A View From Inside

I just hate crowds

I have an intimate discomfort where there are groups of people. I am strange and quirky with this. People are under the impression that such discomfort should be across the board, but it is not. I find that I can ride subways and buses, but for brief periods. I can read before and be in a room full of poets, but a group of people in a room causes consternation. I can sit in a bar and drink with scores of strangers, but I can't work well with others. I'd rather not.

It's how my brain picks up the stimulus. And that's another reason why I built a dependency on alcohol. A beer here, a shot there, knocked off the sharp corners of groups, and gatherings of people. I am less ill at ease and far more sociable. I worked the night shift because that gave me the freedom to be alone, and to work without the pressure of being in a crowded office full of people for prolonged periods of time. I hated to come in and do overtime when I had to work with the crew.

That's one reason why I drank on the job.

Now, without alcohol, I only have the aid of LAMICTAL which works pretty good...sometimes. It has aided me in dealing with crowds better. I want more, but Nurse G won't give it to me. "You have Social Anxiety," she says. She reclines in her seat like she always does, never sitting up through the entire session until she is ready to rise to shake my hand in leaving. Yeah, I know about that. "Is that why you haven't be going to Dr. D's group?" Yeah, that's it. I asked you for more LAMICTAL before and you said no. "Dr. D. wants you to go to his session so that you can have exposure to groups," she crosses her hands over her expansive belly. I have a feeling that that's the case. Dr. D. is the one that likes to put me on crowded elevators. Something else that I hate. He's a real fucking comedian.

It's not that I can't do these things. I just avoid them at all costs. IF I can. And I do. I haven't been going to Dr. D's group for just that reason. He has been growing it since he first started it. I feel as if I've been tricked into joining in a group session. Something that I've been avoiding ever since I've been there. Now, with these great long stretches of sobriety, my Social Anxiety has been getting progressively worse. Soon, I fear, it will become intolerable.

"You need these sessions. They build in you the ability to handle these things on your own. You know, practice makes perfect," she says. I don't know about all that. But that's the reason why she is holding out on the LAMICTAL. By exposing me to all of this shit, she thinks she is helping me. Her and Dr. D. I strongly beg to differ. I'd rather have the drug. That's how I coped with it before. I had BUSPAR in my system. I took it regularly and it worked like a charm. Now that I'm homeless, I have to go through all the bullshit when it comes to meds. Before, I just asked for what I needed and got it. Now I have to deal with people who 'know better than I'. It makes me grit my teeth and clench my fist. I am enraged at this. It makes me more angry than relieved. "If you find you have difficulty in going to Dr. D's group next week, just come up here and knock on my door and we'll work through this." What are you going to do? Hold my hand and walk with me down to the session room? I think she thinks so. She might find me a little more difficult to handle.

I saw Dr. D in the waiting room earlier as I waited for Nurse G. We talked and I promised him that I would honestly try to make his session next week. I will earnestly try. He lets me know that he can't keep me in the group if I don't show up for the sessions. I agree with him, and I make a mental note of that. I don't want to be kicked out of the group. I may be a lot of things but I'm not a quitter. I can't stand a quitter.

Nurse G. doesn't realize that if I decide not to go to the group, why the fuck would I be in the fucking building? What? Does she really think that I get all the way to the door of the session room, and stand outside, struggling with going into the room? I'm not even in the same quadrant of space when I'm thinking about not going to his group. How in the fuck can I go to your office and not his session? If I make it onto the block, I'm going to the session room. By that time, it's not a problem. I've consigned myself to my fucking fate.

"You need the exposure," she continues. Yeah, right. Me and her might never see eye to eye. I might just stay with Dr. D's group, but ask to be removed from her sessions. But I've seen Dr. B. the other psychologist. He's a shit and three quarters. The man is living toilet paper. If I got to stay with one of them, I would rather it be her. Rock and a hard place, right?

It's late now. I'm tired, and there's no reason to keep going over this shit any longer. Thank God for the little LAMICTAL that I do get. I might be screaming now in this dorm to get the fuck out. I told you that I don't like living with a group of men.

I shut down, and close down my baby. It's late tonight. I've stayed up past lights out. Tomorrow I'll try the Morning Meeting again. That should be fun.

Peace to you,

Hobobob