Excused. in Clutter cleaning scrub it to fuck and back fun time.

I got out of Jury Duty for at least two years. To be honest, it sucks.

I went down to the court house. The place was packed with about 100 or more people. As it turns out, we were all there to be possibly selected to sit on a Jury for a particular case this week. The trial would start tomorrow morning.

It seemed like a pretty simply case of 2nd degree assault at the local jail. I’m assuming it would be simple because the judge said that it would be over by Friday if not sooner.

I was very tempted to try to do my best to get on the Jury, because I do believe that participation is important, since I’m very Patriotic and believe in the system. I know the system has some short comings, and it’s not perfect, but I also believe that it’s the best one humans can come up with.

Yes, it is inconvenient, and there is a commitment to being on a Jury, but at some point we might all at one time or another end up in a situation where our peers will have to decide if we are innocent or guilty, and if we continue to be free, or spend time in a cage. It could happen to anyone.
So far, it hasn’t happened to me.

Anyway, after about an hour and a half of things being explained by court house people, and the judge, that judge asked us if anyone feels that there is a reason that they cannot serve on the Jury this week, to go around the room and approach the bench.

I felt awkward being one of the very few people who went up there. There were at least 100 people listening to what we were whispering to the judge.

The guy before me sounded more convincing then I thought I would be, and he had the same issues of some form of anxiety.

The judge didn’t hesitate exuding him for two years, and the two lawyers standing there had no objections at all either.

I felt like a an idiot, but I was honest about my situation, even though I’m not quite sure what exactly my situation is.

Judge signaled to me to approach.

Judge: Go ahead.

Me: I may or may not have difficulty sitting through the trial in the jury box. Sometimes I get claustrophobic and anxiety having to sit in locked in rooms, even large places like this court room. (The place was quite big and airy, it wasn’t tight like an airplane for example).

Judge: (slight laugh) What do you mean “You may or may not have a problem.”

Me: I can get claustrophobic and anxious if I am not able to leave a place. Generally I can control it, but not always. I can get mild to moderate anxiety attacks.

Judge: Are you on medication for this, or being treated.

Me: I have Xanax for when I have to fly on a plane, but that’s it.

At this point the judge asked the lawyers if they had an issue with what I said.
The lawyers mumbled in agreement that “We defer it to the court.”
In other words they left it all up to the judge.

Judge: I’m going to excuse you from Jury Duty for two years. I hope you can get a handle on your situation. Good luck.

I thanked him and left.

I felt like telling him that I’ve had this situation since I was about 25. So half my life.
I also wanted to say, that generally I have an excellent handle on it, but occasionally it gets the better of me, and I can’t be certain if I can sit through a short trial without any issues, or not.

While I’ve heard that some people who are called for Jury duty will lie and make shit up to try to get out of it, I actually didn’t want to get out of it.
It makes me feel like a loser, that as a man, I have such pussy issues like this. Would Attila the Hun, or a great warrior…hell, even a pickle farmer, get anxious and possibly freak out simply because they have to sit in a room with a closed door for a few hours a day?

I hate what I perceive to be any kind of weakness in myself. I also don’t respect it in other people who grow comfortable with it, and feel that the world needs to recognize it in them and cater to it.

A big part of me feels I should have taken off my panties and dress, put on some fatigues and combat boots and sucked it up and dealt with it in a more manly way, by telling the anxiety to shut the fuck up, and get its ass in the back of the bus like the pussy boy that it is.
Usually this works, and the anxiety scuddles away with it’s tiny dick between it’s legs. But sometimes it manages to kick my ass.

About 25 years ago it kicked my ass to the point where I had difficulty going anywhere, and when I did go somewhere, it would get so bad that I would have to almost run out of there. I couldn’t sit through a meal at a restaurant, ride a bus, or even ride in a car with another person. (alone I was fine because I was in total control).

What I do not know, is exactly what caused this situation in my mid twenties. I was perfectly fine up until then. I think at some point, for some unknown reason I started thinking in “what if’s”
What if I’m out and I get the shits (seriously)
What if I’m in a place and I can’t find a good excuse to get up and leave.
Things like that.

To beat it, I realized that I would have to take baby steps. Go out for just a little bit. Force myself into situations where I would get a panic attack, and then sit there and deal with it for as long as I could. Try to calm down, and relax.

Tell my self, “fuck the world, nothing, no one, and no situation can ever have real control over me, because no matter what, ultimately I was in control of my self and environment, and if not I would take back control.”
Mind games like that. Not always realistic and true perhaps, but maybe when everything boils down, we can actually be in control. Even if beaten, we can still be in control of how we handle the beating. (Figuratively speaking).

I worked on it, without assistance or medication, and it took about a year for me to start beating it, but in time, maybe two years total, I kicked the fucking living shit out of it to the point where generally the anxiety is just a tiny shadow, huddling in a corner with it’s head between it’s legs afraid to even look up.

But sometimes, once in awhile, it still makes a move against me, and I really didn’t want to have to do battle with it in a quiet, locked court room, full of people.

Then again, part of me actually wanted to kick the shit out of it yet once again.

Maybe it two years I will do just that.

Last updated June 22, 2015