Good to get out of your comfort zone

Dropping my mother off at Mac Square train station, I walked the length of the shopping centre three times in search of some really delicious looking muffins. With muffins in hand and a coffee to wake me from my state of bland awakeness, I could face a day of cleaning out my old room.

I open every door and window, turn on all the fans and open all the blinds in preparation for today's scorcher at Louise's. I begin by editing together the remains of Brendan's 21st video, after having my iPod speaker station explode on me.

From then on, I tore apart the fabrics of my old room. Papers, pens, pictures and pirates... all going into 13 new Woolies bags or the bin. I attacked my closet and drawers. I found a bunch of stuff other peeps would love and at one point actually find time to deliver some items. Which was fun. But the room if far from packed away.

Now, so far the day has been swell. Not amazing, but I was happy. I felt safe. And no one was jumping out of bushes giving me the heebie-jeebies. This all changed tonight when I drove into the city to meet up with a guy I met online for coffee.

To start with, he had me on edge when calling me this afternoon to request I park in his street as "we'll end up at mine anyway". This was clearly not the original plan.

When I get to the city, late thanks to a gridlocked M5, he's with 2 other mates at a pub of some sort. Which is okay-ish, but threw me a little. So they smoke and carry on until 2 more people turn up, and then 2 more people turn up and then two people ring other people complaining they weren't there and suddenly theres a whole gang of people I don't know.

Then the guy doesn't really talk to me. Which was kinda the point of meeting up I thought. Also, there was no coffee.

Then I start to get anxious as we move on. Before I knew it we were in some kind of nightclub with obscenely loud music and dark confined spaces. I can't hear anyone speak and am now getting anxious to the point of not being able to pretend i'm not.

Then, I was trapped. It was panic beyond actually feeling panicked. By the time we left the nightclub and walked for 30 minutes to a high rise club with a "restaurant" on the roof I was loosing my shit on the inside and could do nothing about it.

Of course other people ordered the "table" (a bench with a small ottoman next to it) a whole lot of food. Which all had meat. But I really didn't mind. I felt so out of control, I didn't want to eat or drink or breath. I was scared. And then I started feeling anxious about being so irrationally frightened. Which multiplied everything by 2.

Eventually, I freak out one of the girls by not taking a glass of water she's forcing into my hand. The guy I was meeting originally makes some bullshit excuse that he has to leave and takes me with him.

We're out on the street and I'm cold and hungry, but with no intentions of eating. He offers to take me to this great cafe he knows to have a sit down and calm down. And I can't pin point when he changed his mind but we end up walking all the way back to Newtown to my car.

And the walk had done me well, but I'm still really anxious about the whole night.

In trying to drive home, I am so worked up I need to stop. So I call Justin, who is thankfully home to visit for a breather. And here's the killer. He asked if this stuff happens all the time.

And it does.

Fruit of the Moment: In a coconut