This weeks post for Bipolar Parenting Project
I have always been socially awkward. Shy if you prefer a nicer term I guess. I have always been to the point where I become horribly anxious. The idea of socializing with a room full of strangers makes me sweat and nauseous. Ironically, if you put me up in front of a room to be a speaker, I can go on for hours. I think this is mainly because I ramble horribly when I am uncomfortable. A great example is my husband and I’s first date. We went to a casino with my friend and her husband. The casino is about 2hr drive from where we live. He and I rode together and he said about three words. I chattered for the WHOLE 2hrs. I think I was up to high school in life story by the time we made it. I mean it seemed to work because we have been married for 3 years and have 2 kids. See I am rambling again.
My anxiety spills over into the social world. I am a chronic stalker. I belong to tons of groups and I rarely comment. I just like things. Oh that was a great response to that post. “Like” What a cute picture of you wearing your baby. “Like” However as much I may want to comment on something, I just can’t bring myself to share my words. I think it has to do with a lot of factors. First most people do not know how to take me. I am tend to be frank about what I have to see. So I have a hard time faking being nice. However, I am actually genuinely a very nice person but I won’t blow smoke up someone’s ass. Secondly sarcasm does not read well over written media. Especially when you don’t know when to take me seriously or not. Thirdly, I am honestly weird. And weird makes people uncomfortable.
So I have a hard time saying things because I am afraid they are going to misunderstand me. Then I get the look of “Oh” with the side eye. You know the uncomfortable look of “How the fuck do I respond to that?” I get it a lot. I also have this feeling of always thinking I am an outsider. I have a hard time shaking the feeling like I don’t belong. I think it has to do a lot with my past. We moved a couple of times so I never got to really prove myself in a group. There was always a group I could end up joining but I never had the same history to share. Thus making me feel like an outsider.
To add icing to the crazy cake, I have a strong distrust of people. I am one of those people who automatically feel like the room is judging me. You start laughing and just happen to be looking in my direction, you are making fun of me. You could say I am slightly paranoid. I have instant gratification issues. I need to know I am doing well every time, all the time. If I post something and it really doesn’t go the way I planned, automatic failure. Instead of thinking logically about it, I start to think that people different feel like I was good enough for their attention. So when one person says something positive I think they are just being nice. Maybe they just took pity. Yes, I have terribly low self-esteem when it comes to my writing. Ok while I am being honest. I have low self-esteem, period.
I think always being unsure of myself makes it hard for me to connect with people. I want to be that voice that people want to hear. I want to make a difference in people’s life. But how am I going to do that if I can’t get my shit together? I have a thousand ideas for posts but they never make it to the page. Why? Because I think my stuff is crap. How do you make a connection with people when you can’t even get out of your shell? I want to step out and shine. I am trapped. Trapped in this overwhelming need to puke and cry all at the same time. As I think about having to give this, my nerves are getting to me. I am having second thoughts. Streaming words of doubt are raging through my mind like a forest fire. And all I have is a single bucket of water.
That single bucket of water is called hope. It is something I have always told myself to have. I hope that one day I can be to a place where no only do I believe in myself. But I also believe the people who believe in me. I keep hoping that one day that my words will make a difference in the world. At the moment it is only a dream. Yet doesn’t everything start out as a dream.