Through many factors of my life, I have created myself into an introvert.
I love being home with my husband and our kitty cats.
I wish to entertain, love the preparation of me in the kitchen with Hallmark movies playing, but I freeze up horribly if actual human beings come over. My only coping mechanism is to sit on the couch with alcohol, laughing and smiling at the right time.
I think traveling sounds lovely, but I know I would be craving home the whole time. For our wedding anniversary, we might go out to dinner, but we adore being at our home, in our bed. When it is not agreeable with your children (aka cats) to leave home, suddenly your home becomes your own little universe!
Somehow, all comfort and joy are enclosed in those four walls with those select few that don't incite panic attacks.
And don't misunderstand me, it is not the people themselves most of the time that cause my panic. It is me. And it is residual shell shock from being formerly one who trusted too easily.
So when I finally made the transition during daily dinner time from sitting on the couch away from the household; which consists of my parents in-law, my hubby and I, along with our gaggle of cats; to sitting at my space at the dinner table, I felt a mini-revolution had taken place. I was sitting with the family and I was engaging and chatting and laughing and I was okay. I actually liked feeling a part.
Bravery is realized through baby steps.
So much terror is interlaced with me feeling like I have to be the entertainer or keep the convo going.
I'm beginning to loosen the stakes, to let go of it being my responsibility, to free myself of any need to perform or stay bubbly if I really am hurting.
I can be me, with my hang-ups, and my need for the protection of mimosas, and the transforming permission that it's not my job to make everyone feel comfortable.
Then meal time becomes about relaxation, relief, and refreshment. Exactly what is was meant to be all along!
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| Illustration by M. Boulanger |
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