Page 17 of Love and Other Mental Health Concerns
I don’t know what I wanted or expected as an ending to our night, but as I enter my apartment, I shut the door behind me and press my back against the cool wood. I ground myself to the sensation. So many conflicting emotions whirring around my head, my anxiety making it difficult to just enjoy the evening and accept that it went well. I am doomed to perseverate the social interaction, and my attraction to Nick will only make the doubts more intense.
And so, it begins.
That wasn’t a special night, it’s all just part of his charm. Maybe the rainy drive home is a signature move. Nick will be leaving regardless of my feelings; I could just enjoy whatever is offered and let it go in a few months. Can I do that though? If I wanted casual sex, wouldn’t I have found it by now? If Nick wanted me, wouldn’t he have made it clearer? Maybe he was just trying to make up for the intimidating side of him that I saw in his office that day when he scolded Keith.
My anxiety has a funny way of washing away hope and joy sometimes.
While I worry, I get ready for bed and make some nighttime tea. I grab my journal and sink into my giant, plush, sofa. I gothrough the routine that has pulled me from many an episode, preferring to get some sleep tonight. I write down the fears, the questions, the doubts, giving recognition to the thoughts running rampant through my brain. I do some deep breathing and begin the logical challenges to each unhelpful thought.
The overarching message I can then digest and accept for myself:Nick didn’t have to spend time with me tonight, he wanted to. He was warm and comfortable to talk with and could have left at any time. The awkwardness is the attraction, which might be mutual. I can be an enjoyable person, even if I do over think things. I can go to sleep and not worry that tonight went at all negatively. I don’t need to decide how I feel about a person after one meal together.
Thank God for Therapy.
I send an email to request my next appointment.
CHAPTER TEN
Marcy
I wake in a state of confusion.
Instead of being tucked in my faux down nest of a bed, I am stuck in my couch cushions and sweating under a thick throw blanket. My journal has fallen to the floor, which I realize as I roll myself onto it, hitting the ground in a flail as I fight to escape the trap that is my sofa.
I can’t stop sweating. I thought I was too young for menopause, but maybe I was wrong. I search for my phone, intending to start a self-diagnosis when I realize that my radiator is blasting heat, the first time it’s been on since last winter. I rush to turn it down and avoid turning my apartment into a sauna. The heat in the building is officially on, another sign that winter is coming.
Between waking on my couch, my time spent with Nick last night, and the subsequent anxiety spiral, my brain feels like it is in a fog. Since I stayed late at work last night, I can go in a little late today and decide to use that extra time for a run. I hate running, but love the endorphins, and what it does for my brain. With a diet largely comprised of creamy soups and extra thick sandwiches from Harolds, my heart also appreciates the cardio.
Dressed in my workout gear and playlist cued up, I take some deep breaths of the crisp morning air and start my jog through town and toward the river, where I can take a pathalong the water. This time of morning, the path is still quiet. The hordes of college students are still sleeping, parents are getting their kids to school, and others are off to work. The paved trail winds along the river, through what feels like an eternal arch of fall foliage. I get lost in the colors, the calm of the moving water, and the rhythmic pounding of my feet. 2000’s hits blare in my ears, T.I. currently reminding me that I can have whatever I like. Motivation to move unlocked.
A couple miles into my run and I am feeling the mental relief as my body glides over the pavement. My favorite spot on the trail is approaching, an old bridge that is now only used for pedestrians and bikes. Its rusted structure spans a wide part of the river, providing a painting worthy scene, always changing with the season. I pause on the bridge to stretch and watch the river debris float serenely by. I lose myself in a bit of a daydream, remembering when my mom would walk me to this spot so that we could throw sticks off one side and then race to other to see them float by. One of my few joyful memories that I have with her.
Deeply lost in the thoughts of my mother, and standing like a flamingo in a hamstring stretch, I am yanked back to reality by a gentle tap on my shoulder. Unfortunately, standing on one leg means that my balance is off, and in my startled state, I am quickly realizing that I am about to hit the pavement with the back of my head. I do hit something firm, but thankfully I am being cradled rather than concussed.
“Oh shit, Marcy, didn’t mean to scare you!” I can only hear because my headphones are now laying somewhere behind me, hopefully keeping my dignity company.
As my heart attempts to regain control, my brain is doing wild things trying to assess the situation I find myself in. Nick is holding me in his long and muscular arms, against a broad and shockingly shirtless chest. He isn’t sweating, he’s glistening,as only a gorgeous man can do while running. His shirtlessness in these temperatures only evidence that he is in fact from Minnesota.
“Marcy, is falling a regular thing for you, or are you reserving that experience just for me?” The headway I have made in stilling my racing mind since last night is all but evaporating. He’s holding me longer than he needs to, my body is betraying me by curling just slightly into him, and our contact is starting to linger. As he takes a soft bite of his bottom lip, I press off his chest in an awkward jump. That mouth maneuver now burned into the walls of my brain.
“No... no…you just scared me is all. Must have been deeper in thought than I realized.” Nick collects my headphones and phone, bending over in his running shorts, which is not helping my thoughts quiet. I took my rings off for my run and am regretting that decision right now.
“I really am sorry, I just wanted to say hi. Thanks again for last night, I had a really good time.” He smiles at me, while I try and look anywhere but at the bareness of chest, abs, and shoulders. All parts of him so well defined that I almost laugh at the perfection. My sweat now has nothing to do with my run. “I didn’t realize you liked to run!” He carries on, mindlessly running his fingers through his beard.
“I don’t. Like it, that is.” I am suddenly acting very interested in the float of the river. “It’s good for my anxiety, and the rest of my body of course.” He’s assessing me, golden retriever grin in full force.
“Do you run this route often? I am usually a gym guy, but I love running along the river here. So peaceful.”Yes, the whole town can see you are a gym guy, I think to myself.
“I do, I run a few miles multiple times per week. Mostly along the river here.” My vision still awkwardly glued to the water; I can feel Nick’s gaze on the side of my face.
“Marcy…are you avoiding looking at me?” I can feel instant heat in my cheeks. The way he is calling me out is infuriating.
“No, I’m…no. I can look at you. We are adults, and its socially acceptable for men to be shirtless.” My voice squeaks like a prepubescent boy with my awkward comment and now the heat in my cheeks is also traveling down my neck.
“Right…okay.” He leans over the rail next to me and is looking at the water now too. I can tell he is trying not to laugh at me, which makes me giggle instead.
“Ugh, okay. I can’t look at you. It’s too much, like you are some sort of enchanted sculpture come to life.” Now he’s really laughing, and I can’t help but join him. The shared laugh is making my nerves start to dissipate.
“Ya know, usually women have no problem looking at me.” He says as he starts blatantly flexing the muscles in his chest, having way too much fun with my embarrassment. He gives me a quick wink with that smug grin.
