Incredible Beauty (2 page)

Being in a relationship and opening your heart to trusting another person are two completely different things. One did not automatically assume the other. If the last few months had taught me anything, it was that relationships are hard work. Early on, even the most trivial things, like him leaving squeezing the toothpaste from the middle of the tube, or not putting his dirty clothes in the hamper turned into a huge crisis. I’d never had to deal with that before, being around someone all the time and having to deal with each other’s little quirks. Now, some of those things are among the things I loved most about him.

I loved everything about Simon, from the twinkle his eyes got when he was amused by something, to the way his lips tasted when he kissed me. Even with all that love came the times when he annoyed the hell out of me. He could be so overprotective of me and our baby that it made me want to scream.

Regardless, I loved him and if anything I think I loved him too much. That sounded ridiculous I know, but I loved him to the point where I worried about him not being around. My new psychiatrist explained that my way of coping with my anxieties was to transfer the underlying issues on to something else, or switch the focus, so to speak.  It made sense and I guess that explained why I didn’t like talking about it, as to me it made my progress with my issues not nearly as impressive and honestly, I hated that I depended on him so much.

Entering the bathroom, I had to admit there were things about this three bedroom brownstone I really loved. Anyone who knew me would attest for my hatred of new things, which included moving out of my little apartment and into this house with Simon. It had taken a lot of convincing to get me to agree to the move, but in the end here we were and not that I would give Simon the satisfaction of being right, but I loved it here. I loved it because it felt like home.

There was something so nice about living in a small coastal town. It was relaxing. The city was probably not the best choice for a recovering agoraphobic, but here, I could see myself wandering down the street with my baby in its stroller meeting my fiancé for lunch. I hoped I could one day get to that point.

 In gaining control of my agoraphobia, I almost felt as if I was losing control, if that even makes sense. Sometimes I feel like I’m on a downward spiral, where everything works me up and the smallest thing is capable of blowing up into these huge disasters where I feel like everything is falling apart. It’s like the anxiety I used to feel (and still do) about leaving the house has now spread into every aspect of my life.

My argument with Simon was a perfect example of this. Another example was two months ago, when I decided to go outside and get the mail. It had taken me so long to finally gain the courage to step out of my house, that afternoon that I had almost forgotten why I had ventured outside in the first place.

I took one step at a time down the front steps, as the morning sun shone down on my shoulders. The path to the mail box, though only twenty feet, felt like miles. To this point I’d never gotten past the front step on my own. It felt amazing as I placed one foot in front of the other, focusing on the lines separating each paver, counting them, one, two, three and four. I forced my mind not to focus on the fact that I was outside and vulnerable. I thought about my fiancé, Simon. He would be home soon and he would be so proud of what I’d accomplished today.

My fiancé. It was still so strange to say it.

To the outside world, our seven month relationship might seem rushed, but sometimes you just know that this person is the one and that’s how I felt about Simon. In the early part of our relationship, with all that had been going on in both our lives, I didn't have time to doubt the pace that things were moving at, which in hindsight, had been a good thing.

Simon had brought out capabilities in me, I didn't even realize I had. Strength, love and the ability to try to overcome my fears. If things had progressed at a slower pace, then I know the doubts would've crept in and possibly ruined the best thing in my life.

The distraction had worked, because before I knew it, I’d reached into the mailbox with my shaking hands and grasped hold of the mail. It was then I saw them. A group of teenage boys, walking home from school. They were passing the house next door, heading toward me. I began to panic, tears pricking my eyes as my pulse quickened. The fear had hit me like a bat out of hell. It was swirling its way through my mind; my arms tingled and my stomach wretched as the panic attack began to grip hold of me. I fell to the ground crouching up against the fence, hyperventilating and shaking uncontrollably. One of the boys leaned over the fence to check that I was okay. It was only after I shouted at him to leave did they continue on. I sat there, terrified, against the fence for ten minutes before I worked up the courage to get back inside.

That was over two months ago and I never told Simon what happened that day.

I'd love to be able to tell you my agoraphobia is gone. That I can walk down the street, shop, go out for dinner with Simon; things most young women would take for granted, I'm not though. Can I leave the house now?

Yes, but not without the crippling anxiety that almost makes me want to turn back to the comfort of my own home. The security that those walls provide is something I will never be able to explain and every action of stepping outside my comfort zone is excruciatingly hard, yet I force myself to do it. I have to do it because I can't let myself go backwards. I want to be able to do things with Simon and our baby and play with Maddie in the park.

Every day is a struggle, but one I need to fight.

Walking out of the bathroom, I canceled the alarm on my cell with only moments to spare. I grabbed my robe and wrapped it around me, heading for the kitchen. I needed coffee, real coffee, the kind that smelt delicious and trickled down my throat, giving me a much needed boost of energy to start the day. Instead, I reached for the decaf, the ‘organic’ blend Simon had so kindly brought for me.

Armed with my cup of flavorless tar (well, it tasted like it) and the newspaper, I sat in my recliner which overlooked the window out into the back garden. Maybe I'd even venture outside today and do some gardening.

Who was I kidding? I'd spend the day lying on the sofa, reading a book or two and probably gorging myself with the chocolate hidden at the back of the pantry (thanks Cass).

Simon had gone all food Nazi on me since we’d discovered I was pregnant. For now that was okay, because he was away so much of the day working, I could still enjoy my little treats from my hidden stash. The paranoid part of me relocated the stash every few days, for fear of him finding it. If only he knew how much junk I was eating each and every day.

Did I feel guilty when we sat down to our dinner of grilled fish and stir fried vegetables?

Hell no, he was probably eating as much junk as I was when he was at work and I was sure he didn’t feel guilty about it, so why should I? Besides, I’m sure I read somewhere the benefits of eating chocolate when pregnant.

