Aug
17
2011

Inside My Mind (Good Luck)

So Tuesday night at work I had a panic attack.  I have them ALL THE TIME but while I was having it I thought to myself I should write one out so that’s what I’m about to do.  I’d like to thank my buddy Jessalyn for being a rock star by telling me to take a Xanax (I already had) and let her know next time so she can love up on me.

Okay so here it goes.  This is exactly what happened to me Tuesday night.

I was standing against the wall looking at the empty rail wondering what I should do.  Should I go in the back kitchen and see if food needs to be taken out?  What if a guest comes in?  If I get distracted in a conversation I won’t be available to greet them in a timely manner and I’ll appear to be a shitty server when in fact I’m overly loving.  Fuck.  Well what if I just stand here?  Now I look like a douche with nothing to do.  Hmm…maybe I can clean a table.  Well fuck.  If I go up to someone’s table and clear up dishes that are empty while people are still at the table it’ll probably look like I think that server isn’t doing her job when I’m actually just wanting to help. Maybe I should sweep.  Sweeping is good.  I should sweep.

Okay shit.  My chest is starting to feel tight.  I think I’m getting dizzy.  What if I pass out?  That would totally suck then everyone would talk about me passing out and I’d be the sick girl who passes out.  I hate being the sick girl.  I feel sick.  Oh I’m dizzy.  I think I’m about to have a heart attack.  I have a fever.  Should I go ask Nicole to feel my forehead and see if I have a fever?  She’s a mom.  Mom’s have built in thermometers.  I don’t have a fever.  I’m a mom I can tell.  I’m going to go take Tylenol in case I have a fever.

Okay I took Tylenol.  My head is starting to hurt.  I think too much.  I hope I get a guest soon but not too many at one time.  I hope I don’t fuck anything up.  I really want to be good at what I do.  I want the guests to like me and my coworkers to respect me and my bosses to not think I’m an idiot.  I feel like I don’t belong anywhere right now.  I don’t fit in.  I can’t breathe.  Oh hell I can’t breathe and I’m going to faint I should just grab a broom and sweep to focus?  Holy mother of pearl I’m just going to get a Xanax.

Can people see me digging through my bag looking for it?  Could I get in trouble for taking it?   No.  No one can see me and I’m invisible in this place.  All of us are.  We’re supposed to just pop in, serve, be social and pop out.  Twenty minutes.  I just need twenty minutes.  Give me something to focus on.  There’s Chuck.  He’s funny and I feel super cool when I make him laugh for some reason.  I think I’ll stand there.  Ooh wait, I see Jessalyn!  I’m going to hover near her and get her karma.  She doesn’t think I’m weird.

That’s when she told me to come to her next time.  I’m the restaurant mom there but she’s become a source of comfort for me there and that’s a good thing because as popular as I can get to be I typically always feel like an outsider wherever I am so it’s nice to have a couple key people I know I can trust to know they care and if I hyperventilate and fall over they’ll help me think of a cool reason like I was karate chopped in the throat instead of having a panic attack over a piece of thread I can’t get off the floor.

Dude.  I told you I was fucking nuts.  I know that little bit is fast and rambly.  I just gave myself an anxiety attack writing about an anxiety attack.  That’s EXACTLY what goes on inside my head.  I think fast and I hover outside my own body.  The night came and I got a steady stream of guests and I started out rocky and dizzy but ended up kicking ass and getting a lot of people drunk and I brought home $177 so it turns out being crazy is manageable if you have Xanax and a good friend.

Holla.

Written by Julie Maloney in: depression

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