I knew he would be there before I even opened my eyes. I wanted to drift off to sleep again to avoid him, but his presence made that impossible.  

 

"We need to talk about last night," he said as my body rose slowly from my bed while my heart rate rose faster.

 

"What is there to talk about?" I asked as I replayed last night's events in my head, dissecting every moment. I could feel my chest tightening.

 

"Remember when you were telling that story, and you fumbled for words? They probably thought you weren't genuine," he began.

 

"That's because you interrupted me," I retorted. 

 

He didn't address my reply. He continued with his inquisition as if he didn't even hear me. "Or what about that joke you made? They might have misinterpreted it."

 

"I don't think it was. They ..."

 

"Did you even say thank you when we left their house?" he interjected. 

 

His litany of questions persisted and pounded in my head, as did my pulse. We have had these conversations before. I would remain paralyzed in my bed, almost suctioned to it while he would lob question after question at me. Sometimes I would not get out of bed at all. A blanket of emotional weight draped over me because he would make me feel guilty.

 

Not this time.

 

"Did you also notice ..."

 

I interrupted him. "It's okay. I understand why you feel the need to bring up questions when I hang out with other people. I have had toxic relationships in the past, where I was treated poorly. You're just trying to protect me from the possibility of that occurring again. I appreciate you, and I will do my best to let you know if your concerns are valid from here on out. All I can tell you right now is everything is fine. There is nothing to worry about."

 

The questions ceased. 

 

My chest relaxed. 

 

My heart rate decreased. 

 

I peeled myself away from my bed, feeling lighter as I finally came to an understanding with him.

 

My anxiety.