There’s an event this morning. A community, let’s-get-to-know-each-other, awkward, anxiety-inducing gathering that I sort of indicated I might possibly definitely attend. As predictable as I am, I thoroughly intended to attend with both kids bedecked in their swim suits (or, as K says, “swim SOUPS”), but since the clock struck around 24 hours until the event, I’ve reconsidered.
I always do this, my husband reminded me; I always go, and I always say I’m glad I went.
“But that’s just what I say, because I don’t want to acknowledge my always overwhelming disappointment when a gathering fails to deliver what I expect, triggers multiple anxieties, and leaves me more drained than I was before,” I tell him honestly (in my head, because at that moment, I don’t have the energy to be that level of honest with anyone).
But this time, there’s more. (Actually, this kind of situation has happened before; I ended up taking K to the birthday party and felt awkward and anxious the entire time, itching every moment to get out of there and back home to my safe space, away from people. But I digress.)
This time, it’s more about getting my babies to interact with other preschool kids. Socialization is important, right? It makes kids less awkward and anxious as adults…
HOLY CRAP. I think that’s what they call a “breakthrough.” Where’s my psychiatrist’s phone number? Oh yeah. I don’t have one. Note to self.
So I’m still considering…
What’s the best that could happen (but never would)?
What’s the worst that could happen (and will trigger my anxieties for years to come)?
What should I do? HELP!
If it helps, my WEARING A SWIMSUIT at this event may be expected, and I’m at least 20 pounds overweight, so there’s that, too, which is HUGE. Ugh.