This past month has been so busy. We had a going away party for Chuck that I put together. I guess calling it a party would be stretching it. It was more like a lunch "thing." Whatever you call it I was busy for the majority of the week getting decorations for the conference room and baking his cake. I went for double chocolate since it's his favorite and got EAT, his favorite restaurant, to deliver. Only Amita, Damien, Mike, and I stayed the entire time, Mr. Reynolds stopped by for about ten minutes and then quietly slipped out. Chuck was so shocked to walk into the room and see us. I had him thinking I needed his help carrying something down to my car. He thanked me a million times and hugged me so tightly I thought I'd break. It was a bittersweet moment but I'm glad I got to spend it with him. He left for Kentucky the day after and unfortunately I haven't heard from him since.
Things on the work front have been busy as well. I've completed two small accounts for local stores, a boutique and a bakery. The owner of the bakery was so grateful she offered me a voucher for a free cake decorating class that's good until next March. I'm excited to try it, baking has always been really therapeutic for me.
Speaking of therapy I've been taking a deeper look at myself. It's crazy really, the way my mind works. I'm not happy but I'm not sad either. I just... exist. I can't look back at the last twenty-two years of my life and say I've really lived. I can't pick out a happy memory but the sad ones, the ones that made me wail and sob and clutch my chest like I was dying, those I remember. The moments that break your heart are always the easiest to recall.
In retrospect my childhood was relatively normal, nothing incredibly traumatic happened. But at the same time I grew up too fast. I was always too adult for my age. I became a master at worrying before I could even ride a bike. At the one period in my life where I should've been completely carefree I was bogged down and I've been that way ever since.
Anxiety is my disease. It infected me years ago and no matter what I do I can't completely get rid of it. Nothing caused it, I was born with fear in my gut and it's been there every day since, hiding away in the background waiting to flare up when I least expect it.
As I grew up I recognized my fear went away when my family was near. It groomed me to be family oriented and more grounded anytime they're around. However I had to learn the hard way how to cope since having them as a security blanket was near impossible when I started school. I found myself staying in the car longer when my mom would drop me off or getting longer hugs from her before I got out of the car, trying to soak up as much comfort from her as I could.
I needed that protection and warmth I got from their love and as I got older I did almost anything to get even a semblance of that feeling. In the process of trying to find relief I lost myself in whoever I was with. I threw myself into relationship after relationship, most of the time just chucking shá»t at the walls to see if it stuck. It never did.
I allowed them to control my reactions and consequently my life. Every little thing they did got over analyzed and mulled over until I felt ready to combust. I fell into an intense pit of depression, anxiety, and self-loathing.
I hated myself for not loving myself. I hated myself for feeling like no one loved me. I hated myself because whoever I loved never stayed and when they did they never meant it.
I got used and played so much I felt like an instrument. One lone rusted flute still trying to float out notes long after the concert ended and the curtain closed.
No matter how well I treated people I called lover or friend I always got left behind. No one wanted to stick around and it made me dislike myself more. I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me? What did I do to make people I love hate me so much?
I was lied to, lied on, tricked and trapped. I got cursed out and yelled at. I was disrespected and people took my kindness for weakness. But in reality I guess I was weak. Weak for letting people use me up until I had absolutely nothing left.
By the time I graduated high school I felt as if I had lived one hundred lives and was utterly alone. I didn't go off to college because what would be the use. I wouldn't knowingly put myself in a position to go through high school all over again. It makes no difference how mature the people there should be. One look at their Twitter will show you how stuck in grade ten they are. So I stayed home, a place where if I was laughed at I could laugh too.
I thought I was doing myself a favor.Thought I was making a change of my own free will. But really I was scared and made the decision out of fear. I ended up staying and hating myself more because the problem was never with the people around me it was me.
I ate excessively and gained twenty pounds my first semester. I blamed it on late night snacking to get through studying but that was a lie. Depression and loneliness are devilish things and I've always ate my feelings. My depression kept me from wanting to do anything and my anxiety about what people would think of me kept me from wanting to go anywhere so I ate more and gained more weight.
Eventually I ended up sitting at two hundred and twenty-five pounds with acne covered skin and boobs so huge they felt like two bags of flour strapped to my chest that sweat like a faucet. I felt ugly and gross.
