Below the Surface

2 | The Most Wonderful Time [CC 2K15]

My entry for hepburnettes' Christmas Contest 2015. Cover by soundthealarm

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 "Allie, why don't you share with us next."

"Um, okay."

For the record, I still think this whole support group thing is weird and uncomfortable. I don't like telling people about myself, and that's literally all we do. Every week, an hour of my time is wasted as I sit here and listen to other people's issues, all the while sweating as I anticipate my turn. Zach, our adviser/leader person, keeps telling me that I don't have to share if I don't want to, but I know he would just bother me ― oops, I mean support me ― until I did.

I would just stop going to the group altogether, but I know that would just backfire. After my freak out in Psychology last month, my mom won't let me stop going. She's convinced I'm spending my days curled up in a ball in the corner of my dorm room. She gets a little melodramatic sometimes. But I don't have a good enough track record to convince her I'm fine. It's just the way things go.

"Allie?" Zach asks. "You were about to share?"

I blinked for a moment, and quickly shook my head to rid of my thoughts. "Yeah, sorry. Just zoned out," I said. I do that sometimes, the zoning out. My old therapist (for when things were bad) said it was kind of a coping mechanism, my way of not having to deal with all my deep thoughts, I guess. But I think it's just because I get bored easily. Hey, maybe I have ADHD along with anxiety.

"Okay, anyway, my name is Allie. I have GAD, General Anxiety Disorder." This received nods around the circle. I guess with this crowd, I didn't really need to explain the acronym. We all have our own acronyms to deal with.

"And how have you been, Allie?" Zack said. Zack is one of those people who goes out of his way to be approachable and kind, but instead he just seems like a creeper. I'm not really sure what qualifies him to be here.

"I've been okay. I'm just ready to go home for the holidays and all."

"Are you excited to see your family?"

"Yeah. It's going to be a tough couple of days, but I'm excited to just be home and settled in," I said.

"Why will it be a tough couple of days?" He is also physically incapable of letting sleeping dogs lie. Everything we mention has to be dissected even if it's just someone saying it was lame that the dining hall was out of tater tots.

"Well, the holidays are stressful, so even with my medication I still have some trouble. And my relatives are always saying stupid stuff, which sets my dad off. He, uh, has Bipolar Disorder so when we're around each other in stressful situations, it can get ugly."

"I'm sorry to hear that. What techniques will you use to cope?"

"Techniques?"

"Coping mechanisms, like the stuff we learned in these meetings," Zack said. I'm pretty sure there are no techniques and this is a trick question. He's probably just trying to get me to admit that I never pay attention in these things.

"Um, not really. I'm just going to try to get through it. Keep calm and carry on and stuff..." My palms were sweating and I really didn't want to wipe them on my jeans; they were new. Why did I have to ruin everything right after I got it?

"I see," Zack said, pausing to look at his watch. "Well everyone, it seems that we are out of time. I'll see you all at our next session." Everyone let out a collective breath of relief. No one seemed to enjoy Zack's undying scrutiny in the name of "helping." Even to us, a group of diagnosed neurotic people, he seemed like he was trying a little too hard.