Only those of you that know me well, know that I have a paralyzing fear of seeming weak, or too incompetent or in need of help. I have extreme social anxiety that I have worked very hard to overcome. It was less than 10 years ago that I was so afraid of interacting with strangers that I could not go to the bank or store alone. I dropped or withdrew from my speech classes in college for 4 straight semesters before my advisor suggested that I try doing it at the community college, where the class size wouldn’t be so intimidating. I couldn’t tell you what made me want to change; I can’t put my finger on any one event that made me decide to change. It just happened.
It’s been an on-going personal project. I still feel terrified on the inside when I walk into a public place alone. I force myself to do it all the time in the hopes that over time, the anxiety will lessen. Hasn’t happened yet, but you never know. I’ve recently amped up my efforts and when I have made plans to meet someone at a restaurant I get there early and go inside to get a table all by myself. Sitting in a restaurant at a table alone is terrifying and usually makes me nauseous. I can feel every eye in the establishment on me, judging me for being alone, or wearing the wrong thing, or any other number of things I perceive to be wrong about myself. The small logical part of my brain knows that not a soul has noticed my presence, but the social anxiety jerkface voice is much louder than logic girl.
There are times where my desire to be strong has served me well. I could have completely lost my mind and shut down completely when I lost Izzy. That would have helped no one and it definitely would have been catastrophic for Maddy and Abbey. They would have lost their sister and their mother. There were lots of times that I locked myself in Izzy’s room and laid down on the floor and sobbed until I hurt physically and then I lay there a little while longer with absolutely no desire to get up and live. And then I would hear someone come upstairs, or come in the house and I would pick myself up, wipe my face and go on about life. For a long time I wanted to die for having failed her. But that was never a real option because I had responsibilities and things to do and beautiful girls that I wanted to get to know over the next 50 years. So I kept going.
A few months ago I got a flat tire and my roadside emergency service was a joke so I was stuck on the side of the road for several hours until a good samaritan showed up. I was horrified that I was so dependent on others, so I got the flat fixed and took it home and jacked up my own car and put the new tire on myself, so that I would never be in that position again. Being dependent on others makes me feel horrible and weak and I hate it.
My desire to be strong and capable has evolved into a desire to own all of my life. Including my feelings and my own self-image. I am responsible for both of those things. If I let someone make me feel pretty, or smart or ugly or silly, then I’ve given them power over me. If I really want to feel pretty or smart. I need to think those things. It's nice for other people to think those about me. But my self-esteem and self-image and self-worth cannot be generated and maintained by other people. Strong women decide how they feel and then they feel that way. And this is what I work to teach the girls when someone has hurt their feelings or said something unpleasant. Well, mostly it’s the two of them attacking each other, but what I say is this: You cannot control what someone else says or does. You can only control you and what you say and what you do and how you react. If someone says you’re ugly, but you know you’re actually not, and you allow them to get you down you, you are making them the boss of you. You know that you’re smart and you know that you’re pretty, so never ever ever let anyone have power over you to change the things that you know.”
I’m not a genius. No one is beating down my door asking me to write a parenting or self-help book. But I don’t feel like a victim. Ever. I get mad when people disrespect me. I get mad when someone screws me over. I get mad when someone tries to insult me or take advantage of me. And when I can take the opportunity to put someone in their place who has tried to insult or disrespect me, I take great pride in the fact that I have gotten myself to a place where I can be my own great defender. And I know that the girls are going to grow up and go out into the world and while I would happily follow them to college and kill anyone who tried to mess with them. That’s not really practical and I have to recognize that at some point they will stop telling me everything. Then I need to know that I have given them tools they can use to protect and defend themselves. So I’ll keep doing this, because it’s working pretty well for me.
It’s been an on-going personal project. I still feel terrified on the inside when I walk into a public place alone. I force myself to do it all the time in the hopes that over time, the anxiety will lessen. Hasn’t happened yet, but you never know. I’ve recently amped up my efforts and when I have made plans to meet someone at a restaurant I get there early and go inside to get a table all by myself. Sitting in a restaurant at a table alone is terrifying and usually makes me nauseous. I can feel every eye in the establishment on me, judging me for being alone, or wearing the wrong thing, or any other number of things I perceive to be wrong about myself. The small logical part of my brain knows that not a soul has noticed my presence, but the social anxiety jerkface voice is much louder than logic girl.
There are times where my desire to be strong has served me well. I could have completely lost my mind and shut down completely when I lost Izzy. That would have helped no one and it definitely would have been catastrophic for Maddy and Abbey. They would have lost their sister and their mother. There were lots of times that I locked myself in Izzy’s room and laid down on the floor and sobbed until I hurt physically and then I lay there a little while longer with absolutely no desire to get up and live. And then I would hear someone come upstairs, or come in the house and I would pick myself up, wipe my face and go on about life. For a long time I wanted to die for having failed her. But that was never a real option because I had responsibilities and things to do and beautiful girls that I wanted to get to know over the next 50 years. So I kept going.
A few months ago I got a flat tire and my roadside emergency service was a joke so I was stuck on the side of the road for several hours until a good samaritan showed up. I was horrified that I was so dependent on others, so I got the flat fixed and took it home and jacked up my own car and put the new tire on myself, so that I would never be in that position again. Being dependent on others makes me feel horrible and weak and I hate it.
My desire to be strong and capable has evolved into a desire to own all of my life. Including my feelings and my own self-image. I am responsible for both of those things. If I let someone make me feel pretty, or smart or ugly or silly, then I’ve given them power over me. If I really want to feel pretty or smart. I need to think those things. It's nice for other people to think those about me. But my self-esteem and self-image and self-worth cannot be generated and maintained by other people. Strong women decide how they feel and then they feel that way. And this is what I work to teach the girls when someone has hurt their feelings or said something unpleasant. Well, mostly it’s the two of them attacking each other, but what I say is this: You cannot control what someone else says or does. You can only control you and what you say and what you do and how you react. If someone says you’re ugly, but you know you’re actually not, and you allow them to get you down you, you are making them the boss of you. You know that you’re smart and you know that you’re pretty, so never ever ever let anyone have power over you to change the things that you know.”
I’m not a genius. No one is beating down my door asking me to write a parenting or self-help book. But I don’t feel like a victim. Ever. I get mad when people disrespect me. I get mad when someone screws me over. I get mad when someone tries to insult me or take advantage of me. And when I can take the opportunity to put someone in their place who has tried to insult or disrespect me, I take great pride in the fact that I have gotten myself to a place where I can be my own great defender. And I know that the girls are going to grow up and go out into the world and while I would happily follow them to college and kill anyone who tried to mess with them. That’s not really practical and I have to recognize that at some point they will stop telling me everything. Then I need to know that I have given them tools they can use to protect and defend themselves. So I’ll keep doing this, because it’s working pretty well for me.
Just ran across this. You described me to a tee. maybe someday I'll get past all of it too. hell maybe I should write a blog. nice read thanks
ReplyDelete