I cared yet I was emotionally ruined. Broken and sad, I felt abandoned. It felt like no one cared. I didn't realize how much it would hurt to see people who acted like they gave a damn living their lives like I never existed. No texts, no calls, nothing, it was as if to them I had died and sometimes I wished I would've. I hated myself, and the cycle continued.
Until one day I decided to make a change.
I was sitting in my bed watching YouTube videos of girls vlogging their college experiences. They looked like they were having so much fun and just living life. I wanted that. It was the first time in my life I ever felt envy but instead of being a hater I let it motivate me to better myself.
I started writing. Blogging initially to get every negative feeling I had out. Once I let them go I locked it all away and threw away the key. Numb became the feeling I was most acquainted with and I was okay with that. In my opinion it's better to feel nothing than to feel too much. I turned my experiences into stories and started my Spoodle account. The more personal the story the more people read and commented things that helped me cope. It was cathartic and exciting and it still is.
With my emotions under control I began tackling the other points of frustration in my life. I got therapy to further help my anxiety and started eating better, taking on the pescetarian lifestyle. I got LASIK so I could be more active without fear of breaking my glasses, a breast reduction so I could work out efficiently, and I worked my way up to loving my life. It was a daily process and some days I wanted to be lazy and not get out of bed but I let those vloggers push me. I let them inspire me to get my aá¹£s up and get it moving.
Eventually my skin began to clear and the pounds started melting off. I could look at myself in the mirror again. I wasn't ashamed of my body or my scars, they showed me where I came from and where I'll never allow myself to go again.
It wasn't about the weight, it was the mindset. I could've lived a perfectly happy life at the weight I was at but I wasn't. It didn't work for me no matter how hard I tried.
I've always been the type of person who has to work for things in order to enjoy them. Anything given to me on a platter I don't appreciate. Working for the body and the life I wanted made me cherish it.
I'm thankful every morning I wake up and I treat myself, physically and emotionally, as if I'm thankful. I don't follow a pescetarian diet to the letter anymore but I still choose healthier options over others. And in the times when I do eat junk I make sure to be more active. I came to realize I actually enjoy maintaining my body. Having a set goal to work at each day gives me the perfect amount of power and stability over my circumstances that I need to function.
Knowing I was the one who took control and changed my life empowers me. I didn't have to depend on a man to make me feel good about myself I did it all on my own. Sometimes my self-confidence wavers but that's only natural. For the most part I try to remain positive about my self-image and I'm proud of the progress I've made.
My computer makes a binging noise that brings my attention back to work. I've been working on the numbers for my current project for Coca-Cola. Emails have been flying in left and right with new information, it's getting a bit out of control. When Mr. Reynolds or Berkley, as he insists I call him, asked me to work on the account with him personally I jumped at the chance. Granted he probably only asked so he could try and get in my pants but if I don't let him in no harm no foul as far as I'm concerned. This is the biggest account that I've worked on so far and I'm super nervous about it which brought on my previous thoughts.
Unable to hold back, my teeth sink into the flesh on the inside of my mouth. Wreaking havoc on the spot behind my lower lip until it's raw I move to the inside of my cheek until I'm calm.
Instantly I berate myself. I've been so good about avoiding my nervous ticks as I like to call them. Lip and nail skin biting, breath holding, and my personal favorite, note the sarcasm, jabbing my thumb nail into the pad of my index finger. I'm not sure when I started doing them but they progressively got worse along with my anxiety. The amount of pressure I'm under determines the degree I go to but normally any or even a combination of them can get my focus back at a near instant.
Self-Injury Disorder is the diagnosis my old therapist Dr. Greg gave my naughty little habits. To help change my reaction to anxiety and stress he taught me deep breathing and meditative exercises to substitute for them. Under everyday circumstances my brain has the time to remind me of them. My old tricks though, they're instinctual. In times of high stress they're my body's natural go to. I don't always have the time or patience to breathe deeply and calm each part of my body one by one. Sometimes, like now, I need instant results. Desperate times and all that.
"Bailey," Berkley implores loudly scaring the hell out of me making my teeth instantly release. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."
A sneaky little smile slides across his face like he doesn't mean his apology. Though in the past month I've come to realize that's just the way he smiles, like he has a head full of secrets.
