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You should be patting me on the back! Being this neurotic’s hard work!

January 24th, 2010

I’ve never really been one for New Year’s resolutions.  I get the whole “new year, new slate” philosophy, and it’s awesome in theory.  But when it comes right down to it, not many people believe that.  And those who do usually only mean it for themselves, and not the people who may or may not have wronged them in the dying year.

But after last night, I decided I definitely need new goals.  Ones that won’t interfere with Master’s training in any way.  That will probably help it along.  And will just plain make me feel better.  Happier.  More confident.

A while back I realized I was part of my problem.  I admitted I wasn’t really giving this relationship an honest shot.  I wasn’t really trying.  And I talked about my addiction to misery and how I won’t allow myself to be happy.

And for the most part, I’ve been trying to change all that.  But there are things that I really haven’t even attempted to change.  Things that I talk about and make evident when I ramble, but that I, in my mind, completely ignore.  I pass it off as “normal” even though I know it’s not.  At least, not to the extent I take it.

I’ve, mostly, let go of my self-hatred.  I mean, thirty years of despising myself won’t just go away because I decided it should.  I still trip, occasionally.  But I’m getting better.  I’ve even decided that M’s right.  I should only be worried about getting healthy, not necessarily losing weight.  I look good, even if I am fat.  I just need to find somewhere to shop that has flattering clothing rather than the flowing, shapeless garbage and empire waists I see everywhere.

My biggest problem, lately, is my paranoia and social phobias.  It’s getting out of control.  If last night wasn’t a clear indication, I don’t know what was.

We went to Master’s company party last night.  And we had a blast.  Like, seriously.  Our table was almost the only group of people in the place laughing.  People were stealing other people’s seats the second they got up to sit with us.  We were the “fun” table.

What’s funnier? We were also the “engineering” table.  Engineers aren’t supposed to be rowdy! They’re definitely never known as the “fun” table.  I mean, you’re lucky if they even go to company-wide functions.  Even in a company with as few employees as Master’s has.  Engineers in any line of work aren’t exactly known as social people. 

They’re like a bunch of elementary school boys.  And last night, Master was the coolest one in the bunch.  Cause His wife is the “Pleasure Connection”.  Ha!

So they’re all asking me questions about sex toys and then giggling hysterically behind their cream-colored cloth napkins as their faces turn red, then rose, then almost purple.  You’d think I was the sexy second grade teacher and I’d just said “blow” or “but”.  It was hilarious.

And, of course, I exacerbate the situation by talking about the big black dick that hung off our wall for more than forty-eight hours.  And how I’ve never “met” a man that big.  (Well, how can you tell? I mean, I assume you’ve never seen any of us naked. When I say “met”, I mean…  Oh! You mean met.)  And how we tried to coax Zedd into perching on it.

I just threw caution to the wind.  I’d eased these people into the real me at the Christmas party in December.  It was time to just be me.  And if they don’t like it, who cares? I mean, really, they’re Master’s coworkers, not His blood.  And even if they were His blood, He wouldn’t want me to pretend to be someone else.

Course, when we went to bed and M fell asleep the second His head hit the pillow, the voices in my head started niggling at me.  Was I too loud? Did we have too much fun? Was I missing awkwardness? Were they really laughing at me instead of with me?

But you know what? It’s not fucking high school and I don’t care.

It feels really good to say that.  But actually following through?

A few weeks ago, M and I were drinking.  And we were watching something light.  Something we didn’t really have to think about.  Probably MythBusters or Scrubs.  And I had to pee.

I’m not required to ask permission to go to the bathroom.  I’m allowed to wander the house freely to take care of any wants or needs I might have so long as I’m not gone long and don’t try to busy myself with something that takes my attention from whatever it is we’re doing together.  But when I was sitting on the toilet emptying my bladder, the voices in my head kept telling me I was doing something wrong.  I’m over 21 drinking with my husband in my own home, when I’m not sitting on the toilet taking a leak, but I was convinced I was going to be in trouble with… someone for doing… something that was bad.

In short, I’m a freak.

I worry about everything all the time.  I don’t just try to refrain from getting too comfortable.  I refrain from getting comfortable at all.  I never trust anything anyone tells me unless I’ve heard it elsewhere.  I don’t believe most compliments or honest responses.  I live inside my head and the dark fantasies of everyone in the world hating me that have never really been true.  I push everyone away because I can’t even live up to my own standards, so how could I possibly live up to theirs?

