I have spent these last few months trying desperately to get into the fold of our new homeschool community. It's been a year since we started homeschooling. In that year, I have tried to become a joiner. Much to my chagrin, I think that's am not capable of just "going with the flow". I discovered today, what I wish I would've realized a long time ago...I am not capable of easy social interaction. The idea of a pending social function makes me physically ill. I dread it for days in advance. On the day of the event, I try, in my head, to invent a million reasons not to go. I think that from the outside, if someone were to watch me and know my though process on that day, they might think that I was lazy...of course...a mother not wanting to take her children to a social function. There were times when I asked myself just that. Did I just not want to be bothered? But I knew different. I knew (and know) that if there were a pill that would make me walk into a room and not have a mild heart attack, I would take two!
I thought that if I immersed myself in social situations, I would slowly become immune to the panic that strikes the night before even the most innocent playdate. So I did just that. I signed up for anything I could. I would further commit myself by paying in advance for field trips....therefore instituting a financial penalty on myself for backing out. I have been doing this since late October/early November. It is now April...a full six months into my self prescribed "immersion therapy". Guess what? I failed. Miserably.
I think the term being "socialized" is a misnomer. In my experience, you either ARE social, or you ARE NOT. Just as your gender and height are predetermined, so must your ability to mesh into a group of people. I do not mean "to belong", or make easy conversation, or even make a joke. I mean, simply, the ability to walk in, stand there, and not feel the clunky awkwardness of just STANDING THERE...wondering if you should sit or stand...walk up to someone and start a conversation or remain on the sidelines. It feels as though the oxygen gets sucked right out of my lungs.
This happened again today. Another outing with what has now become a familiar group of people. They are kind and welcoming. I stood on the sidelines. When a mom finally came up to speak to me, I truly had no idea HOW to make a conversation with her. I have spoken to her now multiple times. As she spoke, I found myself silently searching my brain, asking myself "What should I say to her next?". In those moments, I know I must've appeared uninterested in what she was saying, when actually I was trying to figure out where to go next with the discussion.
I sit here this evening, so discouraged.
Now, I know...KNOW...that in the grand scheme of the world there are real problems. I realize that there is homelessness and hunger, joblessness and illness. I am aware that my quandary exists in my world alone, and may seem small and petty for me to put so much time and thought into it...but you see...this problem affects my children a great deal.
At the end of today's field trip, others lingered. I did not. The activity was done, and I knew that if we stayed, the others would try to speak to me and peg me a bumbling idiot...because one on one, with no other distractions I AM a bumbling idiot. I knew as I walked out, that my children would've loved to stay and hang out. In truth, we stayed longer than I wanted. I fought myself to stay for the last half hour, as I sat at a table alone, where I had been for over an hour, as the other parents were scattered, in groups, at other tables. So in reality, I won that battle and held on as long as I could.
I'm starting to wonder if I will ever feel "normal". The odd thing is that in my career prior to being a SAHM, I had to speak in public and in social situations everyday. It wasn't easy, but it was my job. I have tried to look at this situation that way..."It's my job to take my children to social activities.". That just doesn't work.
If it was behavioral, then nothing could make me want to change it more than doing it for my children's sake...after all that's what has made me walk into every frightening room for over a decade now.
If it's not behavioral, then is there hope?
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