I’m going to do this post a little backward. Normally, I write and then I choose a picture, but today I have nothing much to say. So, I chose the picture above and the post that follows is what looking at this picture stirred in me…
All dressed up and nowhere to go.
When I was little, I never wanted to have a party and if I did, I always freaked out once the invitations were sent because I was so nervous no one would show up.
Oh, who am I kidding, I still do that.
I’ve never been stood up. I don’t have some tragic prom night abandonment tale. I was not left at the alter, but I still have angst about invitations. I’m sure on some level this means I’m insecure, but I really hate the sound of that, it seems so weak. I’m not insecure, I like me, I’m just not always willing to find out if others do.
Maybe I live in my head, telling myself others are fine with me and sending out invitations is like taking an actual survey. Forget the fact that people don’t show up to things for any number or reasons, right? I mean what kind of odd narcissist am I, that a rejection or a no show on an invitation is a reflection of a person’s feelings toward me? That’s ridiculous.
You know what I think it is? I view myself as an outsider looking in. I have never felt part of the group, whatever the group was at the time, and therefore on some level I have never felt that I belong. Parties are for groups, people with things in common.
So insecure outsider, is that the conclusion here? Eh, maybe. At least I’m good at faking it. No one would ever know.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Peek Under the Covers.