Today

Today I tried on the working girl's mindset. It felt good - productive, financially stable, sociable. I watched myself as if I were not myself at all. I watched as I interacted with coworkers, sat in meetings, read countless emails, discussed the strategic plan with my boss. I watched as I cleaned out my desk and got up to go to the bathroom. I heard myself say things I now wish I hadn't said, things about having to move because my medical bills are too much for me, about working through abuse in my past. Why do I say such things? I get nervous and don't know what to say, so I spill my guts to anyone who will listen. Except when I'm on a date, and then I'm tight-lipped about myself, determined to avoid verbal missteps. Today at the gym I made a faux pas I'd like to forget. The exercise required me to reach my knee and press into the instructor's ankle as he stood watching, and I described it as "the one where I have to touch your leg" to the guy. It sounded so awkward, and I can't believe I said it. I don't know what to do with the shame, the pang of guilt at having made a mistake. "Mistakes are a part of life," I tell myself. "It's ok to make mistakes; you're human." Nothing cuts the anxiety. I can't sleep. I'm worried about work. I wonder, having made it through a day, if it's possible to be an introvert in my new role. I foresee I will need to meet with church leaders, schmooze with pastors, just like I had to schmooze with business people before I burned out. I am trying to take on writing projects, but will I be able to write, or will I will be stymied by anxiety? I want to write. I like putting words on a page and seeing a work of wordsmithing art forms as clay forms underneath a potter's fingers. Smooth and silky I wish my writing to be, even though most of the time I think my sentences are puerile, choppy, boring. But I'm going to try because I need that paycheck. I am going to try to be an introvert in an extrovert's world. I am worried about that, and I am worried about trying to pretend my depression doesn't exist. It does exist, and I have struggled so much. I struggle so much, present tense. I claw and fight to live, but the darkness gets to me. Like tonight, anxiety stabs me in the chest. This is what I'm taking medicine for, and the meds aren't doing their job. They're making me constipated, but they're not lifting my mood or numbing the anxiety. Tomorrow is coming soon, and I will be tired in the morning - if I can sleep at all. I shouldn't say that because I'm getting even more anxious thinking about how ugly I'll look tomorrow when I wake up. Just keep writing, I tell myself. Don't stop. Don't stop until the anxiety lets go of your heart, until the tears come and relief sweeps in. So I will keep writing. The more I try to be normal, the more lonely I feel - less lonely than I feel just sitting at home doing nothing, but still, a loneliness that being around people doesn't shake. I wish for a life partner, someone who cares about me, someone I can love. I tried to find someone last Saturday on a blind date. He was the most interesting person I think I've ever shared dinner with, but the conversation was all one-sided. Question after question I asked him, trying to keep the conversation going. When I stopped asking questions, waiting for him to think of a question or two, silence ensued. I looked at my food, took a sip of water, chewed my food, ate too much. Finally, I relented. So what did you think of Maine while you were there? I asked. An open-ended question and another few minutes of talking. Phew. I can eat and listen and be entertained - but I'd rather be known. I'd rather have him show interest in me, ask a follow-up question or two. Where did you go to school? he asked. I went to a small Christian college, I heard myself say. And then I told him how I'd moved back to Tacoma after graduating, then to Philadelphia, then to Mexico, and then to Salem. Hmm, he said in reply. Hmm? Is that it? Is there nothing you found curious or worthy of more information from me? Hmm. OK, back to you. Tell me about ____, I said, thinking quickly. He talked again. I went back to eating, certain that he wasn't my soulmate. I am looking for a guy who puts me at ease, who wants to know me. Is that too hard to ask? I found a guy that showed interest, but he wasn't a Christian - at least, not the type I want. He described himself as Catholic, but he didn't go to church and didn't talk about Jesus the way I'd want my boyfriend and hopefully husband to talk about Him. Though I'm far from faith-filled at this point in my life, I'm searching for someone who is overflowing with thoughtful praise of the God I long for. I am searching for someone like the guy who wasn't a Christian, but with a heart that listens to God and pursues Jesus with hope and fervor. I don't know if I'm making sense. I am trying to get myself to cry so I can sleep, and usually thinking about God brings the tears. Not tonight, I guess. I am so anxious. The burning in my throat and the weight on my chest bears down like an anvil, like a mortar and pestle grinding away. Ouch, it hurts. Maybe I can try to sleep now, but I don't think I will. I'll try, though. But I am worried - to go back to the blind date - that I wrote the guy off too soon. I found out through a mutual acquaintance that he was nervous. I guess he thought I was pretty and didn't know what to say. Should I have given the guy another chance? I am so lonely, I just want someone to think I'm wonderful. I already told him via text I didn't think we were a good fit. He thinks he blew it because he didn't ask me questions. Well, you bet you blew it, dude. You're very smart, you've traveled a lot, you think a lot - I could have liked you, but I felt like you were more interested in having a good time than in learning about me. I want to be known, and it's hard for me to talk about myself around people who make me nervous. So there. We were both nervous. I played the interested date, and you played the talker. I don't like talkers, although I fall into the pattern of making people talk because I figure they're not interested if they don't act interested, if they don't prove to me they are. I can't help it. I try to force myself to talk, but it ends up sounding so awkward, like my stupid comment at the gym tonight. OK, I'm going to try to sleep again. Stay tuned - I might be back.