Leftovers

For those of you who know me, you may be surprised that this entry is not about food. However, I am sure some food posts will appear on this blog eventually.

Let me just say that for every entry I post online, I usually have about 5 that never see the light of day. This is one of those posts that finally made the cut. But that's still not why I titled it Leftovers.

I know I have written a lot about my issues with social anxiety in the past. I don't feel the need to refer to it too much any more because it is in the past. I feel like it is conquered. It is now part of the history of me, not the present, and definitely not the future.

Having said all that, I realize that there are some leftovers from my past that still show up occasionally. (See, that's where the title comes from ;)  )

I'm sure we all have those little hangers-on from our past, whether we know it or not. The best way I know how to describe it is to tell you about my first dog, Puddles. I was just shy of 3 years old when Puddles passed away but I remember him. He was a rescued dog. His previous owners were not the best, and from my understanding, their kids were quite mean to him. I remember he always ran away from me. I could never pet him. He wouldn't let me. Whenever I raised my hand he instinctively dropped his head and backed away. Even though he was free of his abusive past, his habits carried on in his new life. And in some ways that's me too. My past is my past but I still carry a few of those previous habits (or "feelings") with me in my new life. At least I am aware of them, so I can make the effort to change them.

(Refresher for everyone who doesn't know what I went through as a kid. I suffered from Social Anxiety Phobia. The best way to describe it is a fear of always being judged and scrutinized, and ultimately rejected.  My method of survival was to try and not be noticed. If I could hide in the background no one would focus on me. If I didn't make friends or talk to strangers I couldn't be rejected. That was my life for too long. That is not my life now. The following are some of the leftovers from my past.)

Dancing: I can't even describe how terrified I am of dancing. I know it doesn't make sense. I may as well be scared of balloons. No offence to sufferers of Globophobia. My entire life I hid from dancing and dances. It just seemed too noticeable. I was terrified of being in the spot light (and thus be judged and rejected). However, even to this day, even if I am around friends and family, people who would never judge or reject me, I get this overwhelming sense of dread if I think I may have to do anything dance related. Even seeing other people dance makes me uncomfortable. It's a very Pavlovian reaction. I am going to work on overcoming this fear, unfortunately. I'm pretty sure I can't avoid dancing for the rest of my life.

Clapping or doing actions to a song: Those are just cousins of dancing. They may as well be the same thing. Hand dancing. Here's a tiny confession. I was extremely uncomfortable during VBS last summer during the open session in the morning because all the songs had actions. As a leader I was expected to do them. I forced myself. It was horrible. And yet nothing bad came of it. Everything that I associate with "dancing" like judgement and rejection did not happen. Maybe it was a good thing? Either way, I felt extremely exposed and vulnerable during those 5 minutes.

Touching: I have a very big personal bubble. You know those touchy-feely people that have no personal space? They terrify me. I know, weird. I think it is because touching connotates a level of intimacy and intimacy was something I had instinctively avoided as a part of my defense mechanism. (Side note: Dancing involves touching. Double Whammy!) My immediate reaction to touching, almost like a reflex action, is to pull away or recoil. That has created some very awkward situations. Ha ha. Oh could I tell stories. But I won't. Even to this day I associate touching with something awkward and uncomfortable and I react accordingly. I know in my head there's nothing wrong with it but I still go through a weird series of "feelings" when I touch someone or am touched by someone. I imagine this is similar to people who have been abused in the past. I'm ok with hand shakes, and have been working my way through hugging over the last few years. It's a slow process. A prolonged hand on my shoulder sends shivers down my spine. I know that can't be normal. I'm working on it. As a result of my personal space issues I associate touching with deep levels of intimacy. I don't know how to explain that rationally, but that's the thing with all these leftovers. They aren't rational. To me, a hand shake is just a hand shake, but a hug carries a lot more meaning to it than just a hug. A kiss, even a tiny peck on the cheek (I'm looking at you, my French relativies) is way too intimate to just casually throw away. And back rubs or massages are practically like sex. I'm not saying that's normal. That's just the way it is. I notice at C&C people touch each other a lot. I am very aware of it. It freaks me out just a little bit. When the back rubs start flying I avert my eyes. If you ever see me touching anyone, they must be very special to me or it would not be happening.

Why am I sharing this? Well, I think secrets are like little self-imposed prisons. They keep us captive, all the while we are holding the key to our own freedom. When you share the secret, you've opened the cell. And now those little secrets can't hold me captive any more.

I will end this post like many other posts, with a request that you hug me next time we meet. Although, be warned, if you hug a little too long, I just may faint.