It's been awhile. Since my last post, I began and completed volunteer training at a local women and children's shelter. It was a fulfilling and awesome experience. I didn't learn too much, but that's because I already knew so much about this. It was still a thorough instruction, and I loved hearing from some survivors.
On the very last day of training - the very last hour, even - I had a panic attack. Of course there had to be some group activities. I was doing really well. I kept pep-talking myself to not only stay awake (I'd gotten NO sleep because I was afraid of missing this 8am to 4pm training), but to keep calm.
It didn't work.
I not only had to hold hands with people, they started wrenching and jerking me around for some stupid activity. I'm still not sure what the point was, but I'd like to have known beforehand what in the world was going on. I asked so many times, but no one would answer. No one listened to me the whole time.
In an earlier activity, there were two circles on the ground, with only a small space between them. We were all stuffed into one circle. Ugh. Some people were designated to be stiffs and not move at all. The objective was to get all of us, including the stiffs, to the other circle without anyone stepping outside the circles and the small space between.
Well, as everyone begins to bum-rush it, I watched to make sure no one was about to step outside the circle. You know, the main objective. The only fixed constant in the operation. Sure enough, I noticed a stiff being pushed out of her circle. She couldn't move or speak, so I had to speak for her. I started saying: "Guys, stop pushing Kelly!" "She's gonna fall out!" "We're gonna have to start over if you knock her out of the circle!" "GUYS!"
I may as well have been a stiff myself, because I was thoroughly ignored. I watched as she was pushed out of the circle, and we had to start over. It was extremely frustrating. Were they not listening because I was a girl? I'm sure I was loud enough. I was very clear about the impending doom.
Anyway, my point is that, even though I was loud enough and clear enough, they wouldn't listen. So, as I was getting jerked around, as anxious and uncomfortable as I already was, I kept asking in every possible way "What is going on?" - only to be ignored. Finally, I'd had enough and let go.
I know I shouldn't have felt as ashamed, embarrassed, or like a failure as I did, but I did. I found a seat in the sidelines quickly enough, but I wouldn't stay long. I instantly began beating up on myself as I sat there. Why me? I'm the only one with a problem here! Why couldn't I just hold on a little longer? I'm so tired... just chill. Then I heard the lady in charge saying to my group "Oh, you guys are missing someone." A girl from the group paused the shoving match to reply "She's just over there." as she gestured to me.
I know the lady in charge totally didn't care. I know no one else cared, but I did. The failure was too much. I was disappointed in myself and I could feel the tears welling up. I went to the bathroom, still trying to calm myself, but the anxiety was critical at this point. There was no going back. The inevitable urge to get the Hell out of dodge overcame me, and I quickly and quietly left the bathroom and went to gather my things before I left.
The shelter director must have seen or known, because she caught me as I was leaving. By this time, tears were streaming down my face. I was so embarrassed, so frustrated, and so pissed off at myself for not even completing something I really wanted. I really, really wanted this.
"What's wrong, Vanessa?' The director said. "What happened?"
I don't even know if she could understand my blubbering at that point. I managed to convey that I was anxious, that I had to leave, and that I was so so so sorry.
"It's okay. It's okay. I'll let you out. " There is a gate at the front of the shelter. A good idea, I think.
"Will I still be able to volunteer?" I asked, so desperate to salvage some dignity.
"Of course. We'll keep in touch, okay?"
I hung my head in shame, bawling, as I hurried out the front gate. A bright orange $30 ticket for expired registration was waiting for me with open arms.
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To my surprise, the shelter director did get back to me in early April. Unfortunately, I had to decline. I was a little scared still, but I mostly couldn't because I had very visible cuts all over my left arm. I didn't want to bring my negativity to the survivors, especially the kids.
She kept the offer open. She cheered me right up by saying I'd make a great volunteer because of my honesty and passion, and I so appreciated it. It was hard to do. I cried. I'm crying now, because I am still frustrated and sad, but sometimes you have to help yourself first.
Maybe if I'd tried to focus more on myself in November, this wouldn't have happened.
So help yourself first. You can't help anyone if you're a hot mess.
