Who would have thought that a simple dinner with friends could feel like that? At the moment I am hiding in a bedroom, trying to get away from all the people. Officially I’m taking “pause” – which means letting myself cool down and recharge – but that’s not what’s actually happening. So far from it. My heart is beating like it’s trying to get out of my chest and in stead of calming down my mind has actually sped up.

See, this is not actually my dinner. Without getting into specifics, my mother is cooking for 19 people and since I live here (temporarily) I feel I need/want to help. Not to mention the fact that the dinner is for me too. So my brain (and my personality) want to help, but inside I’m panicking. So every time my mother can spare me I slip in here to “pause”. But the thing is, I CAN’T “pause”. I’m constantly on edge, my ears poised, waiting for my mother to need me again. Because I don’t want to ruin it by staying in here too long. But on the other hand I can’t handle more than a minute out there without needing a break.

I don’t care what anyone says. This is the definition of hell…