Trash

The thoughts pour in silently. A steady stream of chaos.

This shirt is too tight. She can tell you’re sucking it in. Did he just look at your ass? Probably because it looks gross in these pants. Oh God, she feels bad for you, huh? She has to. I mean, look at you. Quick, smile back.

I take a step back and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the glass separating me and the mounds of bagged frozen vegetables. Frumpy, lifeless tufts of hair framed my hollow cheeks. I truly looked dead inside.

I felt dead inside.

I sighed as my heavy fingers clung to the icy door handle. Corn? Green beans? I sighed again. What’s the point? I’ll still be twenty pounds too heavy, thighs thick with cellulite. White Castle sliders? Perfect.

Yeah perfect.

Finish it off with some ice cream why don’t you. Pathetic.

Why am I like this? Why?

Don’t you ever shut up? I try to remember the last time there was silence in my head, but I can’t.

I continue my shopping as all my thoughts get stuck on a loop in my mind.

My anxiety grows as the thoughts become louder. They come pounding in now, like hail on a tin roof. My heart is going to explode, No. It isn’t. Now calm down. Oh my God, I can’t breathe. Yes you can. Stop. But, I can’t. My thoughts shuffle faster than a black jack dealer.

I can’t remember what else I needed from this stupid place. You are so fucking stupid, You can’t even take a trip to the store.

The store is so hot and crowded. Ugh, you pig you are sweating through your shirt. Eww that man totally just noticed all your sweat didn’t he? How long have I been holding my breath?

Inhale.

Wait. Don’t think. Wait. Count. Breathe. Walk. Breathe.

Just go to the counter, pay and go home. You can come back later. Wait. Wait. Breathe. You’re okay. Count.

Walk. Breathe. You’re okay. You. Are. Okay.

I made it. I’m in line now.

See you’re almost done. You are okay.

I keep my eyes down to the floor and focus on my breathing.

Four. Seven. Eight.

The magic breathing technique or so they say. It seems to be working, for the moment.

Bright yellow lettering catches my eye on a nearby magazine :

“SHRINK THOSE INNER THIGHS!”

“ARE YOU MOM ENOUGH? ..And 10 ways you’re doing it wrong.”

If that wasn’t enough, giant arrows pointing to and labeling a swimsuit models back and elbow fat.

Triggered.

My heart rate starts to climb as I start to question my own self worth again. Do my inner thighs need shrinking? Am I mom enough? Surely not. A good mom would be able to take a real trip to the grocery store. Not be too drowned in her own thoughts and insecurities to grab her kids Mac’ N Cheese.

Four. Seven. Do I have elbow fat? What do my elbows even look like? They have to be worse than the models, right?

Four. Breathe. Seven. Stop.

You are okay.

I catch my reflection in the soda case by the register. I feel so ugly and inadequate.

“Hi! How are you today?” The cashier sounded happy and sincere. I try to squeeze a smile out but it’s stifled. Eyes dart towards the ground, “I’m fine, thank you,” I reply hoping that our conversation dies there. Not that I didn’t enjoy our exchange, I deeply did. I honestly do not feel worthy of holding a conversation. I know that I don’t matter.

I wish I did though. Maybe one day I will matter to someone.

I guess she hadn’t been sincere, our conversation ended before it began. It is my fault though. I obviously didn’t seem open to chat. I guess I really am the cause of my own demise.

I swipe my card and gather what I was able to get for this trip. Not much, but enough at least until I can try again tomorrow. Will this ever end? Hopelessness begins to set in as tears swell up in my eyes. I’m so tired of being this way.

A cool gentle wind hits me as I cross the threshold of one terrifying dimension into the next, slightly less terrifying one.

I’m trudging to my van, hands full of heavy bags. Why hadn’t I just brought them out in the buggy? Because you are stupid, that’s why.

The wind kicks up a receipt and my eyes track it through the parking lot. It’s twirling and swooping in the air so rhythmically I swear it’s dancing. In it’s own unconventional way it was beautiful. Happy and free. I started to wish I was the receipt. It was trash, but it was happy trash. Free trash. Not held down by anyone’s perceptions. Not forced into panic attacks with a mind conditioned against itself.

I’m smiling at the thought of being trash, so happy and free with this perspective that I had forgotten for a minute how heavy my bags are.

I’m at my van fumbling with my keys when I see this beautiful lady. The sun is hitting her just right and she’s glowing. She’s fumbling with her keys.

I’m taken aback with the realization. Imagine that. I smile. Hey, my true genuine smile, I haven’t seen that in awhile. Beautiful. I think to myself.