What kind of disease is this?
I am scared to be alone. It scares the shit out of me. Last week, I had a panic attack – and since then, every time I am alone, my mind goes crazy. I want to be with someone, I want to talk. Please don’t let me be alone. How can I tell this to anyone? “It is no big deal to be alone, after all,” they will reply. Moreover I do not like begging, although in all respects, I certainly am a beggar.
I do not like begging. I do not want to show anyone my medical prescription and then tell them to stay with me. It wouldn’t feel the same compared to a friend who wants to stay with me.
It happened two years ago. I fell into depression. The severity and frequency of panic attacks were quite high. I wouldn’t tell you how I fell into it, as that would be another attempt at begging people to understand and sympathise with me. I do not need sympathy, and never will.
So, two years back, I started taking medicines. Things improved. I got into a nice job and met a wonderful girl. Everything was fine, till recently. The panic attacks started again. Every time it happened, something changed inside me. The range of emotions I could feel lessened. The love I had for the girl decreased. I slowly fell out of love. She was devastated when I told her – “Trust me, I never meant to hurt you. I decided that I want to stay alone forever. After all, I was no longer capable of loving deeply and honestly. This was my second relationship – and the first time I had loved with all my heart. But was it fair on your part to demand that the only conclusion to our relationship should be marriage? Did I ever demand anything more than a good friendship? I did love you, but things changed. You see I could no longer trust myself. Therefore, I could not make that promise.”
So, life came full circle last week. I had another attack. This time, it was different from the other ones. I was dying to be with someone, to talk to someone. I couldn’t – all my friends live far away, and Tinder doesn’t seem to be good for average-looking people like me.
I want be befriend someone – without worrying about marriage in case we become very good friends. Neither am I demanding sex. I just need someone to talk to.
Sex is another aspect of my personality I would like to share. I have been to a prostitute – well almost. I have called several pimps, but I always cancel at the last moment. I don’t give a fuck to what society thinks of me. But I do know that so many girls get exploited because of this profession. I would not like to encourage such a business.
My panic attacks have always been linked with sex. When they happen, it is a mix of arousal and an overwhelming loss of logical control over myself – the extreme desire to do something, even though a meek voice of my logical mind tells me not to. I never asked for it from my girlfriend either. She wanted it after marriage, I understood. I never let my inner turmoil get to her.
So yeah – when such an attack comes, I cannot go to my girlfriend, I cannot go to a prostitute and I cannot tell my heart to let go of the feeling. The result is that I spend endless hours contacting pimps, seeing nudes on google (not even porn – I used to watch porn videos, but then I realised that the industry exploits women, and I stopped), and what not.
Every time, I have managed not to go to a prostitute only at the last moment. But who knows – come the next attack and you may well find me at a brothel! But that very moment, the last inch of respect I have for myself will vanish. I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror.
You see, I want to do philanthropy later in my life. I also do it right now, but at a very small scale.
But analyse this – the person taking people out of their misery is the one who is also exploiting them. A fucking perverted philanthropist, who likes their dick more than they love people!
A few weeks ago, I went out with a group of office friends. I realised that these attacks do not happen when I am with someone.
So yes – right now, I am dying to talk to someone. I cannot stay in my flat alone. It feels like a haunted house. I do not want to face another attack. While I am in office, everything is fine – but on weekends when there’s nothing to do and a lot of time to spare, I hate it.
I will go see my psychiatrist this week. It’s been long due I think. But what will I tell him?
What kind of disease is this?
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Featured image used for representative purposes only.