The World of Social Misfits (ish).

A friend recently invited me to dinner at her house. She is a generous and kind human and often extends such invitations to me. Come for breakfast, stay through dinner. She is one of those people that endlessly offers herself and her space to others. She does so in a way that is entirely selfless. She isn’t looking to build herself up or make herself look better. She is just a really lovely person who wants the people in her life to feel loved and good. It’s miraculous and I feel lucky to know her.

Oh, and did I mention that I never leave her home empty handed? Snacks, skin care products, candles, books. There is always a treat stuck in my bag or in a pocket or in a bag she has provided. She is one of those people who warms you from the inside where suddenly things seem a little brighter after you’ve spent some time with her.

It’s not my intention to paint her as a perfect human. No one is faultless and my dear friend is no exception. She has her shit like anyone. The difference is that while she shares, she doesn’t dump. And, she’s a spectacular listener. And she’s incredibly self-reflective. And, she always finds a silver lining. Not an in-your-face, cheery bullshit silver lining.

She doesn’t say anything that minimizes your pain or makes your worries or issues seem trivial. Nope. She just offers perspective or a reminder that things tend to move through. Some shit stays longer, but eventually, it moves on. Things aren’t always better following the departure, either, but at least it’s new stuff to agonize over.

Anyway, so this ray of sunshine babe invites me to her house for dinner. She is having over some family. I haven’t met all of the folks she is referring to and yet I know in my heart that I’d enjoy their company. Whether or not they are inherently likeable (though I have this gut feeling they are), it’s nice meeting people. There are always stories. Stories to hear. Stories to tell. Stories to speculate.

There’s an irony there, because there is something definitely introverted about my soul. After extended periods with humans, I need quiet. And darkness. Really. I turn off most of the lights in my space and breathe after I’ve been social for long periods of time. I love socialization and I crave it and then after significant bouts of interaction, I find it necessary to allow myself a time out.  I’ve learned that over the years and rather than beating myself up for it, I give myself grace.

In those moments though- in my social moments, I make the best out of them, or try to. I soak it all in. I love hearing about people’s lives and their experiences. I love hearing different points of view. I don’t even mind when it errs on the side of crazy town. Another chance for a story. A wild story. A different story.

And still, I said no. I thanked my friend profusely and begged out. I told her that I had been the odd woman at many an occasion lately and I wasn’t feeling like being the fifth wheel or the nineteenth wheel for another evening.

As the words were coming out of my mouth, I regretted them. Almost instantly. I sounded childish and petulant. I was being extended an invitation to join a lovely group of humans for a meal and I was rejecting such an offer for reasons that were mostly fueled by ego. Sure, I’ve been social lately, but I was hardly at my breaking point.  

You know what it really was? Something within me felt like I needed an explanation. I needed to somehow disclaimer my singular status. I needed to explain why I was one and not one half of two. Sure, once in a while someone will ask me what my story is, but that usually comes in the form of “do you have children?”

Let’s sidebar for a moment- can you believe that shit? I think parenting or guardianship is lovely in the many forms it comes in (usually). I do. My sister gave birth to my niece and nephew and they are honestly two of my most favorite humans, so I am incredibly grateful she (and my brother-in-law) decided to undergo the journey. But can we finally agree that it isn’t for everyone and to inquire is bizarre and actually kind of rude? I don’t really need to get into all the reasons why, do I? I think we all get it. It sucks, so knock it off.

Anyway, people do ask from time to time if I have offspring or an “other.” They do. And I answer honestly. No and no. I don’t disclaimer or offer extraneous details. I don’t expand in any way. I just keep it simple. No. A smile. A gentle bowing out from the conversation. No. Thank you. Please. Thank you. Bye for now.

In other words, I’ve learned how to handle it. I’ve found my groove. I’ve created rote responses to questions that run the gamut from innocent to offensive, all rotating endlessly around the same topic: what’s your story?

In the moment I was asked to have dinner with what is likely a warm, welcoming, polite, lovely group of people- I decided to hard pass. I wimped out. I backed out. I decided that I wanted to avoid my well-practiced performance. I needed a night off.

Cool, right? Well, yes. But also, no.

When I feel like begging out of a social experience, I believe I should give myself that gift. I do. However, there are times that hard pass is actually an excuse, and that is where I start to take issue. Should we always remove ourselves from things when we feel like we can’t be “on”? What if we all decided to show up in whatever version of ourselves, we are capable of in that moment?

I’m not saying that it’s always possible, but shouldn’t we try for that? Should we? I don’t know the answer. I really don’t, but I feel like this is something I want to work on. I want to get to a place where my decisions come from the most authentic part of me. I don’t do anything or avoid anything because of fear. I just do all the things because it’s exactly what my heart wants me to do. That sounds pretty fucking amazing, no?

Seems like the perfect season to take this approach out for a test drive, no?

x

L.