Flicking on the TV, I ran through the channels until I found something acceptable to watch, if you could call General Hospital acceptable. It took me all of five minutes to figure out who was doing who and who was hiding what life changing secret from who, when the doorbell rang. Shows like this I could tune into once a month and still get into the story, so this was an unwelcomed distraction.

"Em!" Cass's muffled voice yelled. "Let me in!" I heaved myself off the sofa, annoyed at having to drag myself away from my new favorite show, to let her in. What was the point to giving her a key if she was going to make me answer the door anyway? That kind of defeated the purpose.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her hand on her hip as she surveyed me, confused.

"Nothing, why?" I had no idea what she was on about.

"Did you forget?" she asked, rolling her eyes. Forget what?

Oh shit, that's right, my appointment. Simon was going to meet me there because coming back to get me would've eaten too far into his day. We had arranged last week with Cass for her to pick me up.

"I completely forgot," I muttered, ready to blame the pregnancy hormones again as I reached up to scratch my head. "Give me five minutes." I said, pushing her to the living room. “Why don’t you use your key?” I added, rolling my eyes.

“I forgot it,” she said defensively, "get ready and take your time, I'm early anyhow."

“So put it on your key ring, with your car keys. That’s what it’s for, you dickhead,” I muttered as I walked down the hallway. Where did she keep her own house key, in her sock drawer?

Back in the bedroom, I pulled on a pair of elastic waisted jeans and a long sleeved tunic. Running a brush through my hair, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes were puffy, my skin was pale and my hair was in need of a good wash.

God, I looked like shit. I thought pregnancy was supposed to leave you glowing, not looking like you just crawled out of a drain pipe.

"Why haven't you unpacked yet?" Cass called out.

"Because, I'm pregnant and Simon won't let me lift anything," I replied loudly. I walked back into the living room and rolled my eyes at Cass, who'd made herself at home, lying on the sofa eating my homemade cookies.

"These are pretty good," she admitted, between mouthfuls. “You look like shit,” she added, grinning at me.

"You sound surprised and thanks," I laughed. She knew how much I loved to cook. She shrugged, shoving the last of the cookie in her mouth before standing up and brushing crumbs onto the floor.

"Thanks Cass," I sighed. She looked at me innocently, her hands turned upwards as if to say ‘what?’

"Come-on, let's get going," I said, grabbing my purse and scarf.

As we walked out to Cass's car, I focused on making it to the passenger door. I glanced up and down the street looking for pedestrians, not wanting to put myself in the position where our paths might cross. Looking at me, you'd never know I was agoraphobic. I still used the term myself, because in my mind that’s what I was until I no longer felt the anxiety and stress when I left the house.

If I couldn’t go out alone, then I wasn’t over it.

I was getting better at putting on a front. Even people that should know me well enough were fooled into thinking how far I'd come, like my mother and my father. I think that it made them feel better about themselves and our relationship if I was successfully working through my issues.

There were some people I couldn't fool though, like Simon and Cass. If I spent all day, every day, outside I
still
couldn't trick either of them into believing I was better. Now with this pregnancy, I had a whole new set of things to worry about, like whether I was actually even going to be a mother or not. There were so many things that could go wrong, it was hard not to focus on the negative.

Since Derek was killed, my nightmares had subsided, but it was like my mind had replaced one set of worries for another. All the time and effort I'd spent worrying about Derek and his release were now put into worrying about this baby, worrying about whether I could be the wife and mother that this baby, Simon and Maddie deserved and worrying about everything in general.

For ten years I'd been so sure that all my problems centered around Derek and my attack and while I'm sure they played a big part in shaping my anxiety and the way I dealt with things, the fact was there was never going to be an end or a magic fix. There was always going to be something for me to focus on, something to turn around in my mind, something to drive myself crazy with. That was the biggest thing I needed to comprehend, I was never going to be better. The best outcome for me was to learn how to manage my anxieties.

Dealing with my agoraphobia felt like a double edged sword. On one side, I was gaining control of my life by not letting it beat me, but on the other side, I felt like I was losing control of the only thing that made sense to me.

Confusing right? The only way I would improve, was to work through the issues behind the symptoms. That’s all this all was when you broke it down, a symptom.

As I walked down the path toward her car, I forced myself to focus on the good things I noticed, like the smell of rain in the air, the feeling of the wind gently blowing in my hair. Catching Cass glance at me, I gave her a smile.

"I'm okay," I said. She smiled back, words not necessary to show her encouragement.

Simon being away so much for work, meant Cass had stepped up big time to be my support. While Tom and I were still friends, he and Cass being together had affected the dynamics of our relationship. Losing that closeness with Tom was sad, but it had made my relationship with Cass that much stronger, something I hadn’t even known was possible. We’d always shared everything, but now it was like on a completely different level.

It felt weird and awkward to share my deepest and darkest feelings with Tom, when Cass was sharing private information about their relationship with me, information that meant I couldn’t look at Tom sometimes without laughing. Last week Cass had insisted on telling me all about the fantasy she and Tom had played out. Let’s just say it involved nipples, shaving cream and a sizeable dildo.

That girl had no shame.

I stepped off the sidewalk and made my way around the car, my hand never losing contact with the shiny metallic surface of the car. Once I reached the door, I quickly opened it and climbed inside, locking the door, my throat constricting as I fought to breathe.

Focus Em. You did it. You made it.

Breathing heavily, I couldn’t help but feel proud of myself. Part one of this outing complete.

Chapter Three

Emma

The clinic was only a ten minute drive from our house, across from the beach and just up from the mall. It was only my second time here. My Obstetrician was a lovely woman named Teresa Lewis who had come highly recommended to us by Doctor Lazonski, a friend of Simon's we had been seeing when we lived back in the city.