An Undeserved Break


It’s 3 a.m and I just sent out the notice that I’m quitting.

Now, to fight the feeling of being a complete loser, I’ve decided to sleep through tomorrow and hopefully avoid whatever email I get from the director.

I don’t even want to think about the fact that I still need to pick up two checks. I haven’t picked them up because I hate going into Guest Services and saying “can I get my check” to the service people.

I’ve conquered many, many aspects of my social anxiety since I was seventeen. I should be proud. But it’s hard to  . . .

It’s hard to think straight at all with fucking Beyonce telling me to put a ring on it in my headphones, hold on, let me change this shit . . .

Okay, I’m back.

work_hard_and_be_proud_what_you_achieve_classic_white_coffee_mug-re2f58fefca344354b0badcba2049726e_x7jg5_8byvr_324It’s hard to be proud when little things like picking up a check still stop me from functioning. It’s hard to be proud when I can hardly go anywhere by myself without being immensely uncomfortable. It’s hard to be proud when I can hardly go anywhere with someone without being immensely uncomfortable.

There are several things I’ve learned about myself over the course of the last few months:

  1. I’m not incapable of conversation; in fact when I try my hardest I’m alright at it.
  2. I’m too hard on myself when I make a mistake and the mistake runs through my head until I’m stuttering and sounding like an idiot which, in turn, makes me even more nervous.
  3. I don’t care.

That third one is important. When I say I don’t care, I’m talking about conversation, or being around people or staying organized or taking care of general responsibilities like laundry, dishes, e.t.c ,things people tend to get annoyed at me for not doing. I’m not interested in gatherings. If you tell me about your weekend, I’m most likely going to be uninterested. Not because I’m rude, but because I’m probably thinking about something else and you’re interrupting that.

Honestly, if I wasn’t so socially anxious and hyper-aware of social stereotypes, I wouldn’t care about hygiene either, unless it posed a health risk.


The other day I realized I’ve been on my own for two years. I haven’t had a friend or confidant (this doesn’t include my boyfriend) in two years. I’ve stopped speaking with them all because I got bored. In fact, that’s what usually happens. It’s too much effort to keep up friendships, so everyone ends up being an acquaintance, people who I help if they need help or people who sometimes offer to help me if they see I need it. Sometimes I’ll be around them, but those are the ones who I’ve known for over seven years and they’ve pretty much got used to how I am.


I’ve talked on this topic before, about wanting friends v/s needing friends. Are they a necessity? Some people seem to feel as if they are. I tend to disagree, I think it’s often an inconvenience in terms of, you know, personal fucking space.

Remember how they teach you as a young child not to let anyone in your personal bubble? Well mine is about four acres in diameter.

If someone is yapping at me, I don’t have time to be in my own head. That’s an inconvenience.


In terms of networking, I think they’re incredibly important. I try my best to be as fake as possible when it comes to business because they feed off that. I like to be friendly to coworkers just so there’s no confrontation. I have to put up with their yapping and their laughter and their conversation topics I don’t nor will I ever care about.

That being said, I care about people in terms of them being people. Because they are human and of my species, there is an innate affection I feel for them. When someone is in danger, I help. If someone sneezes in public, I say “bless you”. I joke with them and I have some weird ability to make people smile–don’t know where that comes from. They gravitate towards me. I like helping them, I like sharing logic with them and giving them a different point of view. I like knowing that they come to me before anyone for advice.

But I’m not my true self, I’m not satisfied, until I’m sitting alone in my room entertaining myself. That’s a real sense of happiness.

I think my boyfriend takes offense to that when I say it, as if I don’t want to be around him or something. I think a lot of people take my definition of happiness as personal, or they develop a train of dangerous deduction logic where they think “Because she likes being alone, and because she’s not alone when she’s with me, she hates being with me”.

first-for-effortFaulty logic, but I’ll give everyone an A for effort.

I don’t mind being around other people. Sometimes it becomes an inconvenience and I get bored or annoyed or anxious or angry and need to leave. That doesn’t mean I hate anyone, it just means I’m introverted and don’t give two shits about being average.

Like today, for example. We walked along the wharf, got some fish and fries or chips or whatever you want to call them in the country you live, and then stopped by an ice cream/candy shop for his little sister. And us. Because I got a bag of sour taffy. So much for eating healthy again.

This shop is tiny. The building is large but the majority of it is taken up by the counter top, the ice cream, the taffy maker, and their storage and cooking areas. So the hallways to walk are narrow and because it’s spring break, because it’s a tourist town in which I live, people were clogging the way.

Now, I can handle crowds up to a certain point. I could handle the crowds as we were walking up and down the Wharf because I was only at the mercy of my social anxiety, not to mention my boyfriend was right next to me.

But in that tiny store, it’s not my anxiety that overwhelms me. I’ve never been claustrophobic: I’m the type of person who finds small spaces comforting sometimes. It’s the sensory overload that gets me. It’s the skin to skin contact you have to put up with. It’s the fact that I can’t breathe without feeling like I’m invading someone else’s space or feeling that their breathing is invading my space. All of the voices sound like they’re shouting, all of the movement makes me extremely uncomfortable. I hate when people move.


Is that weird?

I seriously hate it. If there’s a chair somewhere, sit. If you’re standing, stop moving back and forth, it seriously puts me on edge to the point where I’ve shouted at people to sit down or stop moving.

The day was bright and sunny, another thing I struggle with because of how bright it is and how everything hurts my eyes. So by the end, after all of our purchases were rung up I just said “go, go, go” and booked it towards the nearest exit.

That was enough contact with the outside world for me for the next two days or so. I’ll still walk outside, maybe take a drive, take some pictures, but I won’t be confronting cashiers or going to work (obviously) or doing anything that overwhelms my system.

I need a break from everything.