Hard calls

It is a fact of my life that I operate out of a body and mind that are at times very fragile, and at times very strong. I have agoraphobia and Crohn's disease, and the two often ping off each other, until my world shrinks down small and the lights go off and everything is scary, and hard, and painful. Agoraphobia, for me, is an icy panic that creeps up and hijacks me, drives me to flee to 'safe' spaces, out of sight with a bathroom, and then tethers me there with fear. It used to be a one and done panic attack, that I could move on from afterwards like a band-aid ripped off. In the past year or so it has changed. It tortures me for hours and hours and hours. It is worse when I am run down, and think the sickness early in the trip opened the door wide.

I have been paralysed with fear for about four days. That's a really long time to feel like you're about to die. Looking at this ugly ass rock in the bathroom today, with the weight of nearly five weeks more of this tiny hell hanging over me, I cried and I called it. I'm going home. I feel raw and awful and silly and relieved and I mourn the trip that could have been but wasn't, because my brain is a bit broken. I am so sorry for Branna, and I hope she salvages a good trip and is safe as houses.

I'm going home, and I know that the rest of this nervous break awaits me there, and I might have a long path to recovery - the last big stumble took me a month to leave the house. But I have people that love me and I can try new medication and I won't be trying to do it from a bunk bed with a language barrier.

Stay tuned for Branna's adventures. That's it for mine.

- Lexie xRead more