Same here, too, Tom. I have almost always hated parties (except Nanita's, which are, as she noted, low key and socially easy and comfy), and at some point I just decided that just going in the door counted. Didn't matter if I spent the entire time browsing the host's bookshelves or playing with their dog in the kitchen or bailed after 90 seconds due to anxiety (all three of which I've done, multiple times)--if I managed to walk in the front door instead of panicking and fleeing before my hand even touched the knob (which I have also done multiple times), that was a worthy achievement all on its own.
ION, Matilda is in her room crying angrily, David is out on walkabout and I am exiled to the living room couch. Why? Earlier today I went with her to buy some clothes from a neighborhood consignment shop, and now her life is destroyed and we destroyed it. She is nailing the teen angst thing, and she's still twelve for another three weeks.
Tom, I wouldn't have been able to show up at that party unless someone I knew was actually going with me.
JZ, oh dear. Clothes shopping at that age with parents is so fraught. I remember my mother giving up at some point and just sending me to the mall with my friends and the money.
To be clear, she got one of the two items she decided on, all on her own, without my intervention (not enough cash to cover both).
I suggested we put one item of which she already had a few at home back and keep the one of which she had almost none, she acceded, all seemed well, and then the second we were out the door she angrily informed me that the ONLY thing that item goes with is the other item, the one we put back, and she can't wear it with anything else she owns and without the other item there was NO REASON to get it at all.
(Spoiler alert: The completely useless, pointless item that cannot possibly be made to go with any other item of clothing is a black shirt.)
The whole way home she stalked at least a half block ahead of me, seething at every corner until I caught up with her and we could cross the street together, and then bolted as soon as we were across so that she could put a half block between us again. She's been in her room ever since. David attempted to remonstrate with her and she exploded and now he's out staggering with shellshock and I'm huddled in here with the guinea pigs.
Silently apologizes once again to my mother for all the teenage angst she endured. 4 of us, 3 girls and 1 boy were teenagers at the same time. She was truly a saint. {{parental units}}
And yet in the middle of her rage she wouldn't cross the street alone, but waited for me every single time. Horrifiadorable.
Sorry, but that really is adorable. I am dreading ltc's teenage years. She is already the most stubborn child that I have ever met, and sadly, I know where she gets it from.
Tom, I'm sorry you had anxiety because that's painful.
But you didn't fail at anything. You weren't having fun, so you left. That's a perfectly logical response to a lack of fun and it's good self-care.
I'm only seeing success here, man.
Going to the party was a good choice - and by definition was you being social. It turned out to be
a drag so you changed plans. The most social people you'll ever know do just that.
All of what Trudy said. You went to the party, you didn't have fun, so you left.
I finished the genealogy course with an A-. I'll get a certificate!
