Reclusive Colin Grey is perfectly content with her ways of being holed up in her apartment working on her next novel. Recovering from PTSD and learning to manage her anxiety, her approach to life is on a day-by-day basis. Her perfect and planned day...
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I don't think there's anything wrong with the way I am. Except for maybe the insomnia and anxiety. And PTSD. Carl says I have PTSD. He thinks it's the reason I am always holed up in my apartment, avoiding public places as much as possible. I tried to convince him that I never really enjoyed going out, that I was always a homebody even before it happened. Carl said it sounded like I was trying to convince myself rather than him. He might've been right but I would never give him the satisfaction of admitting it because, for a therapist, he was quite sassy.
Carl also thinks it's unhealthy to barely leave my apartment and spend my hours hyper focussed on writing my next novel. I call it eliminating distractions. Carl calls it avoidance.
Sitting in his office, we discuss ways I can begin to feel comfortable in public again. These past couple weeks I've been making more of an effort to go out on my own. They started out rough, most of them ending with me bolting it home and having a panic attack. They were getting better and better each time I went out. Every once in a while I had setbacks and I constantly looked over my shoulder hyper-aware of my surroundings but I was working on it. But the thing is, none of them have been for leisure. Just the necessities, all trips no further than a couple blocks from my apartment. We were working on normal activities now.
"Take it slow, Colin. Something as simple as grabbing a coffee and maybe hanging out in a coffee shop for 15 minutes. You could even go to the park or for a walk. Baby steps." Carl suggests.
"Yeah, maybe," I reply, my gaze cutting to the window. The rain pelts down so hard that the window is blurred and the harsh sounds of wind are audible from inside the office building.
"What are some things you think you could do to make yourself more comfortable when you decide to go out?" he prods. I take a moment to think.
"Uh, maybe go with someone. If I bring a book it could keep me occupied."
"Those are both great ideas. Try it out before our next session if you feel comfortable and then we can talk about it."
With that, our session ends and I thank Carl before leaving. Exiting his office, I walk through the halls of the multi-office building. All sorts of businesses and people rent out of this building, some floors are even rented by the same company or person.
Stifling a yawn, I head towards the elevator, my eyes feeling heavy. A normalcy in my days now since my sleep doesn't seem to exceed four hours. On a good night.
Pushing the button, I wait for the elevator to arrive. With a ding, the door opens and I see a guy who seems about my age standing inside. He's large with dark hair and broad shoulders. He fills up a good amount of the elevator. His brows are furrowed as he looks down at his phone, something clearly bothering him.
I feel my stomach tighten at the thought of spending time in a closed space with someone unknown but immediately push the feeling away.
He is gone. He has been for months. Stop suspecting random strangers.
