No one expected anything from me on that day. Everyone expected the repeated panic attacks in my bathroom or in the car or at the service. It was normal on that day. They expected the words out of my mouth to be fake and abrupt. They expected me to not eat anything. No one wondered how I was doing because the answer was evident in my eyes. And in my shoes. And my words. And in what we had just endured. It felt okay to be sad but also to laugh and enjoy the day because it was Saturday and the weather was nice and all my friends and family were together. I wasn't tired because I associated sleeping with being scared and alone which I was avoiding. People kept offering me medicine but I refused because it felt so normal to feel this way. Normal to cry and then laugh and then lose concentration midsentence and to get short of breath while sitting still.
And, today, that behavior is not acceptable.