Spotlight

18

TW: Ed, panic attack and body shaming.
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The week following the Australian Grand Prix was just as much of a buzzkill as the race itself. My schedule was packed with meetings about marketing, media training and logistics about better understanding the car to help me increase my performance on and off track. Boring, never ending, data filled- meetings throughout would take up the better chunks of my day.

Although the team had been surprisingly forgiving of my lack of performance during the first few races it did not mean that they would be tolerating it for an extended amount of time. Frankly the team's track record with drivers shows exactly how thin ice I was on. There was definitely a limit to the amount of rookie mistakes I would be allowed to make. I knew the pressure that came with being in the oh so sought after RedBull seat, hence the crippling anxiety that had started creeping up on me more and more frequently.

My physical health had been deteriorating to the point where keeping up appearances had become almost impossible. I was too stressed to eat or sit still thus resulting in me spending every free hour I had working out. The thought of eating made me feel sick and the anxiety had absorbed all my appetite, the only thing that seemed to drown out my spiraling mind was working out.

I had lost almost ten kilos since Jeddah and most of my clothes hung loose on my exhausted body. Sleep was not something I had been indulging in that much either. It was almost sad- three races into the season and the seat I had longed for for so long made me feel like dying. I obviously did not want to give up, I'd rather die than that, but at the same time I let myself fall back down into the hole I had dug myself for so long ago.

Three races in and my previously form fitting clothes had turned baggy, dark circles shadowed my eyes and my smile had turned upside down.

I had also been prohibited from seeing or talking to Iris. My father was dead serious on not letting me near my family until I had proven myself on track and with the three week break from racing I found myself desperately missing her. My heart ached for my favorite girl- the one person that could flip my mood in an instant. When I later awake at night I would scroll through my phone, tracing pictures of me and my little sister and feel my heart ache with longing.

It was currently ten days after the race and I had been called in for a meeting with Christian. I was gnawing at the inside of my cheek, anxiously fiddling with the fingers on my right hand as I marched toward his office. The door stood half opened so I just knocked carefully before stepping in. The man in question sat leaned back in his chair, clearly invested in a phone call but none the less gestured for me to sit down in the chair on the opposite end of his big dark desk.

The chair was clad in black leather and very comfortable. Sitting down I took the opportunity to have a proper look around, hawking at the details of his office like some starstruck fan.

The office was huge and absolutely spotless. The decor was mainly dark wood with leather chairs and couches and a big window overlooking the entrance of Hq. There were sleek shelves with portraits of RedBull podiums adorning the walls and pictures of his daughters on his desk.

As his voice changed, signaling that he was ending the call I shifted my attention back towards the boss man.

"Sorry for that, Jos never stops talking" He muttered the last part, seemingly annoyed but shoots me an apologetic smile that I quickly reciprocates with a nervous one.

"No it's fine" I leaned back in my chair and before I had time to stop myself I had started spinning around. Mentally facepalming as the chair turned back in the direction of my somewhat amused boss. As I internally scolded myself for my lack of impulse control my thoughts trail away to something else.