Shyness and A Life Worth Living

It's amazing what can happen in a few months. Without journaling I fear it might disappear with everything else in my brain, in the swirling mass of sunflowers and thunderstorms.

First, I'd like to say that my number one, Will, is all done with kindergarten. I couldn't be more happy with his progress, my smarty pants. His teacher, Mrs. Gustowski, worked unbelievably hard with the 20 students. She ended up being a friend, and someone I don't think I could ever replace in Will's life, or mine. We promised to get together in the summer for some girl time. The only problem is that I have to stay in town long enough to remember that San Antonio is my heart and my home and actually pick up the phone and call these valuable people in my life.

I have to admit I'm not a phone talker. Yes, this surprises everyone because I try really hard to keep conversations going. Sometimes I seem down right nosy, but my friends' lives are important to me. It's funny to think that we live our lives so independently; one of my friend's husband can break his arm on a skateboard, while another is moving to Utah, another to Missouri, and another to Frisco and I'm just at my parents sitting in the pool with my children, wasting the summer away, building memories and reflecting on how lucky I am: to have the parents I do, the husband I love, and the children, who seem to bring more to my life than I can give them in a lifetime of parenting, and friends who bring me happiness, laughter, and darn good perspective.

I'd like to tell you a story about a woman who was so shy as a child she couldn't break free from her mother's legs much less raise her hand in school. She would stutter and stammer reading out loud in front of the class, although she would read anything she could get her hands on. Words were her secrets treasures, ideas she kept to herself, but she was desperately lonely, longing not to be afraid.

In middle school, the internal war raged on, but this time she took into was determined to end this conflict. She wanted to break herself from the chains of silence and self-consciousness. She plotted and planned what to say, made lists about things to talk about, wrote in a journal with side notes about funny things she saw on Saturday Night Live or in Bop magazine. Everyday she worked at it so hard, she would go to bed exhausted (because it was so hard to be something that you aren't) but with a pencil and paper on the nightstand just in case she thought of something else to say.

Now, she might still over-apologize for talking about random things and bouncing from one subject to another in fear of losing someone's interest. She might still be apprehensive when starting a conversation, but now that fear and anxiety sits in the back of her throat while the words spill out. With family and friends who accept her as she is, words are still treasures and conversations are recorded as victories in the battle. Self consciousness slides into the realization that we all are self conscious, that if something stupid comes out of our mouths it is soon forgotten, that once something leaves our vocal cords it doesn't linger forever imprisoned in someone else's mind.

Now, I have to tell you I'd forgotten how anxious I am about talking on the phone, meeting someone new, have any attention put on me, and how hard I work (sometimes more than others) to be the outgoing cheerleader.

My lingering shyness became ever present earlier this month when my best friend from college got married. It was a pretty big wedding and I knew two people in the crowd aside from the bride, groom, and bride's family. And it really doesn't count when those two people are your sister and her husband!

No problems at the ceremony, who cares if I sobbed loudly a few times, who cares if I laughed with no one else the when the priest said something funny, who cared if I reached behind me to grab the bride's mother's hand when it was poiniant. It was beautiful and all I could concentrate on is the love this couple exudes, the exciting future that lays in their hands, the fact that they are about to be Mr. And Mrs., take the good with the bad and make a wonderful life.

Then the reception hits and the wedding party walks in to Justin Timberlake's Sexy Back. Now this reception is at one of the nicest places you can go in Dallas but fear and anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks when the bride had to go from table to table, greet, mix and mingle. She did it so easily and confidently, and all this time I thought she was just like me. I shuddered at the thought that I could have easily been her if Dave and I didn't rush to the JP. But then somehow I ended up on the dance floor with my best friend, the beautiful and confident bride and we were jetted back to all the late nights in college were we were queens of the dance floor and the South Dallas drop.

Honestly, I can still be a hermit and the idea of getting out of my shell can transcend me into a panic attack, but once I'm there , not thinking about living but actually doing it, I realize that I have ONE chance in this life to have a good time with people who come and go and I better just kept on saying Hi to everyone I meet and enjoy the party. It can only last so long.