No. I’m not in Las Vegas.
I’m simply in my own head. Thinking. My best friend’s bachelor party was this weekend and I wasn’t able to go. Both physically and mentally.
The physical part I can’t do anything about, it’s the mental part that has me a bit worried. And has brought a thought into my head that has been bouncing around in there all day, while i’ve been sweating and shivering and all in all feeling like I got hit by a truck.
I’m more afraid of my friends, than I am of strangers.
Mull that over. Think it through. There, that’s the look of “huh?” that I was waiting for.
It’s overly simplified, that’s for certain, but once I dig a bit deeper into my mind, and how I work, it makes more sense. At first, the thought came out as “I’m afraid of people.” But that’s not completely true. I don’t mind random strangers in the stores, or even customers or anything else. I can strike up a random conversation with a random person so much easier than I can call my best friend to wish him a happy bachelor party.
Not that I doubt there’s such a thing as a miserable bachelor party.
But the thought tumbled and spun and then evolved, and I realized, I’m really afraid of my friends. At least the older friends. The ones that I’ve had the longest. Or at least, longer than the new friends.
Take this weekend for example. While I would love to have gone up to see the guys, I would have been a miserable wreck, far too miserable to enjoy myself at first. First, I hate to drive. And driving far distances like that, that scares me. And makes me a miserable wreck. Second, I don’t drink anymore, I don’t smoke anymore, I’m really a goodie two shoes.
Now, towards the end of college, I had stopped drinking, because it was simply bad for my health all around. So they’re used to me being the sober one. But, I’m also a lot more timid than I was back then. Lots of things have happened in my life between the time I left college and now. And not all of it is good. And a lot of it left some serious scars on my psyche.
I’m not as fun loving as I was back in college. I’m a lot more serious, a lot more down to earth, and frankly, a lot more boring. I have no funny stories to tell of my wild adventures in Maine. Simply the stories about how hard it was to try to make ends meet on two hundred dollars a month (after rent). I have no wild stories about life since I moved back home. I worked at walmart and I stay in my house all the time.
True, I have finished my degree now, and that puts me back to being on par with them. Sort of. But they all have jobs that they enjoy, and that pay them well. I’m working for my dad’s non profit and taking care of the house, and pretty much just getting fat. M has his masters in nursing and is working at a job that he loves. B has his double degrees in History and Theatre and he’s working with a theatrical/events company and making pretty good money. They both have fiancées and Mike is getting married in 12 days.
I have the love of my life, and I am more happy and confident in myself and my life than I ever have been before. But, I am still afraid of my friends, and what they will see when they look at me. I am just not what I used to be, and I wonder if they will recognize me.
A stranger is somebody that I can be whoever I want to be. A friendly face in the supermarket aisle, with a polite smile and a nod of the head. A voice on the other end of the phone, answering questions about a conference and how to pay.
But my friends, they will remember the girl that used to stay up with them till 3 or 4 working at the theatre, then go out to eat, sleep for an hour or two, and then do it again. And manage to be happy and laughing throughout it all.
I’m not that girl anymore.
And I’m afraid of what they will see and think, when they realize that I’m not.
So yes, I’m more afraid of my friends, than I am of strangers.
I really need to work on making that not so.