Where’s my Invite?
Today is blog day. Usually, I wake up on blog day with a theme or issue that pretty much demands to be written. Today is no different. Except this one today is embarrassing for me.
I want to talk about my own worst character trait. I feel compelled to. I’d like to mature out of the behavior, but it’s so deeply hardwired all I can do is sheepishly admit it out loud.
Here goes; I HATE to be left out of anything. ANYTHING. Even if it’s something I don’t want to be a part of; A church picnic for example. Or a Mary Kay event (no offense, Anyone). My blood will boil, and my poor little feelings will be all throbbing and crampy.
If a friend mentions an event in front of me that I am not invited to it’s the damned end of the world. I mean, it is bad manners to flaunt a get together in front of someone who isn’t invited, but still.
Then, it takes me forever to get over being mad. The whole thing that makes it ridiculous is that I am an introvert of the highest order. Put me in front of a Yoga class and I will rock and roll, share my deepest and darkest, and mix up some heavy magic. Then when it’s done, I want to go straight home and watch Netflix, and hang with my kids. If I am at a party, I am ALWAYS the first one to go home. Exit, stage right. Unless it’s just you and me, then I am fine.
If I manage to finagle an invitation out of you, then I’ll realize I never wanted to go in the first place, and I will cancel.
If you leave me out, I will be mad at you, because in that regard I am still eleven in my gnarly little heart.
Now don’t read this and start inviting me to things, because I don’t really want to go. But hopefully bringing my ugly stuff into the light will help it disappear, like a little wart. And maybe if it doesn’t go away at least it might be less angry, because really, it only affects me. Me. At home. In my chair. Where I wanted to be in the first place.