I hated doing grocery shopping. For multiple reasons. I hated being out in public in a general sense. I hated people. I hated being away from my children and away from my husband. At the same time, these outings to the store were the only times I ever got to myself. I didn't have my children fighting around me. I didn't have my baby crying, wanting to be held. I didn't have my husband asking me to do multiple tasks for him. It was only me. So, while I hated it, it was also a small sliver of freedom. It was almost sad that I found an amount of comfort in the chaos at home. It was my cocoon.

I pushed the cart down the aisle. I had my list on my phone to go off of. I was doing shopping for a whole week. I hadn't placed a single thing in the cart as of yet, and I was so ready to already be back home. Too many people everywhere. Too many eyes. I felt like people stared for too long when they looked at me. I was feeling exposed.

The fresh scent of baked goods flooded my nose as I came to the bakery section of the store. I only needed to pick up a loaf of bread, but I really wanted to fill the entire empty cart with cookies, pies, cakes, muffins, brownies, donuts, anything, and everything baked. I had such a sweet tooth. It wouldn't hurt if I just picked up some cookies. The kids would love them, too.

"Mommy?" I heard my son behind me, "You know there are two of you?" I turned around to see no one. No surprise. But it was what he said that troubled me, not the fact that he wasn't there. Two of me? What did that mean? I started to feel more eyes on me from people all around. My anxiety was beginning to flare up. What a convenient location to keep an eye on me from afar. Any one of these people could have been stalking me. Thank God my children were safe at home.

I tried to play my therapist's words back about everything being a coincidence. No one was actually following me. But how could she possibly know that? Sure, the odds may have been slim, but they weren't zero. All the sets of eyes on me. Either my stalker was here, or a friend of theirs was here to keep an eye on me. That much, I knew. I could feel it.

I pushed my cart away from the bakery in a rush to get to the bathroom. For no other reason than to simply get away. I had to get out of the clearing. I held my breath as I power walked in the direction of the bathroom. Like I was underwater and rushing to break the surface for a gulp of air at last. My lungs were on fire by the time I made it through the door.

I took my deep breath and let out a long sigh of relief. Finally. No eyes. The bathroom was empty. I could be alone. Just to breathe and think. I went to the sink and splashed some cold water onto my face to try to cool my cheeks. I noticed my cheeks were slightly red in the mirror. But that wasn't all I noticed. I stared hard at my image. My own face. Something was wrong. I couldn't recognize my own reflection. My face, like all the others, had shifted. I touched my cheeks and kneaded my skin about as if to mold it back into its original appearance. But it was no use. I couldn't fix it. I couldn't even say directly what had changed. Was I an imposter now?

"Two of me?" I whispered in a slight panic. I washed my face again. Then again, slightly more aggressively. But whatever had changed, had withstood. I felt like me. I was me. I just looked wrong. Everything was going to be okay. Given time, I should shift back. I just needed to be patient. This was okay. Everything was okay.

I left the bathroom and found my cart still waiting for me. I just needed to focus on my shopping. Although, that didn't stop the eyes from everyone who passed me. Still scanning me all over in passing. Panic chewed at my lungs, causing me to breathe in a rapid manner. Could they see it? Is that why they were staring? They could see my face was shifted? They could somehow see I was different.

I couldn't decide what to be more afraid of. My stalker or myself. I wanted to avoid being stared at, but I needed to fix myself. I was still me. I refused to change into... I don't know. Something or someone else? I needed my husband. I needed him to see me. I needed him to tell me that I hadn't changed. The thought was consuming me. So much to the point I couldn't stand the thought of being here anymore.

I left my cart right there in an aisle and fought tears that burned my eyes the whole way to my car. My keys shook in my trembling hands when I pressed the button to unlock the doors. I climbed into my seat. The second I saw myself in the rear view mirror, I lost control of my tears. They streaked my face, my hands still shaking. What was happening to me? I didn't want to drive while I was feeling so hysterical. Being away from all the eyes was a huge weight off my chest. But I still felt the tight pressure around my heart for this shift in my appearance. It would be okay. All I needed was my husband.

"You seriously didn't get anything?" He was far more concerned about my lack of grocery shopping. Understandable. That meant I either had to go back or he had to. We didn't have dinner for the night. And he wasn't likely to make the trek himself.

"You didn't see it." I tried to defend myself. "You-"

"I never see it, Kim!" He snapped at me, "I never see what you see! No one does! Because it's not real! You know it's not real!" He threw his hands up in his frustration, "I swear, you pull this crap just to be lazy! If you expect me to go to the store, guess again! Go back and do our shopping! Quit with this nonsense already!"

The tears filled my vision again, threatening to break over the rim of my eyes. My throat felt like it held a knife. To even mutter one word would have had me breaking down. While he confirmed for me that I was "normal," he managed to call me a liar as well. That was just too much for me to handle.

I went instead to my bedroom, where I collapsed onto my bed to cry deeply into my pillow. It was so overwhelming to feel so alone and misunderstood. I knew I frustrated my husband, but at the same time, I wasn't happy about being this way either. I certainly wasn't using it as some excuse not to do things that needed to be done. No. I was afraid. I was terrified. All the time. Over various things. Yet how could he ever understand such a thing? Would he even care if he did? Probably not. I would have to fight him later about this. For now, all I could do was cry.