Recovery Time for Trauma Survivors

You’ve planned all week for Friday’s dinner. You don’t get out much. Hyperawareness keeps you home most times. There are the buzzing hive sounds of every patron’s voice. There is the echo of the hustle and bustle. Surely, everyone in the establishment is looking at you, confirmed by the moments your eyes coincidentally meet more than one strangers’. See? They ARE looking at you!

But you’re gonna do it. You’re gonna push yourself, get out into the public and socialize. This will be great. You’ve already planned your outfit by Wednesday, maybe even trying it on to be sure. Pre-planning is finished with no Thursday worries except hoping that Friday you actually come through and show up.

Friday mornin you are ready. You are looking forward to it, actually. Friday afternoon you get a call. Change of plans. Dinner has been rescheduled for Saturday. Everyone else is cool with it, and so you say you are too.

but FUCK!

Saturday you’d planned to stay home and relax, watch a movie, have you time and anyways you’d been planning all week for Friday!

The glass bottom has just dropped out. You won’t make Saturday’s dinner. You’ll make an excuse that you already had other plans, which you did, even if they were with yourself, and you’ll grieve the lost chance to actually get out. You might feel like it Saturday, but doubtful.

Because it’ll be a while before you brave the human maze again. These moments are like rare sightings.

and that’s part of what it feels like to carry social anxiety and agoraphobia all the while smiling beautifully through your glowy mask. Too much change, even the slightest, can make some boats head back to shore for good.

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