The Spins

Each time it's a little bit different, but it still feels exactly the same. I'm going to cry and be sick and live in despair for weeks on end and then... it will all go away. My doctor calls it social anxiety. I call it the spins, for two reasons: one, it's a hellish, disorienting, nauseating experience that you can't seem to escape, no matter in which direction you stagger. Two, it always, ALWAYS comes back around.

It might be a friend, a love, a coworker, or maybe one of my siblings that triggers it. An off the cuff remark I made that I'm convinced is now the seed of their growing hatred for me. A weakness I exposed that will turn my loved ones into ravenous, wild dogs ready to rip out my throat. After all my meditation, all my piles of pills, and I still only creep forward. The rotations slow down, but they never stop.

Despite the love of my family, the support of my friends, the knowledge of my strength, there's only one thing I know I can count on for the rest of my life.

The spins will always come back around.