I have wanted to write, but I’ve been too busy. I have written, but then I don’t think it’s good enough. Then I emailed my boyfriend about this experience I had and thought it would make a good blog entry. It’s about anxiety.
I work as a secretary at a high school and this morning a couple came in at 8:58 for a 9:00 meeting with the principal. He was still in another meeting and not in the office. So the couple sat down to wait. By 9:05 I was wondering if the secretary they had talked to when they came in was going to go get the principal. They did have a meeting at 9:00, and it was now five minutes after that. By 9:08 I was about ready to go get him myself because that’s too long to have to wait. 9:12 rolled around, and I couldn’t believe they hadn’t freaked out about the fact that the principal still hadn’t come down and no one seemed concerned in the least. I was about to freak out! My anxiety levels were going up and up, despite telling myself to keep calm and not think about it. Finally, at 9:14 the principal walked into the office, and finally, I was able to start calming down. Start—because it took awhile.
It sounds so stupid, doesn’t it? It didn’t even have anything to do with me! The couple sitting there seemed calm and patient, and even if they weren’t, I wasn’t involved in the situation, so why should I care? But time gives me so much anxiety. I hate being late. That doesn’t mean I never am, but I try as hard as I can not to be because I know that it will give me anxiety. And that’s what mental illness is. It doesn’t make sense. But it still is.