Read about me
February 11, 2015 posted by littlewhitecottage

I’m sorry I can’t come to the group today, I’m just too nervous…

me xIt’s interesting isn’t  it how anxiety can just creep up on you and bite you squarely in the arse. I’ve been coping with my anxiety really well over the last year or so and although I’ve been in lots of new situations that have scared the bejesus out of me I’ve managed to get through them and, dare I say it, even enjoy myself.

But today has got the better of me.

I feel a bit crap.

A bit pants.

I’m supposed to be going to a writing group with other ladies who write.

Don’t get me wrong I want to do this but my head is full of ‘What ifs…?’ and I just can’t make head nor tale of my thinking.

I love to write (can you tell) and I love words and couple that with a group of ladies who also love to do what I do mixed with some tea and chatting I know I would have a wail of a time. But I have to take the baby and although 2 of the ladies have been nothing but encouraging about bringing little Florie, do you know what? I just can’t do it.

I imagine that she’ll cry, fidget, screech (she does that a LOT at the moment unfortunately)and ruin the meeting for the other ladies. I imagine me getting hot and flustered hastily apologising for her crying/fidgeting/screeching. My stress levels will rise and I will have thought this lovely idea to have have been just that; a lovely idea that should have just stayed part of my imagined life and not careered into the real one.

Florie is just the most gorgeous baby you could ever want to have and it’s really no reflection on her wanting to do the normal 10 month old things that she does. She loves an audience, she plays to a crowd (she has 3 brothers so after school time is her performance time and can I just say she’s damn good as an actress) but she also likes to make noise and lots of it and if there’s anything I know about writing, for me anyway, is that I can’t do it when there’s noise around. I’m sat here at the kitchen table -I really do write at the kitchen table – and the radio that’s always on is off. I can hear the hum of the freezer as it cranks up ready to chill itself again, the occasional beep of the dishwasher as it tells me that I really should have emptied it this morning but that’s it. Silence, of a sort.

I’m going to message the lady that invited me though so there’s a huge step forward. In the past I would have just not gone and looked a bit odd as I sheepishly made some excuse a few days later. Now, at least, I can be honest about my feelings due to a course of CBT but also the acceptance of who I am versus who people think I am. I’m not always confident and outgoing. I’m not always bubbly and funny. I am, though, still the one with the mad hair, slightly hippy dress sense and eyes that are green when the camera flash hits them.

Progress.

There’s progress I’ve seen over the years.

So much so now I have already made an alternative plan in which I ask Hubbie to have Little Miss F for the next writing meeting which is the Wednesday after half term from 12.30-2.30. See I’ve thought of specifics. I am going to do this.

By leaving Florie with Hubbie I am cutting out one huge stress and the only stress left would be walking into a house where I only know 1 person to talk about something that is very personal to me. I can do this though. I know I can.

So I’ll just finish writing this and then message the lady who invited me to thank her but to be honest with her and ask if my alternative plan is suitable.

The one good thing about not going, if I can find it, is that this morning I wrote.

…and that really is what the writing group is all about.

1 Comment

  • Thanks for sharing this with such candour Emma. When you feel ready we will welcome you into the group, and we will be the richer for having you write with us. The feelings you express here would be recognised I’m sure by each one of us, but there is a grace and a strength to sharing the joy of writing together, and I hope that you will find a way to join us and write at a different table, just for a couple of hours, Claire

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