Now? It’s uncomfortable.  And annoying.  And frustrating.

I have friends, both around the neighborhood and online, who will have full-on conversations with anyone who will happily speak with them.  And it gets them places.  And me? I sit back and worry about whether or not I’m out of line by just talking to someone.  I don’t know what to say, and I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing, so I say nothing.

The only exception to this rule is a one-on-one conversation with someone I don’t know well.  Then I don’t shut up.  Because I’m uncomfortable with the silence.  I feel obligated to be entertaining.  And when I’ve got nothing, I start to ramble.  I’m a nervous talker.

I’m tired of it.  I don’t know how to beat it.  But one way or another, I’m going to.  Cause this constant state of panic is ridiculous.

I mean, I went to a party with thirty or so people that I’ve known for the better part of seven years.  Who have seen Master and me through the best and worst of times.  Who, even though they’re not all close to each other, and they’re certainly not all close to me, are particularly good about taking care of their own.  Or, at least, they used to be before the company got so cut-throat.  And we had a blast.

But you best believe I panicked before we left.  And I lost sleep over it when we got home.  And my stomach is still roiling from fear that I said something wrong.

Ah well.  Such is the life of an anthropophobe, I guess.  But one way or another, I will beat this.  I will finish 2010 more confident and less bothered by the opinions of others.  If it kills me.

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  1. January 24th, 2010 at 17:19 | #1

    Hunni you are not the only one that goes through that trust me. I still stop and check myself alot, as much as I don’t want to hide who I am sometimes I have to, not because I am ashamed more because people don’t understand and the judgemental shit does hurt on ocassion. Good on you for having fun and the courage to be yourself, we all need to it more often.

  2. January 24th, 2010 at 17:21 | #2

    I’ve known a lot of people with social anxiety and such, but yours absolutely blows me away! I’ve seen you make a lot of great strides in this area though, even if you don’t see it. Like I told you earlier, just enjoy the fact that people DO enjoy you, and there isn’t always something you’re not seeing. Muah, big fucking kiss, sugar dumplin! 😛

  3. January 24th, 2010 at 19:31 | #3

    I know you’ve written in the past about being in and out of mental health places, but have you ever tried therapy under less extreme circumstances? Like, now? It might be really helpful, as therapy for anxiety related stuff tends to be pretty effective.

    I’m not one to have social anxiety in any way, shape, or form, and I can’t imagine the difficulty of living inside your head so much all the time. I’m sure it gets frustrating and tiring. Good for you for wanting to change it, and for trying to take steps to do so. <3

  4. January 24th, 2010 at 19:49 | #4

    @vanimp It’s actually good to know I’m not alone. I’m just over it. Love me or hate me, I’m me. That’s all I can be. You know?

    @cinnamon Thanks, babe.

    @Britni TheVadgeWig Actually, all of the therapy I’ve tried has been forced. Either by my parents or by the police or by the court. I’ve considered giving it a shot. Maybe if the situation exacerbates itself instead of getting better, I will. But in the meantime, I think I’m gonna try the old-fashioned way. “Everyone does not hate you. They’re laughing with you, not at you. You do not have a booger hanging out of your nose. Your breath smells like liquor not shit.” =D

  5. January 24th, 2010 at 20:29 | #5

    @rayne I’m a little biased about people trying therapy, mostly because I’m a therapist, myself. But it ends up being much more effective when you do it on your own terms, and are ready to make the changes, instead of being forced to make them. But people can, and do, overcome this stuff on their own, too.

    Also, I wanted to give you the link to this resource list of plus-sized clothing websites and retailers: http://community.livejournal.com/fatshionista/2123888.html

    It’s really comprehensive!

  6. January 25th, 2010 at 06:36 | #6

    @Britni TheVadgeWig Wow, thanks! Now I have something to do when I’m in M’s office today. Looks like there’s some really good stuff there.

  7. January 25th, 2010 at 14:50 | #7

    Rayne,

    I so get where you’re coming from. It took me decades to get over that kind of percieved social ineptitude. The break through for me was when I decided I ahd to teach and went back to school. It finally dawned on me that there where things I had to say and share that others actually wanted to hear. You too have things worth sharing; and are worth knowing in and of yourself. After all, we read your blog.

    Dave

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