ANXIETY, FEAR, AND FRIED RICE – CHAPTER 3
The hawker centre’s not at peak crowded conditions, but still I feel a familiar fear creep up my spine. There are far too many people, queuing up or eating at the tables. When I stand frozen at the entrance, a couple of them glance my way.
“Boy, don’t block the way!” A voice barks out from behind me, and on shaky legs, not in full control of my body, I stumble forward unwillingly into the hawker centre.
It’s even louder in here, the sounds of the stall owners taking orders, the conversations between friends, the sounds of the chopping that fill up my head. I feel my head spinning.
As if in a stupor, I walk towards one of the only two stalls I’ve gone to before. I’m too scared to look at the other ones, because I’m not sure what to order. At least with this it’s straightforward.
I’m standing in front of the stall before I realise that it’s closed. I’ve been staring at the floor this whole time, trying to not think about the people who fill up this space. The “Wong’s Chao Fan” sign is dimmed, the metal shutters drawn down.
Panic crawls up my skin, and I force myself to breathe; I exhale in quick, short breaths. I have one other option. I walk towards the other stall, less familiar with going to this one; it’s usually too crowded.
Sure enough, there’s a line of at least 8 other people in a queue snaking out from the store. I’m about to walk away to recollect my thoughts and figure out what to do when one of the stall assistants says, “Hey, you, are you queuing?”
Not sure what I’m doing, I nod and step into the queue, even as my heartbeat accelerates. I am sure that everyone can hear it, but I’m too scared to look up and meet their judgemental eyes.
“Wait ten minutes, okay?” the stall assistant says. Again not sure what I’m doing, I nod mutely. I feel a cold shiver run through my body, like I’m going to be sick.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Eventually, I reach the front of the queue.
“One chao fan, dabao.” I say.
“What size?” the stall owner asks brusquely.
“Medium,” I say. “What?” he asks.
“M-medium,” I say louder, the words tumbling out of my mouth. I stare down at the floor, noting the intricate crevices of the worn concrete.
“Five dollars,” he grunts.
I reach into my pocket to pull out my wallet.
My wallet.
Agoraphobia is a fear of being in situations where escape might be difficult or that help wouldn’t be available if things go wrong.
Someone with agoraphobia may be scared of:
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travelling on public transport
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visiting a shopping centre
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leaving home
If someone with agoraphobia finds themselves in a stressful situation, they’ll usually experience the symptoms of a panic attack, such as:
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rapid heartbeat
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rapid breathing (hyperventilating)
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feeling hot and sweaty
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feeling sick
Source: Overview – Agoraphobia – NHS
My pocket is empty. I stuff my hand in, only to be met with nothing. I reach into my other pocket, but there’s nothing either. I reach into my back pockets, but there’s only my phone. Mounting panic builds inside of me.
I can feel the irritation seeping out of the stall owner, and the annoyance of those behind me. My heartbeat quickens, and I feel a strain in my chest. It mounts to immense pressure, as if something is crushing my lungs, the dull pain permeating through my upper body.
When I look up, it suddenly feels as though the world is tilting on its axis, spinning before my eyes. Everything is blurred and disfigured, out of proportion; the only thing I can see clearly are a pair of eyes glaring at me and everyone else giggling over my misery.
(CHAPTER 4 FINALLY OUT!!)
‘Wh- What do I.. ?’