the heating washes over me as we step inside the familiar building. Members of staff who know us well raise their hands in acknowledgment as we head for the escalators. An array of beauty products glisten beneath the bright spotlights, but I have no desire towards any of them. I have no draw, no longing to approach the things that would normally fill me with joy and happiness.

  Letting Aldo drag me towards the shoe section, I feign a smile as he gushes over a pair of sparkly boots.

  ‘Aren’t these incredible?’ Turning over the shoes in his hands, Aldo points to the label and nods appreciatively. ‘I just love Suave.’

  ‘I think you have enough Suave shoes, don’t you?’ I take the heels from him and place them back on the shelf. ‘How many pairs has Lianna sent you this season?’

  Aldo screws up his nose and shoots me a frown. ‘Shirley, you can never have too many Suave shoes. Don’t you know me at all?’

  I hit him on the back playfully and let out a giggle. Almost immediately, an unpleasant twinge causes my stomach to flutter. My smile instantly falters and I feel guilty for allowing myself to laugh when just moments ago I was in the midst of a panic attack. Attempting to shake it off, I make all the right noises as Aldo grabs a basket and starts to load it up with a selection of shoes, boots and trainers. I watch his eyes glint as he spends half a second considering each purchase. Not bothering to look at the price tag, he simply checks the sizing and drops them into his basket. You can almost see the bursts of happiness above his head as he picks up each pair. After feeling so low, actual joy in progress is fascinating to see. As he moves on to the jewellery counter, I find myself wondering if I will ever feel like that again.

  It would help if I knew what was wrong with me. The thing is, I’m afraid to find out. I also have this secret fear of being officially labelled as mentally ill. It’s easier to tell myself this will pass and that I don’t need any help, any pills or any kind of therapy.

  ‘Shirley?’ Aldo’s voice pierces my thought bubble, causing me to snap back to reality. ‘Red or blue?’

  ‘Mmm…’ I look down at the two bracelets he is holding out. ‘Red.’

  He looks at me in bewilderment. ‘Really? Even though the jacket is green? That would totally clash!’

  I bite my lip anxiously, not wanting to admit that I haven’t got a clue what he is talking about.

  ‘Have you even been listening to me?’ Dropping the blue bracelet into his basket, he leads me into a quiet corner of the shop. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes!’ I hiss, my heart starting to pound once more. ‘I’m fine!’

  ‘We both know you’re not fine…’ Aldo sighs and shakes his head. ‘If you aren’t up to this, you just have to say.’

  Shaking off his concerns, I fake a laugh and ignore the voice in the back of my mind that is warning me I’m out of my depth.

  ‘For the final time, Aldo, I’m fine…’

  Chapter 16

  ‘What do you want to do for dinner?’ Aldo asks, slipping his arm through mine as we head to the taxi rank. ‘We could have Indian, or should we just drink our weight in champagne?’

  An entire afternoon of pretending not to be afraid has left me emotionally drained and as a result, my battery is running on empty. Aldo’s attempts at fixing me with cupcakes and sparkly things has gone down like a lead balloon. Food is the last thing on my mind and as much as I hate to admit it, so is Aldo. I can’t keep up this act anymore, all I want to do is cower beneath my duvet and shut out the rest of the world. My face is physically aching from forcing my muscles into a smile. Each time I curl up my lips, I feel myself falling deeper and deeper into a hole that seems impossible to crawl out of. Nothing is working.

  ‘I’m not really hungry…’ I try to sound convincing as I prepare to make my escape. ‘Besides, I have to check on my mum’s house. I’ll grab something there.’

  ‘Okay…’ Holding out his arm for a taxi, Aldo nods and takes a puff of his cigarette. ‘We can check on the house and pick up a pizza on the way home.’

  My stomach flips and I try not to show how exasperated I am. ‘Actually, I’d rather go alone…’

  ‘No chance.’ Aldo cuts me off abruptly and shakes his head. ‘I’m coming with you, end of story.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘I said no, Shirley.’ His tone is so sharp that I physically flinch. ‘I told you last night. If you won’t let me take you to a doctor, then I’m staying with you until I see you turn a corner. That means twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week.’

  Tipping back my head, I curse myself for letting things get this out of hand. Why couldn’t I just have kept it together? Why didn’t I just dust myself down and carry on?

  ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do here. I really, really, do.’ I take his hands in mine and squeeze them gently. ‘I’m feeling so much better already, but I still need a little breathing space.’ I’m surprising myself with how well the lies are starting to slip off the tongue. ‘You go and order food. I’ll meet you back at the apartment. I’ll only be an hour.’ Digging around in my purse, I fish out some notes and shove them into his pocket.

