They like me! They really, really like me!

As anyone who reads this blog regularly already knows, I’m a planner—not only with long-term goals (like baby-making) and work, but also with my social life. Here’s an example of what my weekly life was like pre-Zach:

Sunday pm: Community handbell choir rehearsal, 2.5 hrs
Tuesday pm: Small group Bible study, 2 hrs
Wednesday pm: Direct children’s handbell choir, 1 hr
Thursday pm: Church handbell and vocal choirs, 2.5 hrs

In addition, I was very active in trying to plan social engagements for M and me to fill up each weekend. If we didn’t have plans with anyone else for the weekend, I was a bit disconcerted. Although friends did call us, we were more likely to have called them first (and more often) to arrange dinner plans a few weeks in advance. Yes, I am that anal-retentive. Because of my social anxiety issues, I was also always concerned that other people were much more socially active than we were.

Then we lost Zach, and our lives became completely different.

For the first few days after we returned from the hospital (the first time), I was a hermit. I didn’t even want to talk to family members and close friends on the phone. Then, gradually, we started seeing more people over the next few weeks—always in small groups. I discovered at Thanksgiving that large (social) groups now make me skittish, as does planning too much for one weekend. I am most comfortable being around M; for anyone else, I have to be “on,” and I just don’t have the energy for that. I can enjoy being around friends, but only a few at a time, and for a short amount of time. (Boy, this makes me sound like I have some sort of disease, doesn’t it??!!) I did go back to work last week, but that’s completely different. At my office job, I don’t have to pretend I’m happy about life; I just have to get the work done.

Now, suddenly, the tables are turning. We aren’t calling people; they’re calling us. Sometimes it’s to check up on us, sometimes it’s to invite us to do something or issue an open invitation. It’s not because they feel sorry for us; it’s because they genuinely like spending time with us and, apparently, as we retreat, they pick up the slack. I actually told M last night that I’m concerned about how busy the weekend is shaping up to be. Yes, we have time for everything, but I really don’t want to overdo it. I need to have some quality time in front of the TV, dammit! Yet I find it difficult to reject all these people coming at us when it’s what I’ve always wanted.

I’m not complaining about this turn of events at all. I’m incredibly grateful—just a bit bewildered. Since I was a teenager, I’ve always had this theory that there are four aspects of life—Family, Love, Work and Friends (although Family and Love have pretty much merged since I got married, so I should probably create subcategories under Family to separate my marriage from our efforts to have a child—guess which of those two is at rock bottom right now?). You can never be completely happy with all four of those aspects at the same time. To quote from the musical “Avenue Q:” “Everyone’s a little bit unsatisfied/Everyone goes ‘round a little empty inside.” (Though it sounds depressing, it’s actually a very funny musical and very, very true.) Apparently, as my efforts to build a family have gone to crap, my happiness with my potential social life has skyrocketed. The only problem is that I’m not quite ready to be the social butterfly that I once was. I simply don’t enjoy spending time with friends as much as I used to—yet. I have to find that delicate balance between gratefully accepting the efforts of friends and family and taking enough time for myself.

And yes, I’ve dropped all the mid-week activities for the time being. I may resume a few of them again, but very, very slowly.

Social anxiety

Ever since I listed my “Eight Random Things,” I’ve been meaning to write a follow-up post. Specifically, I’d like to address No. 2: “I have a bit of a social anxiety disorder, though I don’t take medication or anything. I am constantly worried that a) everyone else has more friends, and definitely more close friends, than I do; b) I have said the wrong thing in a conversation with a friend/acquaintance; c) I’m the person at the party that you didn’t want to invite, but felt obliged to. I also typically get nervous before dinner parties/game nights/outings with anyone but my very closest friends. We usually have a great time, but I’m always nervous that we won’t, or that I’ll say the wrong thing. (I’m really not as much of a basket case as I sound like; I’m just being really, really honest here. And yes, I know that most of the time, it’s all in my head. I guess it all comes from having an extremely difficult junior high experience, when it WASN’T all in my head.)”

I was surprised to hear from so many commenters who said they, too, suffer from these same kinds of problems. It got me thinking: Are we all (women, at least) running around on this planet, scared to death of what other people think of us, convinced that we’re the only sad soul who feels this way? If so — man, if only we could all learn just not to care? To just shrug everything off?

As an adult, I’ve had a hard time making new friends. See, I expect certain things from a new friend — tit-for-tat, if you will. If I invite New Friend (hereafter known as NF) to dinner or some other social get-together, I will only make an effort a couple of times before expecting NF to do the same. If she doesn’t, then I automatically assume I have become the Leech. The Leech isn’t popular; she simply has a busy social calendar because she calls other people constantly. She almost never gets called herself. In my mind, in order to consider yourself a real friend, you must be sought after as much as you seek. Get it?

Because of a rough childhood experience (and, as silly as it sounds, the experience of having what I considered a good friend not ask me to be involved in her wedding at all), I have always assumed I am the Leech. Because, really, why would somebody else actually choose to spend time with me? Even if they don’t mind my company, I can’t imagine they would actually choose me over someone else. It’s not that I think poorly of myself; I just assume other people think poorly of me.

Recently, I have been shocked that a few friendly acquaintances have apparently been reaching out to M and me — reciprocating the “tat” for the “tit.” Yet I still can’t quite believe it. I will go over to their house, telling myself that they really didn’t want me there; they just felt obligated to make an effort. So I become nervous beforehand, convinced I will say the wrong thing and prove that I am not worthy to spend time with.

I look around at the rest of the world and see everyone with their “best friends.” Unconditional love. People who will never let you down. And although I have some good (out-of-town) friends, I’m not sure if I’ve ever had a “best friend.” Is that because of my personality? Or simply because I have guarded myself against getting too close for fear of being a leech and pressing too hard?

At one point, I convinced myself that once I had a baby, I would have limitless opportunities to make new best friends (can anyone say “play dates?). Yet, if I’m honest with myself, I can totally picture being incredibly jealous because Susie and her son Johnny seem to be spending a lot more time with Janie and her son Tim than they are with us. And so the cycle continues…

I feel sort of exposed, telling all of you about all the craziness that goes on inside my head. I promise, I really am a normal person most of the time; M and my mom are the only ones who get to hear about my insecurities. But I share this in hopes of helping someone out there who has the same self-doubting thoughts