"You always look like you're up to something when you do that," I giggle turning to face him.
His smile spreads, "When I do what?"
"Smile. You look like you have some kind of nefarious scheme brewing," I reply, crossing my legs.
He watches my leg as it moves. He watches everything I do, I've noticed. Giving me his typical up and down look he returns his eyes back to mine, an approving shine in them.
I assume he likes my outfit or at least the way I look in it. I must admit I'm a fan of it as well. Camel colored peep toe pumps match the leather of my bag. They both give an interesting distinction to my navy blue jumpsuit and bright yellow blazer. I top the look off with gold stud earrings, necklace, ring and watch. Going for no makeup and wearing my hair down today were easy choices since I woke up late.
"Is there an actual point to you bursting into my office Berkley or did you just want to scare the hell out of me?" I implore sarcastically, crossing my arms over my chest.
He narrows his eyes playfully, "I own the business and the building so technically this is my office."
"Potato tomato what's your point?" I smirk, sitting back in my chair.
He lets out a defeated laugh and changes the subject, "Did you understand everything in the emails about Coke? I could help you out if you didn't. I like to be very hands on with new employees. You know, to make sure you're getting a good feel for the company. We're going to be working on this together anyway."
I don't bother holding in my laugh at his indiscreet ploy. "My feel for the company has been going just fine but thanks for asking, and yes I think I understand. I'll probably stay late and work on the forms though so they'll be ready for Monday."
He looks surprised. "It's a Friday night. You can't tell me you don't have any plans."
I snicker, shaking my head, "Okay then, I won't tell you. Now out, I need to get back to work."
He smiles again standing up to leave. "You're probably right. I hear your boss can be a bit of a hard ass."
He's so lame, it makes me laugh. "No not really he likes to think that though, over compensating and all of that."
His mouth drops open good-naturedly. Pointing his finger at me he warns, "You'll pay for that Ms. Duncan,"
I roll my eyes in annoyance. "It's Bailey! This isn't Fifty Shades of Grey!" I exclaim as he slams the door shut behind him.
I can hear him laughing outside of my door.
~*~
"You're sure you can't come out with us?" Amita asks for the third time.
"Seriously Bailey it's Friday night those damn papers will be there when you get back on Monday like a normal human being," Damien pleads from his spot beside Amita in my office doorway.
I shake my head and smile at the two people who are quickly becoming closest to me. "You're right they'll be here on Monday and so will Berkley. He's expecting me to have these numbers down so he won't go into the meeting with Coke looking like an unprepared idiot. Next time though yall I swear. I'll even pay!"
Damien perks up then pointing at me, "I'm holding you to that."
I give him my best smile and walk them out. The office is eerily silent, my own reflection frightening me in the glass. A shiver of fear runs through me on my way back to my office. It doesn't take me long to end up elbows deep in research.
~*~
It feels like they just left a second ago. I didn't realize I've been working for way longer than I intended. White numbers glare at me from the clock on my desk alerting me that it's almost ten - my stomach confirms the time with a loud painful growl. After typing up the last of the data I save the file and then shut down my computer. If I hurry I can grab something to eat and be in bed writing before eleven.
Mike, the night shift security guard tips his hat to me as I leave like he always does. A skinny Barney Fife looking man, I don't think I've ever heard him speak. I just took Chuck's word for it that he can.
Before I can reach my car I hear Berkley calling from behind me. Turning around to face him I catch his smooth walk. Everywhere he goes he seems to glide, it's actually kind of beautiful to watch.
"What a coincidence we're leaving at the same time," he says crossing his suit covered arms.
"Not if you were watching the cameras to see when I left so you could use that awkward line. Stalker," I joke, smiling wide.
He blushes so bright even in the dimness of the parking lot I can tell. "It's not stalking per say, I wanted to walk you safely to your car."
I laugh shaking my head. "You've got an answer for everything don't you?" I ask walking towards my car with him in tow.
"I guess I kind of have to," he shrugs then smiles once he sees my car. "This is yours?"
My heart speeds with anticipated embarrassment. "Sure is," I unlock the doors with feigned confidence. I'm proud of paying for my ride all on my own but when speaking to someone who drives what Berkley drives I can't help but feel a little inadequate.
Grabbing the door handle he opens it for me, "I've been wondering who it belongs to. I should've known it was yours. It fits your personality."