  He holds my gaze for a moment too long before finally shrugging his shoulders and stubbing out his cigarette. ‘Fine, but if you’re not back in an hour,
I swear to God I will call the police.’

  I manage to fake a laugh as a cab pulls up next to us. ‘I won’t be long.’ Climbing into the car, I give him a quick wave as the taxi races off into the night.

  Being able to drop my forced smile fills me with sadness as I realise this is who I really am now. My body sinks into the seats as the driver speeds along the country lane. I sway left and right with the movement of the car, closing my eyes to reveal the darkness that has become so comforting to me. I could cry with relief that I finally have a few moments alone to allow the emotions to come out.

  Just as I am about to let the tears fall, the car comes to a stop outside my mother’s house. Offering the driver my card to make the payment, I slide over the seat and slam the door shut. I didn’t need to check on the place. The enormous gates and monitored alarm system provide the ultimate security, but knowing there’s no one here appeals to me right now.

  Not bothering to turn on the light, I step inside and look around the vacant hallway. Reaching for the bannister, I drag myself up the stairs and come to a stop in front of my mum’s bedroom. Her familiar scent drifts out and I can almost feel it pulling me inside. Taking a seat on the edge of her bed, I bury my face into her feather pillow. Memories of my childhood come flooding back to me as I curl up into a little ball. Back then I felt safe and protected, in the way that only children can feel.

  The walls of the dark room seem to close in on me, but this time I’m not scared. I want them to wrap their arms around me and protect me from this hideous feeling inside. From the outside world that gives me panic attacks and from the alarming idea that I may never return to my normal self.

  I need a mother. Not my mother, but a mother who will hold me and tell me everything is going to be alright. I’m twenty-five, I’m an actual grown-up and here I am, crying into my mother’s pillow and I don’t even know why. I have the life that most people would kill for. Why can I no longer appreciate the good things around me? Why am I void of any feeling that isn’t negative? Tears spill down my cheeks and I am powerless to stop them.

  Not only am I sad about my past, but I am now petrified of the future. What happens next for me? I don’t have a job, I can’t afford to run the apartment by myself and apart from Aldo, I don’t have a single real friend. I don’t even know where to start with putting my life back together. It’s like my future has been shattered into a million pieces. Some of those pieces are so broken I couldn’t fix them if I tried. I feel like something inside is telling me this is where my story ends, this is it for me. The titles are about to roll and the curtain is getting ready to fall. Game over. Thank you for coming and goodnight.

  My phone pings in my pocket and I know without looking that it will be Aldo checking up on me. I can’t go back to the apartment and pretend I’m okay because that’s what Aldo wants to hear. I just can’t. I know I should tell him how I’m feeling, but the idea of what might happen if I reveal I want to close my eyes and never open them again is worse than keeping up this performance.

  I can’t carry on like this. I have to address it. I need to address it. If I don’t, I am extremely worried about what might happen. What I might do to myself if this carries on for a moment longer. Ignoring my chirping phone, I wander around the dark room until I find myself in the en-suite. My head starts to throb as my brain goes into overdrive. What? Why? When? How? So many questions are running through my mind and each one has an awful answer. Flicking on the light, I scour the cabinets for some painkillers.

  Finally locating a medicine box at the back of the towel cupboard, I perch on the edge of the bath and flip open the lid. A dozen bottles stare up at me as I select a strip of ibuprofen and grab a glass from the counter. Popping the pills into my mouth, I fill the cup with water and gulp them down. The cold liquid sends shivers down my spine as I bend down to fasten the box. Pausing with my fingers on the bottle of co-codamol, I decide to take one of those as well.

  Sliding down onto the cold tiles, I run my fingers over the selection of tablets and study the labels. So many solutions for so many different ailments. You name the symptom and the answer is right here in this plastic container. Heartburn, indigestion, period cramps and diarrhoea. If only there was a single-dose pill to stop me from feeling like this. I am about to fasten the clip when I spot my mum’s sleeping medication buried beneath a stash of plasters and antiseptic cream. Picking up the brown bottle, I turn the lid and listen to the click as I twist it repeatedly.

  My mother has always had trouble sleeping. For as long as I can remember, she has popped a pill every night before crawling into bed. She’s never mentioned why and I’ve never asked, but as soon as her head hits the pillow she is out like a light. Shaking the bottle, I push down on the cap and twist to release the child lock. I look down into the bottle and tip a single tablet into my hand. The tiny white pill seems to fascinate me as I run my eyes over the imprint. How can something so miniscule provide such a welcome escape from yourself? From your mind and your thoughts?

