The Old

So, as previously mentioned (probably a hundred times) in this blog, this year's theme, since I received a psychic reading in May, has become "out with the old, in with the new." Surprisingly, the psychic was right! (How about that?!) Not surprisingly, in the aftermath of that reading, a whole lotta old has come my way, forcing me to face and wade through my past.

An ex-boyfriend who should stay firmly shuttered in the past came out of the woodwork during the summer, ending nearly three years of peaceful silence, turning up like clockwork with increasingly annoying messages (i.e. "You should give me another chance" to hurt and humiliate you, etc.) on Father's Day, Fourth of July, First of August, once a month, whether I needed him or not (hint: I didn't!). 

I was polite at first (my usual standby mode, despite rumors to the contrary) but when someone doesn't accept a polite no, the inevitable next step is a firmer no, subsequently followed by a firm contact block. Sadly, sometimes polite doesn't work, it rather encourages bad behavior. I'm learning that sometimes you have to cut people off in order to leave things where they belong - namely in the past. 

Also last summer, an unexpected invitation...to my high-school reunion...arrived. I skipped the ten-year for obvious reasons: I wasn't a famous writer (or famous anything, for that matter) and didn't have a hot date (or any date, for that matter). Oh, and the other no-brainer reasons, like my school years being a living nightmare of angst, awkwardness, and unrequited crushes, reprieved only by a smattering of amazing people I was blessed to call friends. 

And while I was tempted to visit with them, I was also afraid. There were too many unknown variables, such as former classmates that I had no interest in ever seeing again. Having some of them randomly pop up, like threatening jacks-in-boxes, on social media was scary enough. I was happy to follow my psychic's advice to leave the past behind and move on. So I observed my reunion from the comfort and safety of home by watching others suffer through theirs (with ensuing comic mayhem and a few casualties here and there) in the film Grosse Pointe Blank.

The reunion came and went without my added presence. A few months later I was pleasantly surprised by a message from one of my former closest friends, the one who'd sent me the high-school reunion invitation. Aside from being Facebook friends and sending my regrets in response to her invitation, I'd fallen out of touch with her during the college years over ten years ago, after which she'd moved out of state, married, and had a pair of adorable boys. 

It was so great catching up with her that I almost (but not quite) regretted missing the reunion. Maybe it would have been better than I'd feared. About a month later, a second invitation followed, this one for a party at her house (she recently moved back to her hometown area) with a handful of former classmates, a sort of mini-reunion, but a "safe" one with people I (formerly) knew and liked.

 

I racked my mind for a valid excuse to miss it...and came up empty. To my surprise, I wanted to go! (Again, how about that?!) When the Saturday in question arrived, after weeks of careful preparation,  I was ready. I dressed nicely (though I stopped short of rewearing my prom dress...which I still have, by the way...), had my hair professionally styled, filled a slow cooker with pasta, bought a cheesecake sampler at the grocery store en route, chugged half a gallon of coffee, packed up gift bags for everyone, took several deep breaths, swallowed my considerable fear, and discovered my amazing friends were still amazing despite marriage, motherhood, and a decade's passage. My fears of not fitting in, not having anything to talk about, and not being liked (and fear of not liking them) were happily unfounded. 

In short, I had pretty much the best time ever. Even if ten more years pass without another reunion, I've still reaped the reward of conquering fear, feeling like Superwoman for doing so, and spending a glorious afternoon with some of the best people I've ever met. 

I learned that usually the past should stay there, but sometimes it's worth revisiting. Maybe sometimes I need to revisit my past, very briefly, in order to let it go, to unpack any remaining baggage, so to speak. And sometimes what's old (former relationships) can even, in rare occurrences, become new (resurrected friendships).

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I'm Not Bitchy. I'm Anxious.

"In short? It's exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax." ~ Jenny Lawson

My resting bitch face (RBF) (I'm Not Mad. That's Just My RBF.) must be softening because a student informed me the other day at the college where I work that I "always seem so happy!" I was sure I must have misheard her, so I stopped and asked, "I do?!" She responded affirmatively, I went on my way, and the social exchange truthfully brightened my day.

Why? Because it means I'm doing something right if my inner peace and compassion are reflected in my demeanor. That hasn't always been true. (In fact, my annual resolution is always to smile more frequently.) You see, when you're afflicted with social anxiety, as I am, you're inevitably misunderstood and misjudged. You're dismissed as "unfriendly," "snobby," "serious," "shy," "uninvolved," "uninterested," "intense," "intimidating," and "humorless," when you're often anything but. 

When you avoid social situations (in an attempt to avoid accompanying panic attacks), people tend to take it personally (and being a small-talk-averse introvert doesn't help matters). They inevitably think you don't like them (individually) when you're honestly afraid of them (collectively). (And while I wish people in general were more accepting and less judgmental of others who behave differently than them, I realize that I need to do my part.)

As a result of my social anxiety, my fear of saying and doing the wrong thing (at the wrong time) paralyzes me. I freeze, unable to say anything at all (making my fear a self-fulfilling prophecy). If a friend invites me to go out, my first instinct is to find an excuse not to, not because I don't want to but because the fear, which ranges from mild to moderate to occasionally five-alarm severe, controls me. So, sometimes when walking down the hall at work my chest and throat tighten and my heart pounds, even if I know and like the person walking by me. It's totally irrational (I realize) but normal for me.

But "normal" is such a tricky word. Thing is, I wish I'd known years ago, even as a preteen when going to school and the grocery store (and often staying in the car rather than entering the big, scary, potentially schoolmate-laden store) inspired feelings of terror within me, that I wasn't the only one who only felt safe at home, with my family (people I knew), hiding out from the world between the pages of an ever-present book (ranging from Sweet Valley High to celebrity biographies). 

I felt the same way reading Jenny Lawson's Let's Pretend This Never Happened as I did reading Susan Cain's Quiet: Where was this book 20 years ago when I felt freakish and alone and wondered what the hell was wrong with me? Why did leaving the house and, God forbid, talking to non-family members make me feel faint and panicky? 

Now I know. I wish I did then.

Anyway, if the first step in solving a problem is recognizing and defining the issue, then I'm on my way. As I've written many times before, I've begun challenging myself to overcome my myriad fears, a neverending venture when you have as many phobias as I do. (I'm like Amazon.com: you name it, I've got it...) 

I'm no longer content with avoiding everyday social situations that require some type of conversation. And obviously some things can't be avoided, like work, grocery shopping (if there's a way to avoid this, please let me know!), library patronage, doctor's appointments, leaving my apartment, etc. Little things like driving to a local coffee chain located at a traffic-heavy end of town for an iced coffee had me so fearful of a fender-bender that I'd previously driven to a more rural, out-of-the-way one to avoid it. Things that make no logical sense are perfectly logical when you have an anxiety disorder.

But I'm making progress. Not only did I make that trip to the coffee shop, get an iced coffee, and escape with my life (narrowly, perhaps, but victoriously), but I'm meeting up with some friends from high school this weekend (a kind of safer mini-reunion to make up for the one that I couldn't handle this past summer). True, these are some of the best friends I've ever had, so I shouldn't feel anxious, but I haven't seen them in several years. What if they don't like the person I've become (or vice versa)? 

There's plenty to worry about if I think about it (or anything else) long enough. But that's okay. 

I'm doing it anyway.