I stand from sitting my purse in the passenger seat. "Does it now? What personality would that be?"
He shoves his hands into his pants pockets before answering, "Spunky, different, beautiful -"
I stop him, holding my hand up, "Beautiful isn't necessarily a personality trait but thanks I guess. You got all of that from a car?"
"Everyone's car says something about them," he shrugs his broad shoulders again.
I nod, "I can see that. Like yours says "I like to be seen please feed my ego and stare at me and my gorgeous car.""
He snickers and gestures his agreement, "Pretty much. It's like we've known each other for years."
Rolling my eyes I grin at his sarcasm. "As thought-provoking as this conversation has been I have to go."
His eyebrow rises, "I thought you didn't have any plans."
I shrug my shoulders, "I found some. See you Monday Berkley."
He nods once and turns to leave but spins back around to me. "You know...I'm still hungry."
Okay? I narrow my eyes in confusion. "Well...you're on your way home, be sure to eat something when you get there."
It takes a few seconds of an expectant look from him before I realize what he meant. My cheeks heat in humiliation.
He chuckles at the recognition on my face, "Have a nice night Ms. Duncan." Pushing his hands back into his pockets he turns to walk away.
I drop down into my seat and just before I close the door it dawns on me what he said. Rolling down my window I yell out, "It's Bailey!"
He doesn't say anything back. Instead he waves his hand in the air dismissively before disappearing into his car and speeding out of the parking lot.
~*~
The longer I live in LA the more I hate the traffic. To get from one space to another in everyday life already takes a lifetime but it's even worse on a Friday or Saturday night. It's like every person in town wanted to have dinner or go to the club. I'm all for people having a good time but I'd greatly appreciate them getting the hell out of my way to do it.
The only restaurant in town that's even remotely empty is a place called Hospitality. I'm not sure what kind of food they have but the growls my stomach is emitting are getting more and more angry as I drive so something is better than nothing.
It's a supremely dark night so I'm thankful for the run down parking lot's lamps even if they are a little dim. The beat up pavement seems to crumble even further beneath my feet as I try to avoid the many dips and cracks in the ground. The last thing I need is to get my heel stuck or broken because they've decided to repave their parking lot in spots rather than as a whole creating this uneven terrain.
The exterior of the building looks a lot like a mobile home with off white metal siding and a tin roof. There's a wooden zigzag ramp made of dark, water warped, wood that I have to climb before getting to the door. A red and blue neon open sign is the only pop of color against the plain colors of the building.
Inside, it's small and as dim as the parking lot. The walls match the off white metal of the exterior and different black and white photos line the walls. I can hardly see the menu and a part of me wonders if it's this dark all over how in the hell the cooks can see what they're doing.
Just as I spot the catfish and shrimp special on the colorful chalk written menu board, out of the corner of my eye I see a familiar face. Sitting in a knee length white dress and black Louboutin heels with her legs crossed is Whitney Banning. This isn't a place I would expect to see her. She seems to be a fancy valet parking restaurant kind of woman.
I start trying to decide on if I want to speak or not. The last time we saw each other which happened to be the first time we met, she was a bit of a bá»tch to me. Damien and Amita might've told me not to take it personally but how can I not? I'm not sure if I want to deal with her right now, especially since I'm hungry. I'm not myself when I'm hungry I have a lot more attitude and a lot weaker filter.
Before I can make a move towards the door for a smooth exit we lock eyes, her blue to my brown. Neither of us makes a move both confused as to what to say or if we should say anything at all. I don't lose her gaze until I hear the cashier calling for me.
"Sweetie, you ready to order?" she asks. She's a heavy set woman with greying black hair and kind brown eyes that match the shade of her skin
I snap my attention to her with a smile. "Yes ma'am. Could I get the catfish and shrimp combo, fried, with mashed potatoes and french fries."
Her smile is as thoughtful as her eyes. Placing her hands on her hips she jokes, "Two potatoes, you tryna' add some junk to your trunk huh?"
"Always ma'am," I giggle taking my drink cup and receipt.
"I heard that baby," she agrees, her southern accent making me feel warm and homey inside. "You're order will be ready in a few gone and try some of that sweet tea over there it's our specialty."