  I hold the bottle up to the light and squint at the faded label. Two should do the trick. Two of these and I will be free until tomorrow. Free of emotion, free of feeling and free of the crippling anxiety I can physically feel weighing me down. Tipping out another tablet, I continue shaking the bottle until every last one is in the palm of my hand. My ears ring slightly as I jiggle around the pills. There must be around sixty here. Sixty chances to escape into nothingness.

  Letting the empty bottle fall to the floor, I pass the tablets from one hand to the other. A tear slips down my cheek and I furiously bat it away. After months of keeping my emotions bottled up, I have finally tired of crying. I am sick of seeing myself with a tear-stained face and red eyes. Leaning over the bathtub, I refill the glass with water and pop a sleeping pill into my mouth. My skin buzzes as I feel it slip down my windpipe and into my stomach. A rush of adrenaline hits me and I immediately feel a wrench of hope.

  I’m considering taking another one when my phone rings again in the bedroom. A sob escapes my lips as my chirpy ringtone drifts into the bathroom, echoing around the tiled room.

  I look down at the mountain of pills in my palm and silently cry. The tiny voice in the back of my mind eggs me on, telling me that if I just take these I won’t need to suffer any more. I won’t need to dread each day and lay awake each night. The awful churning inside me will stop. It will be like it never existed in the first place. I can go back to the person I was just a few months back. Everything will be erased. All the bad memories that are causing me to feel so horrendously low will be… gone.

  I glance at my watch and realise that I have been staring at the tablets for the past fifteen minutes. Raising another tablet to my lips with a trembling hand, I quickly throw it back before I can change my mind. My eyelids start to become heavy and I realise that the first sleeping tablet I took is starting to take effect. Fighting against it, I hold on to the edge of the bath as I start to feel a little woozy. Struggling to keep my focus, I accidentally drop the remaining tablets on the floor.

  There’s a bang downstairs as I desperately scramble around on the tiles for the pills. Locating another two by the sink, I frantically try to pick them up as my eyes glaze over.

  ‘Shirley?’ Aldo’s voice hits me like a rock as I realise that he’s here.

  Throwing myself at the door, I struggle with the lock as my legs give way beneath me.

  ‘Shirley! You knew the rules! One fucking hour!’ His footsteps become louder and I cover my ears to drown them out. ‘Shirley, stop playing around. Where are you?’

  I wrap my arms around my body and stare at the tablets in front of me.

  ‘Go away! Just leave me alone…’ My voice trails off into panic-stricken cries as I lie down on the tiles.

  ‘Shirley! Open this door or I’m going to kick it down!’ Aldo tries the handle one last time before proceeding to kick at the lock.

  Realising this is the last chance I will get to go through with this, I struggle
to get my eyes to focus and snatch as many pills from the floor as I can. Adrenaline surges through me as my body struggles to stay awake. Heaving repeatedly as I attempt to swallow the tablets, I manage to lean over the toilet bowl as vomit fires up my windpipe.

  Resting my head on the seat, the sound of Aldo kicking down the door is the last thing I hear as a strange warmth takes over my body. Finally letting go, my entire life flashes through my mind’s eye before everything falls into darkness…

  Chapter 17

  Slowly rolling onto my side, a searing pain fires through my temple as I attempt to lift my head off the pillow. Wincing in agony, I rub clumps of mascara from my dry eyes and breathe through the discomfort. The bed sheets stick to my sweaty skin as I realise I’m in my bedroom. The bitter taste in my mouth indicates that I have a hangover and the vomit in my tangled hair tells me it’s a bad one.

  Using whatever energy I have to sit up straight, my brow crumples as I notice Aldo curled up beneath the duvet next to me. My stomach churns and I clasp my hands to my mouth as vomit rises in my throat, before crashing back down into my stomach with a burn. Sensing my movement, Aldo sits bolt upright and lets out a gasp.

  ‘What are you doing?’ He shouts, his voice hoarse as he reaches out and grabs my forearm.

  My headache intensifies and I hold my head in my hands. ‘Can you not shout like that, please?’

  Turning to face him, I frown when I realise he’s fully dressed. I’m about to ask him why he’s in my bed when a lightning bolt hits me. The bathroom, the tears, the pills… Mortification runs through my veins and my cheeks flush violently.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ He croaks, dark circles hanging beneath his eyes.

  Licking my lips, every hair on my body stands on end as I rack my brains for something to say, anything at all to make light of the situation. What is the right answer here? How are you supposed to feel the morning after an attempted suicide?