The latest Pokemon game comes out tomorrow. I love Pokemon. I’ve been playing since Yellow, Red, and Blue. I still collect the cards and plushes and t-shirts and watch the animes. I have a great time trading and battling online with friends, strangers, and some of my siblings. I’ve been excited about this game since the first mention of it. And (hurrah!) my local game store is having a midnight release. I haven’t been to one in years and I remember they were always fun. It’s a great opportunity to get some street passes on my 3ds and start my latest Pokemon adventure.
I don’t know if I can go. I’m scared. I’m not supposed to go places at midnight. There will be strangers there. They will want to talk. They’re excited and glad to see other Pokemon masters! Me too!
What if I say the wrong thing? What if, in the middle of a friendly conversation, all the talking creaks to a rusty halt, I get that LOOK, and those people I was talking with shift away from me as quick as they can? I did that thing again. Its kinda the social equivalent of ripping a huge fart. I didn’t mean too, I don’t know how to fix it, and the faux pas lingers.
So maybe I don’t go, right? Its not that big of a deal. I just didn’t feel like it right? Wrong. I did but I gave into the fear. I let the fear control me. Because it can get worse than what I’m feeling right now.
My head and stomach hurt. But if this fear gets worse I could end up vomiting. Vultures will vomit to get a predator to leave them alone. Its a low but genius tactic really. Is anyone going to blame me for not going? No. I’ve been vomiting. I could have a stomach bug. I could be contagious. I should rest in bed quietly with my books. But I know.
The vomiting is partially stress, partially psychosomatic, and partially evolution. In a sense I sort of did it to myself but not of my own volition. I would rather have diarrhea than vomit but my body, pushed to a mental and physical extreme it cannot find a way down from, expels the contents of my stomach. My brain must find a reason or release for this intense anxiety so vomiting is actually a very logical decision. Many poisons, from bad food or a poisonous plant or animal, cause anxiety as a result of the toxin’s effect on the nervous system. If something is trying to poison me my body wants to expel it as fast as possible and that fastest way is puke. Its a remedy as old as time.
But I know the difference. While I’m resting quietly in my room I’m hating myself. I might be silently crying. Maybe not. But I hate myself. Because I can’t handle something as easy as going to pick up a video game. A place I like going for a product I really, really want. I gave into the fear. I let it win this round and I hate myself. Cowards die a thousand deaths as the saying goes. And every time the disorder wins (which ever one it is) I lose a bit of myself. Next time it will be so much easier to give into the fear and the hatred I feel for myself will be that much more fierce.
So why hate myself? Right? Give me a break, me. We can’t win them all. Just go in the morning. Its cool. But what about when the clerk (which ever one it is, they both know me well by now) asks me where I was at midnight. They were sure I’d be the first one at the door, foaming at the mouth. I’ll laugh a little maybe. I’ll certainly smile.
“Oh, fucking migraine right?”
They commiserate. One of the guys who works there has migraines himself. The other has a mom and a girlfriend who have them. Those things suck. Screw up your plans and your life, right? Here’s your game. Glad you’re feeling better.
But what if I said, “Oh irrational fear of changing my routine, right?”
They’re cool guys. Both of them. When I go in and the store is quiet (most mornings) we chat about anime, games, podcasts, apps, all that cool stuff. I guess we aren’t really friends but we’re on more than just a customer-buyer sort of basis. I know a little about their lives and they know a bit about mine. We talk about rooting phones and emulators and other stuff. But not mental illness. That makes everyone uncomfortable. There’s this stigma and its not going anywhere. I wish it would and I hope to think that things like this blog make it easier for people to talk about a topic that used to be verboten. But here’s the unforgiving truth. If I mention that my anxiety disorder is to the point that it interferes with the enjoyment of my life I don’t have a disorder I am mentally ill.
Big difference there. And like my faux pas analogy earlier I didn’t mean to make everyone so uncomfortable, I can’t take it back, and that knowledge lingers. It changes how people see you. It changes the way they look at you. Its happened to me before and it will happen again. But the thing is chatting with the guys at the game store is one of the few social interactions I can carry out without screwing it all to hell. I stumble sure but its all cool. They’re sorta used to people with odd social skills. I recover and we’re good. I don’t want to make the game store a place I feel like I can’t go anymore. They won’t make me feel that but I will. I will get too tense knowing that I’m going to be tense. And yeah I should rip back the stigma of mental illness and fight the good fight.
But its nice to go somewhere where my mental illness doesn’t matter. Or hell doesn’t even exist. They don’t know about it and I don’t have to tell them. I just get to be that girl that likes JRPGs and anime and Night Vale and all that other stuff. I have to carry my mental illness around with me everywhere but everyone doesn’t have to be aware of it. They know I have OCD and autism down at my favorite used bookstore. Its cool cause I made the choice to tell a mom and her son with autism that I have autism too and the clerks overheard me. Also I put books back where they belong. People put them where they don’t belong and I put them back.They kinda like that about me. But I made a choice to share that about me. I get to make that choice everywhere I go. And some times its nice to just be another person. A person who is a little weird and probably overly enthusiastic at times but normal is a social construct that doesn’t exist and is boring anyway.
I’ve meandered a bit, as usual. But here’s the rub. Its Schrodinger’s cat but the outcome is all ready known. If I go I have my game. If I don’t I have my self hatred. Its the course that hasn’t been proven yet. We know that the vial will always break in the box. The issue at hand is whether I break or not. The outcome of the only two courses of action is all ready known. And it isn’t what they think or know or don’t think or know. Its me. Its what I think. Its what I feel at the end of this that matters to me.
The lady or the tiger?
Update: I went. It was super crowded but the guys were really organized so everyone was in and out fast. Had an asthma attack but I always take my trusty inhaler along. But I am exhausted. Good luck and good night.