so thank youpublished: 2018-01-22
I wander the corridors. There was a presentation, there are drinks. I see faces, people I know, people I’ve worked with, engaged with. They flash forced smiles that say: please don’t talk to me right now, please don’t expect me to be friendly, please know that I am not planning to include you in this conversation with him or with her. And so I keep moving. I am lost in my smiles, my willingness to share, my desire to … just …
I leave the place, disheartened. I am angry at myself. I decide to call someone I am working with for reassurance. I pack it into a talk about this and that. Then I ask him straight out how he views me and add a few self-depreciative side notes.
My honesty is a trap, it is my anxiety’s costume at the fancy dress party we call life.
Suddenly he asks: what can I do? What can I do to help you if I notice that you’re struggling?
I find myself incapable of simply saying: thank you, and leaving it at that. I tell him all sorts of things he could do and say. But here’s the real answer: Just be safe, that’s all. That’s my desire. For the world I dwell in to be safe.
And so: thank you.