I had to break up my night into two posts, because the feel of them and the point is completely unrelated… (Read part 1.)
So, I did have a good time at the Sia concert and, on the whole, during the whole night just spending time with Hubby. But the trip home was an entirely different story.
On the way there, our bus had to detour and drop us off at the Port Credit Go station instead of taking us all the way to Union, where we had to transfer to a train for the rest of the way. The ride back, we didn’t have to transfer but we did detour. I don’t know if it was because of the schedule interruption or just a busy Saturday night, but the bus was overcrowded. When we travel anywhere (bus, train, plane, whatever), Hubby and I usually sit together with me in the window seat. He is my buffer. He protects me from the outside world. We didn’t get to sit together on this ride. We were at the back on the line and there were only single seats left. And only aisle seats. This wouldn’t have been that big of a deal but the driver let on more people than there were seats for, so some people stood in the aisles. Lucky me, a rather large couple stood right beside me – or rather, the guy was JUST in front of me, blocking me from Hubby and the girl was right at my shoulder.
I always have my iPod when I’m in this type of setting so I can use headphones to block out the sounds around me but THEY WERE SO LOUD! I don’t think they were realistically speaking that loudly but their conversation took place right beside my left ear. That immediately set me on edge. And then the jostling of the movement of the bus had the girl bumping into me every few seconds. To the people that know me well, you will know this is a horrible thing for me to endure. I cannot stand strangers violating my personal space boundary. It was bad enough that the guy on my right was constantly pressed up against my shoulder, but this chick, repetitively touching me over and over, on my shoulder, my leg…. It was bad.
But… *sigh* It got worse. I guess, for balance, she put her hand on the back of my seat. ON MY HAIR. OMG. I want to be sick just thinking about it. My hair was up that night, in a messy, loose bun. I felt it immediately and tried to pull my head out of her way. I figured she’d realize and move out of the way but she was completely oblivious. And she kept moving and flexing her fingers.
…I want to cry right now, remembering, days after the fact.
I kept trying to move my head back into place. She didn’t move away. I was stuck in this awkward, uncomfortable position, craning my neck away from her, yet pinned to the seat with her finger IN my bun.
I can only describe what happened in my body as a mini panic attack. My heart was racing. I felt cold, yet sweaty. I wanted to scream and rage but it was hard to breathe. Through all of that though, my physical body locked down and I was unable to move. I was seconds away from losing my shit and making a scene in front of a hundred people on the bus. I’m amazed that no ‘crazy person’ sounds came out of me. I guess I huffed a few times though because she seemed to understand all at once and then FINALLY moved her hand out of my hair and a little more to the left.
The bus got less crowded after the first few stops (keep in mind this wasn’t until at least 45 minutes into the trip) and the couple left the aisle. I was relieved but still extremely edgy. I was so angry! It wasn’t just that she was touching me, although that should have been enough to put me in that state. But I was so upset at her inconsideration. How dare she do that to me?! How is someone so oblivious to their surroundings that they don’t notice if they are touching someone else?!?! Not only do I hate it when people touch me, but I hate touching other people. I avoid it. If I unintentionally brush up against someone, I jerk away and apologize. I am mindful that other people might not want me touching them either. It’s polite. It’s considerate.
I thought I would take a few minutes to calm down and everything would be okay. I concentrated on breathing normally, slowing my heart down, focusing on the relaxing music I was listening to, the fact that there was only about another half an hour or so until I was safely off the bus and back with Hubby.
Then we came to another stop and a bunch of people from the back got off. Someone walked past me and I’m pretty sure she had vomited on herself earlier in the evening. *waaaaaah* There are few things worse than the cloying scent of puke. It lingered for the rest of the trip.
The bus ride was a sensory nightmare. Hell. I was in hell.
Not my night.
I was proud of myself for not outwardly having a complete meltdown but it was a very small victory. We got home in one piece. I didn’t (couldn’t) speak in the car on the short ride from the station to our house and Hubby went to bed almost immediately so I wasn’t obligated to have a conversation. I took time for myself just calming myself and trying to relax before I went to bed. I slept all day on Sunday. Still, it took me a few days to fully recover. It’s taken this long to be able to sit down and actually write this, which I don’t entirely understand. I was emotionally overwhelmed and incapable.
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