So, I have a hard time around people. Typically people that know me have a hard time believing this.

Tonight I went to a Halloween party with some really lovely people. I was scared to go Not the sort of scared that happens before going to a haunted house or a roller coaster. It is the sort of scared that you feel when you're about to tell your parents that you failed a test. You know they won't understand. That you'll get a very unkind lecture, probably some yelling and insults. Then, afterwards you walk away believing that you can't do better even though you should.

When I got there, it was maybe a crowd of 12 people. I knew two of them and had met one of them in passing. I sat in the corner and stared at my phone and at the floor interchanging between both of them when it felt appropriate.

Food was served maybe 20 minutes in. I had said perhaps, 4 or 5 words. Most of them with only one syllable. Which is really embarrassing for me to admit because I think of myself as being a talented communicator. My unique word choice, tone, and word choice is really important to me. I've been called an efficient speaker, and also quite eloquent. Pretty, has been used. Those compliments mean the world to me. More so than when people compliment my looks or other skills. This one means the most to me.

When the crowd gathered around the kitchen I spirited away to the restroom and cried. Ugly tears. Well... Ugly sounds unkind. I cried with an open mouth and snot bubbles. I don't know why I cried. I have a few ideas now, but at the time I didn't know why. I felt out of control. I was scared. This fear wasn't the anticipatory fear spoken about above. This fear was the fear of being in present danger. The fear that comes from being in danger. A fight. I felt as though someone was going to actively hurt me or wished to do me harm. I remembered the times when I was assaulted or I was in danger.

I felt in danger at that moment. Logically I knew I wasn't and there was nothing I could do to stop crying. To feel safe. I left the party.

I walked downstairs. The trip from the bathroom to outside the apartment was quick one. I timed it so there was no one looking from the kitchen to the door.

I went to the vestibule. A corner off of the entrance where no one seemed to be and cried for about 15 more minutes.

A good friend messaged me. She offered to take me home. She held me and I cried. Oh. That was so safe. I felt so safe being held. I hugged her, I cried, I wiped my snot off onto my coat sleeve then I cried more. I told her these things. I was vulnerable and I was safe. Oh. To be vulnerable and safe.

She offered me a ride home. We talked. I went back into the apartment after getting some ibuprofen from her car. I had a fun night. It wasn't awful. It was very hard. I don't know if I could have done that on my own. I don't think I could have.

I cried because I went to a party. I was scared because I went to a party. I recognize that these emotions may be more common then I feel like they are. I'm learning to be kind to myself. So, I'm going to practice that now.

What happened is unpleasant and okay. And also something that I feel doesn't happen to most people. I don't want to go through that again. I had another party. I wanted to go. It was tonight. November 1st. I didn't go. I told them what happened and then passed out. I slept for 14 hours.

When I was coherent again we sent each other text messages. There wasn't time for me to go. Today was my tranniversery. 4 years on HRT. This is bigger than my birthday. I spent it alone. Someone I don't know sent me a pizza over on random acts of pizza. It was sweet. Something inside of my brain prevented me from spending time with people I care about. People I love.

This is what anxiety looks like. This is what PTSD looks like. This is me. My mental illness. It's really hard. I've been hospitalized for it more than 4 times. Less than 8. Maybe 6? I don't really remember because some of those times have been after suicide attempts.

I have issues. And that is okay. I want to live and a part of that for me is handling this. Because I don't trust anyone else to, and because this is my life. And that's unfair. I don't deserve PTSD, anxiety, depression or any other mental illness that I have. And I'm going to try and live the best I can with what I have.

I just want to. And I don't want my mental illness to keep me alone. Because they're not my fault. So I'm going to work to be the best person I can be. And that will probably mean that I cry in moments that are unusual. And that is okay.

It has to be okay because otherwise I will not live a good life. I need to accept that. And I'm going to. deep breathe it is okay.

I'm crying right now in fact. That's okay. I want to cry because it's real but it's scary to cry alone. I live alone. I'm scared that I'm going to stay alone because of my symptoms. I don't want to be alone for the rest of my life because of something that I can't control. I want to be held again. I want someone to kiss my forehead and flirt with. I don't want to be alone anymore.

It's 4 in the morning again.