For instance, yesterday I got home from the supermarket and discovered
that I had got the wrong bread. Naturally, it only took about one
billionth of a second to envision how the blushing/sweating would
start at the customer service counter. If I were trapped there, like
with a long line of other customers, then I'd eventually get soaked
enough so that anybody would instantly notice.

The other option would be to forget about the bread, but then I'd feel
like such a chicken that I would loathe myself. That was not a real
option. I've always pushed myself into things.

So, I knew of many psychological and practical tricks to use on
myself, but this time would be different. I had the shiny new
propanolol handy. But I didn't want to wait an hour or two for peak
plasma concentration to be achieved. So I *chewed* the bad-tasting
tablet, 40 mg, to hopefully get it into my system faster. I also had a
little bit of food right after, since that might result in less
destruction of the propanolol on first-pass through the liver.

As soon as I swallowed the propanolol, I felt better - like being
armored. Anticipatory armoring, rather than anticipatory anxiety,
since I had used a beta blocker before and knew its effects. I next
waited for the drug to actually get in. I tested myself by simply
imagining being at the counter. When I no longer felt any flush when
imagining, I knew I was ready.

Walking into the store I felt confident and bold. Then, at the counter
itself, when speaking I had a tiny bit of heat across my hairline
(above the forehead) and on the ears. That development gave me a
little pause. Normally that would trigger the cascade, the cursed
vicious cycle of being nervous and embarrased about being nervous and
embarrased . But with the drug the symptoms didn't get any worse. They
just stalled there. It was like what I'd imagine a normal, shy person
would experience. I smiled then because knew I would win this one.

The girl behind the counter smiled back and said, "sure, go get the
other one that you want and bring it back here". I did that
immediately, feeling almost instantly ebullient because I always feel
better when I can move and besides I had just experienced the seed of
triumphing over the anxiety attack.

By the time that I was heading back to the counter, I actually
**wanted** to spend more time there. I wanted to live it up in that
mini-spotlight. I wanted to enjoy the interacting with strangers
rather than being consumed about thoughts of my anxiety reactions. And
so I did, even if it only lasted a minute. The transaction went too
quickly. I walked out with a bit of a swagger in my step, though,
looking at most of the girls behind the cash resisters as I went.

As I say, I just need the drug to remove the outward symptoms. I'll do
the rest. Life has been a living hell, but along with the mental work
I've done I also need the drug, and now the end seems in sight. A
beta-blocker doesn't relax you, or change your mood directly. But it
frees me up (so far, knock on wood) to be who I have refashioned
myself to be over these many years.