When I was a small girl and my mom introduced me to someone new like a friend, colleague or neighbor, generally speaking, I wouldn't speak. I probably ran away a few times too or just looked at the person I was being introduced to a bit to intensely for someone afraid to speak or shake hands.
Okay, so you got me...that didn't just happen when I was a small girl, it happens all the time. In fact, it happened on Saturday night.
The set-up - Ross gave me a cold. Yes a cold in August. Go figure. I'm still fighting it and right now if you were to call me on the phone I'd have to share secrets only you knew to convince you that I am me because I sound nothing like me...a little bit more like Kathleen Turner but not as sessy as Lauren Bacall.
Anyway - on Saturday Elliott and I weren't feeling well and stupid of all stupids, we RSVP'd to the ward party. I haven't been to one of those in...are you ready for this...5 years! That sort of function is just something Ross and I generally try to avoid, for lots of reasons, so we don't ever go. This one sort of "sneeked" up on us and after a brief discussion that sounded like this:
Me: Do you think we should go?
Him: I don't know, do you think we should go?
Me: What do you think? We've never been before?
Him: I don't know, what do you think? Maybe we should make an appearence?
Me: ARE YOU SURE YOU WANT TO GO? I don't want to go.
Him: No I'm not sure, but I guess maybe we should.
Me: I don't want to go.
Him: Okay, we'll go.
we decided to go. Why did we decide to go?
You see, even as a 30 year old woman who is married, has a career and a toddler, I still cannot talk to people. We got there too early (on time), and there was no one there yet (no one I felt comfortable talking to) and when the people I did know came they talked to me (thank you!!!) but they are also more social than me so they set up their chairs in the center of the action and I was left standing alone, with a whining baby nervous, confused, and a little sweaty.
What did I do and where did I go? I took my grumpy baby and my befuddled, paranoid, social anxiety disorder self and stood as far away from the burgeoning group as possible, begging Ross to let me go home. We were only there about an hour (felt like a lifetime) and when a few people approached me I managed to conversed with ease. Well, sort of ease.
Really, you can just call me spazz (the extra z is for emphasis). Here I am, a former teacher who kept 17 year olds spell bound with my tales of history, a professional development trainer and presenter who has commanded (used loosely by the way) classrooms of adults and large audiences at conference presentations, someone who can direct a photo shoot, make a comment, and host a book club and, AND when it comes time to go to a "party" I freeze, freak out, almost start crying, and beg my husband (who made me sick) to let me go home.
He did let me go home but not until we ate our hamburgers. On the short walk home, I apologized for being a moron and he "scolded" me for projecting my teenage angst onto my baby boy making him cranky.
Elliott fell asleep in his stroller with snicker doodle all over his face.
2 comments:
I feel the same. So does JJ. I had to leave so I could beat my child and I did not see you after I came back. Your cup cakes were really good.
You are weird sister. Remember when you used to make ME go back to the counter at Mcdonald's for more ketchup packets because you were scared to? Just sit in one place and smile!
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