Yours Truly (Part of Your World, #2)

by Abby Jimenez

I could feel the tunnel vision of an anxiety attack plucking at the edges of my sight, and I wondered how long I had until I’d have to get up and go, whether it was appropriate or not. They sat there, looking at me like they didn’t

I was going to deal with the shock wave of this news in layers. My own feelings about it, and then everyone else’s, dumped on me like ice water over and over until I was drenched in it.

I knew from years of therapy that I was ruminating.

I’d always had a hard time making new friends. I got nervous in unfamiliar social settings, so I would say the wrong thing or become withdrawn, so it took time for people to warm up to me.

Places I knew were less stressful for me because I had a sense of how loud it was going to be, how crowded. I wouldn’t have to ask anyone where the restrooms were. Sometimes I’d Google a place

The second I started to notice the glitchy, staticky feeling creeping in, I made a concerted effort to exercise and get enough sleep. I cut out alcohol, processed sugar, and carbs, tried to eat more whole foods. Journaled. It all helped. And right now I needed all the help I could get. I was teetering on some precipice, trying not to fall. Amy and Jeremiah, my family, my new job—all of it prodding me to the drop-off.

They are completely worthless as partners. Did you know that when a wife becomes seriously ill, she is six times more likely to be abandoned by her spouse than a husband is?”

I blinked at her in horror. “That is disgusting.” “Yes, it is.” She agreed. “But remember, you can’t spell disappointment without men,” she sang.

But having men as friends and peers and family is very different than having them as partners. Everything Mom had told me my whole life about being in relationships with men turned out to be true: They can’t be trusted. They can’t be relied upon. Men will always hurt you and leave you and let you down.

I was so disgusted, so severely disappointed by what Nick and Dad ended up being. And it was reinforced daily, with every battered woman who came into my ER and every idiot I met on Tinder. It didn’t even surprise me that I couldn’t even find one decent enough for casual sex. The only ones on the dating apps who seemed to have their shit together always turned out to be married, which only further confirmed my opinion of dating men in general.

It took me a long time to feel comfortable doing a lot of things in front of someone.

relaxed a little. I had to remember that not everyone overthought everything the way I did. Wouldn’t it be amazing to live like that? To not carry that burden around with you. To not feel constantly overwhelmed and overstimulated and second-guess every little thing.

I wish

She poked at her soup. “I don’t think he wanted to die so much as he just doesn’t have any interest in living like this anymore.”