Once I enter that spot with alcohol, the only way I can get out is to go higher, drink more, turn it all back off, try to black out. Tonight I was supposed to stay in the sweet spot. It took me a little while after coming here and going to a couple of parties to learn where that sweet spot was, but I eventually found it and was able to enjoy partying and going out with the girls. I never blacked out in that sweet spot. I never even felt terrible the next day, because my sweet spot lets me enjoy the night and avoid the hangovers too.
But I underestimated the way the Greek party. The alcohol they have access to is not the same alcohol I’m used to gauging my sweet spot off of. I know I screwed up when the last shot I took burned its way down my throat, and a warmth rushed over my body. That might sound nice in your mind, but in mine, it’s the first indication of a panic attack coming on. My body feels warm at first, and then my limbs start to tingle. It signals to my brain that we no longer have control over my body, and that causes instant anxiety. When I no longer have control over something, I feel in danger. I feel like I need to get out of wherever I am as quickly as possible and into a safe space. The thing is, when I’m like this, there is no safe space. The danger is in my head, and I can’t outrun that.
“Lydia! Come play beer pong with me! I don’t want to be paired up with some stranger who sucks!”
Lani hangs on me, smiling through her own buzz. She looks happy. She looks free. She doesn’t look like she’s drowning inside… I wonder if I look as scared as I feel, or if my face gives nothing away. I kind of wish it would, wish someone could see and save me somehow. But it doesn’t work like that. Nobody can fix the part of my brain that goes into an intense fight or flight mode at the drop of a hat. So I have to find a way to distract my mind instead. Sometimes being around the right people can bring my mind back to the present moment, back to reality, and out of the past, out of the panic.
I logically know that the thoughts causing this asphyxiation on my brain are not really happening, but that doesn’t stop my body from feeling like they are.
“Yeah, sure,” I tell her, letting her drag me over to a bright neon yellow table set up with pink solo cups to play.
When I’m able to trick my brain and distract myself from the thoughts, I can experience a little relief, even when I know it won’t last long. As we play the game, I can’t help but go in and out of this trance. It’s like I’m being pulled out of my body and thrown into the darkness, just to be continuously jerked back. You know that feeling you get right before the panic attack really starts or hits its peak? I feel like I’m constantly in that state. Like you know what’s about to happen, and you can’t stop it, but it never actually comes, and then that feeling happens all over again.
“Lyd!” Lani shouts.
I look at her in a haze, slurring a little. “Yeah?”
“It’s your turn, girl.”
“Oh, yeah…”
I take the ping pong ball and try to focus enough to throw it. Everything is already a little blurry from the alcohol, and mixed with the dissociation I’m coming out of makes me feel off-balance. I toss the ball, and it actually goes in one of the cups. Lani shouts in excitement and tells the other girls tosuck itin true Lani competitiveness. I laugh, feeling a little more grounded now.
I’m able to play the rest of the game without feeling too overwhelmed, and I gladly welcome it when the other girls score a shot so I can drink a little more, trying to reach my blackout point. I know I’ll regret it tomorrow, but I desperately need it right now. We end up winning, which means I definitely didn’t get enough alcohol in to quiet the noise yet.
“Let’s grab some more drinks and find Simone,” I shout to Lani above the music.
As I’m standing in the kitchen of one of the random sorority houses on Greek Row, trying to find the drink option with the strongest alcohol content, I hear someone call my name. I jump at the deep voice, knocking over the cup Lani had just poured herself.
“Shit! I’m sorry, Lani!”
I look around frantically, trying to find something that I can wipe up the spilled alcohol with, when someone hands me a wad of paper towels. I look up to realize it was Chase, and he’s the voice I heard say my name. He’s looking down at me, smiling, amused by my clumsiness.
“Found you,” he says smoothly.
For a moment, I’m stuck in another kind of trance, one fixated on a man I’m still very confused about the fascination he has with me. Embarrassed at myself for just standing there staring, I quickly turn back around to the mess at hand and bend down to wipe it up.
A solid chest presses against my back as Chase reaches his arm around my body and places his hand on top of mine. “Let me clean this up.”
I turn to look at him, and our faces are only inches apart as he’s now bent down behind me in the same position.
“But,” I stutter, feeling a different type of intoxication now. “I’m the one who spilled the drink—”
He gently takes the paper towels from me and stands up, reaching a hand out to help me up. “But I caused you to get all flustered and jump like that.”
I give him my best offended look. “I didnotgetflustered.”
He bends back down and starts cleaning up the mess on the floor before looking up at me.Wow. Something about him in this position, looking up at me like that, makes my body heat…and it’s not the same warmth that normally scares me. It’s dangerously lower than where the panic starts. It has me feeling a little weak. He smiles like he knows the effect he’s having on me, and it’s a little annoying to feel like I’m that easy to wind up. I mean, damn…I haven’t even kissed anyone else since…since that random beach house party before graduation, and now I feel like I’m about to explode from just a simple look. Whatever this feeling is—lust, infatuation, stupidity—it has my mind completely void of any other thought.
I like that part.
Lani is too distracted talking to another girl after she made herself a new drink to even notice the interaction.
Chase stands back up and throws away the soaked paper towels and cup. “You’re cute when you’re flustered. Your cheeks go a little red, and your lips part just slightly. It’s kind of hot.”
I quickly close my mouth, which I’m acutely aware of being open now, and place my hands on the counter behind me to steady myself.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. You must be imagining things,” I tell him, trying to sound convincing, like I’m not an actual puddle right now.
