The Turning Point Pt. 2

As the elevator ascends, you feel a mix of relief and deep internal trepidation. Is this what social anxiety feels like? You feel relief that you haven't run into any colleagues who might ask the conventional and unnecessary nicety of “how are you?” only to move on to their next thought without pause for an answer that strays from “good, thanks” or “never better”. The truth would make people uncomfortable so you resolve to put on a façade and commit to neutrality amidst the turmoil in your heart.

The elevator doors open, and you step into the bustling office landing. The sound of ringing phones, clicking keyboards, and distant conversations fills the air. You take a deep breath, that somehow gets caught in your throat and barely makes it through your tight chest. You try again, attempting to steady yourself as you make your way, eyes cast down to your desk.

As you settle into your chair, you glance around the office. Colleagues are engrossed in their monitors, their faces focused and eyes fixated on screens. A few take sips from styrofoam coffee cups. It occurs to you that this is a really warped version of reality, where humanity seems to have escaped. They seem so distant from the world of emotion and pain that you experienced just hours ago. The contrast between this perfectly perfect office and your own shattered reality is jarring.

You reach for your laptop and realise that it’s at home on the floor where you had to abandon it last night. You move to the desktop monitor and boot it up. But the letters on the screen blur, and your mind wanders back to the hospital, to the sterile rooms and the anxious faces of your parents, ageing prematurely from the stress and uncertainty. The pain they’ve had to endure, despite the sacrifices and hard work of relocating to this land of opportunities. The weight of the situation presses down on your shoulders, making it difficult to focus on the mundane tasks before you. Click, click, click.

Throughout the day, you muster courage to smile and ask lots of questions to avoid being asked yourself. Your colleagues offer smiles and small talk, unaware of the turmoil within you. They discuss weekend plans (it’s only Thursday), office gossip, and upcoming projects. You listen, nodding politely and feigning interest when necessary, but your mind remains distant, replaying the traumatic events of the previous night.

***

Lunchtime arrives, and you find yourself staring at your bowl of half eaten veggie burrito getting stodgier by the minute. The ringing silence in the lunch room amplifies your feelings of isolation and separation from others. The out of body feeling reemerges, and you can see yourself in third person, sitting alone and lonely.

At least while working, reviewing documents project plans and presentations, the routine and mechanical tasks all becomes a refuge, a temporary escape from the raw emotions that threaten to consume you. Yet, in this quiet space, underneath the surface, the pain begins to emerge, and you wonder how long you can keep up this charade. Do people really live like this? Hiding their inner selves so intently, or risk being judged and alienated.

How many others are in your predicament? How many others are suppressing their reality...? Falsely hiding the truth of their true lives.

{to be continnued}