Based on which articles I have loved and which ones have been viewed the most, I’ve curated my best six articles. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I have enjoyed writing them!
A friend is 40 minutes late for our coffee date but I give him a hug and act as if he is on time. A colleague doesn’t show up for a meeting we’ve had planned for a long time, but I shrug it off and reschedule. The internet install guy drags out a simple procedure that should take 20 minutes so that it takes over 3 hours, but I smile, make polite conversation and laugh at his jokes.
I have gotten good at acting as if everything is fine. I have gotten good at hiding my anger. I have gotten good at avoiding conflict at all costs.
Photo credit: Richard Jansen
I sat on my bed. Could I really do this? Was I really qualified? I didn’t have the proper credentials. Who did I think I was?
What were people going to think of me? My friends were probably going to lose respect for me. What a stupid idea.
My chest and throat felt tight. My breath was shallow. I lay back and covered my eyes. What could I do?
I was starting to think something was seriously wrong. I was tired. So tired, that some days at work I would go home early and straight to bed at 4 pm.
I started trying different solutions – I stopped drinking coffee, started drinking green smoothies every day, and I was planning to get my thyroid levels tested. But nothing worked.
Last month I spent a week on the North channel of Lake Huron with 85 family members and old friends. By day three, I wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out. I’ve gotten more introverted as I’ve gotten older. I couldn’t deal with the number of social interactions.
I was upset. This was suppose to be my vacation. This was suppose to be relaxing and reinvigorating. I felt drained and felt like it was the extroverts fault. Why were they subjecting me to this? I felt like they were predators that pounced when I wasn’t expecting it. I felt like they were vampires that sucked me dry. I felt brittle, withered, helpless.
I tell my sister that she should tell her story, write it out and then post it on her Facebook wall and yet I’m terrified to tell mine.
I don’t want to tell anyone. I want to keep it quiet, close to my heart. I want to pretend that I don’t make mistakes, that I always acknowledge my privilege, that I’m perfect. I want silence.
My boyfriend of 4.5 months recently broke up with me. And so it’s been a process of untangling our lives and letting go.
After a couple of weeks of not talking to him and crying a lot, the crying has stopped and I’ve slipped back into talking, texting with him.