I should start a drive-through clinic. That would be tons o' fun.
Today was a lil crowded for me and my current antisocial anxieties. It was a beautiful day, so of course we went to the park. A bunch of nannies, grandmas, with familiar kids came out of the woodwork to see the blue skies. I just didn't feel like talking to them. I whisked Pea away, and just as she got settled into her nap, Baby Daddy came home.
"How are you, Johanna? I mean, besides tired, because you look tired."
"I'm tired."
"Take a nap! Why don't you just lie down on that couch? I'll just do some work in the back room..."
By "do some work" he meant "roam the apartment to find pots and pans to bang together."
Pea woke, her bottle was interrupted in a thoroughly predictable manner, I whisked her off to a concert in Coolidge Corner. Her music teacher just released a CD of songs for children, and it's excellent. (Vanessa Trien - it's bluegrassy, funky, intelligent stuff, for those of you with kiddles.) She had this concert at a store called Magic Beans, which has a play space about the size of my Beacon St living room. There had to be, oh, 40+ children there, with assorted chaperones. Cla-oo-stra-phobia.
It was very nice to see a mom and baby we knew from music class, who burned out just about the same time we did. I got up to leave, and lo, there was Auntie.
"Hi Johanna! This is quite a crowd! You sticking around? M- (Auntie's 3 yr old daughter), say 'hi' to Pea!"
"It's a little crazy in here... Pea's looking a little flushed."
"YOU're looking a little flushed... Here, can you watch M and hold J (3 month old) while I run out for a sec?"
I said, "sure." Because I'm the type of person who always says, "sure." Because, really, what else are you gonna say to the sister of your employer who wants to see you confident and ready to handle any lil situation that pops up?
I'm recalling Fall '04, when I tried to make myself say something, ANYTHING, to the T driver once a day. I'm swimmin' in exactly the same amount of anxiety now, and yet the expectations for my performance are much, much higher.
The thing is, when thrown in with other people (social anxiety), I begin to feel like they're all watching me (paranoia) and my throat closes up (panic attacks) and I respond by pretending I'm super-bold and exciting (multiple personality disorder) or pulling my hair out (self-mutilating), and of course, it's all TEN THOUSAND times worse with (insomnia).
12 is my bedtime. Off I go to stare at the blinds and block out the scuttles of mice in my closet with my racing thoughts. Gosh, I'm fun.
1 comment:
I've decided that if I don't have social anxiety disorder, then I don't know what my problem is. (Maybe I've invented a new one?) So your throat closes, eh? The path between my brain and my wordhole somehow shuts down, which renders me unable to speak, which induces panic, which makes the anxiety that much worse. It's a never-ending cycle. Cheers to mental health! Jeers to social anxiety.
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