My feet carry me through the resort and onto the firm part of the sand. The sun is already making the day too hot, and I’m sweating before I’ve really even gotten started. The sand gives under my feet with each step. Eventually the rhythmic pounding of my own feet takes me to the meditative place where my thoughts don’t circle. They feel more manageable in this state, with my heart rate up while moving my body.
I have no headphones, so the only sounds are my labored breathing, my feet pounding on the sand, and the crash of the waves. My view is of untouched beach, the occasional person on a walk or hunting for shells, a forest of palm trees, and the water lapping the shore. I was never really a beach guy before coming to Mexico, but this is undeniably soothing.
It doesn’t take long for me to start to feel like myself again. I’ve been shaky since leaving the gym this morning, but with every step, I feel steadier, stronger. More like myself.
The doctor said that anxiety will likely never go away fully, but that there are tools out there to help me live and cope withit, like therapy and medication. I know running isn’t therapy—therapy is therapy—but there is something healing about all of this, and not just because I’m running in a beautiful place.
My thoughts and all the feelings knotted up inside me start to untangle.
If the name for what happened at the gym today is panic attack, then I think what happened last night during my conversation with Abby is a pre-panic attack. Or a mini panic attack. It felt so similar: the way my chest tightened, the way the world started feeling off, how sweaty and shaky I was.
I was so scared to lose her, and the conversation just kept slipping away from me. I was losing control and all I could hear were my own thoughts. I couldn’t hear what she was really asking for. The anxiety was so loud.
Back in my room after the fight, I thought I had been an asshole, but maybe I was just on the verge of a panic attack. I guess both of those things could be true, but I still wish I’d known this about myself so that last night could have gone differently.
Because now that I’m not overwhelmed with the fear of losing her—because I already lost her—I can clearly see that what she was asking for was reasonable. More than reasonable. It was way more logical than what I wanted.
Of course Abby’s voice matters to me, and I hate myself for ever making her feel otherwise. I cringe thinking about how she begged me to hear her. I can’t change the past now, but I do need to figure out how to manage going forward.
If I want a chance with Abby, a real one, I can’t let what happened the other night happen again.
Maybe I’m not broken, or maybe I am. Either way, I’m going to fix what I fucked up.
24
ABBY
“Honey, we’re home!” Hazel’s voice calls out from the front door where she’s let herself in. She’d had a spare key since I moved in and knows she’s always allowed to just come over whenever. She doesn’t abuse it, and it comes in handy when she comes over in the evening.
“And we come bearing gifts,” Winnie says, her voice carrying from the bottom of the steps up to where I am in the living room.
Seconds later, the girls appear at the top of the steps, Winnie with pizza boxes and Hazel with a cat carrier and a six pack of beer.
“Oh my god, you are so tan,” Winnie comments as soon as she sees me. She takes the pizzas to the kitchen, sets them on a table, and wraps me up in a hug.
“No fair, I wanted the first hug!” Hazel whines from behind us.
“Your arms are full,” Winnie points out.
“Please, ladies, there’s enough of me to go around,” I say and take the beer from Hazel, handing it off to Winnie. Hazel sets down the cat carrier and picks me up with her hug.
“Ten days is way too long without you,” Hazel says.
“You guys had a video call,” Winnie says.
“Only twice!” Hazel protests.
“It’s so good to see you guys,” I tell them after I’ve been released from all hugs. I crouch down in front of the cat carrier and scratch at the mesh between me and a beautiful gray senior cat.
“Hi, Captain.”
He rubs a chubby cheek along the mesh where my finger is.
“Did you have us bring him because you’re adopting him?” Hazel asks.
I look up to where Hazel and Winnie are watching me and Captain expectantly.
“Yes,” I say, and they both squeal, drawing me into a group hug once I’m standing again.
