Posts Tagged ‘panic’

The First Step

Do you think after the first step, I'll just be able to ride on up to the next level?

Escalators courtesy TeddyBear[Picnic]/

Tomorrow Night (yes, capitals) I am going out with not only one girl friend, but two!

I know, everyone is very proud.

I’m having supper with one, and then meeting the other at a bar where more of our friends are playing (they have a band).

I’m a little nervous.

I mean, it’ll be fine, totally. Except that the last time I saw the one friend, I ended up crying about the state of Dashing and I in the middle of a restaurant, and the last time I saw the other, I offended her by being, well, me, and not thinking about the words I use while speaking (another plus of blogging!).

Mostly I’m nervous because when I get around people, I get excited. And when I get excited, I tend to get a little, um, EXCITED. I chit-chat-chitter away, speaking without filter, and then I end up spilling all my secrets (I can keep other people’s secrets, just not my own), which leads to crying. I cry. I’m a cry-er.

I didn’t cry for something like ten years, and now, I cry. Most often when angry or frustrated.

But anyway, I’m nervous about getting EXCITED and crying. Again. And talking too quickly and offending people. AGAIN.

But these are my friends, right? These are my people, the community I’m trying to preserve, right? We are there to support each other, and they know me. They usually find my quirks endearing, refreshing, even… right?

But what if…?

There’s a lot at stake, and I have to trust that it will get easier. The first step is always the hardest – it’s why I talk myself out of it so often.

Deep breath. Wish me luck!

How do you get over the hurdle to take a first step? Is it easy to trust your friends? To trust yourself? What do you think?


Speaking of cosmic jokes…

"Moth" by Christian Meyn/

Image “Moth” courtesy of Christian Meyn/

OK, so two things to know about me: one, I’m a control-freak who cries, and two, I’m terrified of moths…


Seriously. Stop laughing.

Not even joking, I do believe that moths are out to get me. When I was seven one landed on my hand that was holding the flashlight my cousin made me hold. Now you could be thinking, “Sure, flashlight, moth, of course it flew to you.” Yeah, alright, fine, but why then did it continue to drag its furry body all over my hand after I turned off the light and flailed around like a cartoon character??? Yeuch.

Then, when I was 21, and driving with the windows down (because, seriously, air conditioning bugs me), and a giant moth flew in the window and struck me in the face. Now, I thought it continued out the window, but no, it fell into the seatwell and started to climb up the inside of my pant leg – the leg that operates the accelerator and brakes, yeah, that leg. I almost crashed my car. And if you scoff at the word giant, let me tell you, no exaggeration, that thing was bigger than my two hands with the thumbs and first fingertips pressed together.

Also, we had a moth infestation a few years later and one flew into my iced cream sandwich as I was walking along, while my friend’s cone was totally left alone. Plus, there’s a myriad of other times where they will fly at my face – in my mouth – or into my hamper – or out of a cupboard when I open the door…

And that brings us to today. I was having a fight with my boyfriend while on my way to work. We were fighting because, well, that’s a much longer story and I’m so jumbled up right now that I can’t even begin at the very beginning… Suffice it to say I’m a control freak with crying issues, and he’s sensitive and takes things personally.

Anyway, he stops the car to get some kleenex because I’m practically having a full-out panic attack and what else can the man do but try to prevent my snozzing all over his new carseats – and because he’s nice, I know, shut up! So while he’s inside, I’m sitting in the passenger seat facing out the door I’ve just opened to try to let some early morning air penetrate my lungs as I hyperventilate, and a moth flies not only at me, but down the top of my dress.

Which just proves that someone out there still finds me amusing… Lord knows on this day, that person’s probably not my boyfriend.

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