I nod and walk directly over to the tea, glad they have some. I've been craving it all day. Just as I finish popping the top onto my cup I feel body heat close to me. Turning to my right I'm shocked to see Whitney's face. I definitely thought she'd get her food and dip out.
More than likely she's here trying to save face that she's in such a "country" "ghetto" place. I know I'm stereotyping her but I'll chastise myself for it later, I'm only working with the vibes that she gave me.
"Hi, Bailey right? It's Whitney Banning from work do you remember me?" she asks holding her hand out for me to shake.
Does she think I'm that much of a spazz? I literally just met her last month. I want to roll my eyes but I decide against it and play along taking her hand and shaking it, "Right Whitney. What a surprise. Do you come here often?"
Her face flushes slightly but she recovers quickly, "Once in a while when I need some good hometown cooking. The entire staff is from Georgia as well."
I take in the information about her that she slipped in discreetly. I'm surprised to learn she's a southern girl like me. "You're kidding, you're from Georgia? I don't detect a hint of an accent."
She smiles proudly, "I take that as a compliment. The second I graduated high school I went to college in New York and never looked back. I think I've been back home maybe twice in the past decade."
My eyes bulge involuntarily but I reign in my reaction quickly. I don't want to seem like I'm judging.
Before I can respond the cashier calls numbers twenty-two and twenty-four.
We both look down at our tickets and simultaneously say, "That's me." Our eyes catch and we laugh as we walk together to the register.
"I'll be paying for hers as well," Whitney states pulling out her credit card from her pale pink Yves Saint Laurent wallet.
"No, no way, I can pay for my own food," I protest shaking my head.
She hurries and hands her card to the cashier who swipes it without a second glance. "Call it my apology for being so curt when we met. It's a mask I put on to get through the work day and it gets sort of hard to turn it off. I know I have a bit of a reputation for it."
I laugh at that, thinking back to Amita and Damien's comments. "Well apology accepted, as long as the food is good," I joke walking towards a table. "Would you like to eat together?" I figure it's the least I can do. She's being nice and she paid.
"Sure," she replies with a smirk taking a seat, "So where are you from? Tell me about yourself."
I give her my whole beat; youngest of four kids, born and raised in Texas, small town country girl, big time city dreams.
"I can relate to that," she assures me before taking another sip of her margarita, "my town was even smaller than yours. Every breath I took there felt like it was suffocating me."
I listen as I let another piece of the delicious catfish permeate my taste buds. The food is divine and the conversation isn't half bad. She's not as terrible as she seems at work for sure. I can even relate and understand why she is the way she is. To her, working hard and keeping focused keeps her from ever ending up back in that spec of a town she came from.
A little conversation later, I ask for a to-go box from the waitress and pack my food up. I cringe at the mess I made. Little crumbs and pieces of the batter from my fish litter the table and bring back memories of my mother griping at my untidy eating habits. Ever since I was a kid I could never eat anything and not make a mess whether I'm dropping something on myself or the surface I'm eating on.
"This was fun," Whitney declares walking out of the diner by my side, "We should do it again sometime."
I nod my head and unlock my car with the remote, "I'm down for that. I really enjoyed myself thanks again for paying. I'll catch the tab next time."
I realize I've been saying that a lot lately and it dawns on me that I'm actually making friends.
She nods and waves to me before dropping into her car, some type of Lexus. It's pearl white with shiny chrome rims, a prim and proper car that fits her persona. I guess Berkley was right.
I hear her honk her horn twice as she passes behind me to leave the parking lot and I honk back before pulling out of my spot. As fun and unexpected as tonight was I'm ready to get home. I'm exhausted and still need to update my story on Spoodle. Thinking on it I point my car in the direction of my house and decide it's about time Bianca, my main character, gets some friends as well.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
What's up my good people!!!!
I hope yall enjoyed the chapter! It was a little heavy but I want yall to know the things that weigh on Bailey's mind every day even if they aren't all she can think about if that makes sense.
#HAILEY is coming in chapter nine I PROMISE so just hold out through 1 more chapter! I'm just as excited as you guys to get to the Harry bits (no pun intended) lol
As for new follower S/O's...
This time we have: @PorshaaLove, and @waived!!!!
Thanks so much for following and I hope I don't disappoint!
Until Next Time,
WBN