I hate to say it, but I am a party pooper. Not for your parties, my own. Social anxiety affects many facets of my life; it does not take a break on my birthday.
“I appreciate you, my love. I appreciate that you allow your texts to go unanswered for weeks at a time. I appreciate you giving me space when I feel the walls are closing in on me. I appreciate you forcing your way into my mind when I have been quiet for too long. And I appreciate your reassuring hand when my thoughts tell me to push you away and my actions carry out this order accordingly.”
Do you lie awake at night and think about the things you could have or should have said but didn’t? I do. Constantly. Here is my list.
Before I could give it a name to it, I exhibited signs as of being an extremely anxious child. My parents would tell my teachers I was very shy and needed more time to warm up. I had regular stomachaches, was irritable, sensitive, and hardly spoke.
“Will you be my bridesmaid?”
Internally: No, no, no, no
Me: Of course!
Becoming my friend is a long, arduous process. It usually takes me a year or more before I feel like I can be myself and until then, it is one-sided conversations, lots of head nodding, and me deflecting personal questions so the other person continues to talk about […]
I thought I would make a list of tiny things I do/need in order to recharge that does not involve: forcing myself to “feel pretty”, getting a massage, going for a jog, or eating kale. For me, sometimes simple things can be neglected when I feel overwhelmed or not myself. Maybe if you are struggling with how to fulfill the concept of self-care in your life, this may help.
My resistance and admiration of D&D stem from the same places, which makes every session so damn conflicting. It involves interacting with other people, which I hate. It involves working together to solve problems, which I hate. It involves sharing your ideas, which I hate. Lastly, it involves thinking of things on the spot, which I hate.
This is how is goes for me, someone acknowledges me in some way, and I immediately want to disappear. Why is that? Shouldn’t I be thrilled that someone noticed me? The attention, the unsought validation, should make my heart flutter not fold over so it becomes tinier and tinier.