Why Am I Like This?

I had an awkward interaction today, and it got me thinking on the drive home. Why can’t I stop talking sometimes? There are plenty of times that I see someone’s horrified, or bored face, and I can shut my mouth and move on. Other times, though, why not?

I met a new person at the animal shelter where I volunteer. Within minutes of her introducing herself, I verbally vomited all over her. Not only a normal response to her inquiry: why was I volunteering there, but also all the other animal rescues I’ve volunteered at. My whole animal rescue resume. And why stop there? Let’s get into why I moved to this city in the first place. My son was going to college here, he didn’t want to live in the dorms anymore, my husband is in the military was being stationed overseas… The look of anxiety on her face should have been a clue for me to stop talking. Like, 4 minutes ago. I. Kept. Talking. Knowing that she wanted me to stop so she could get back to cleaning. Knowing she was keeping her replies short in hopes that I would catch her drift.

I tried. I really did. My head conversation went like this, “Let’s stop talking so she can get back to cleaning. Look at her face. She’s giving me polite cues. Now she’s turning her head back and looking toward her cart full of dirty dishes. She has things to do, just stop talking now. No really. Just. Stop. Talking. Now. Stop it! She’s being very nice about this, but stop. This is ridiculous, stop. She has actually turned her body away from us, that’s a huge clue, stop it! Be respectful! She doesn’t care why we live here! She didn’t even ask! OMG. You’re insane. I don’t even know what to do with you at this point. *Would you just stop fucking talking to her so she can go about her day*?!!”

Finally, after all of her body language clues that a ladybug could read, she politely told me she was going to get back to cleaning. Yes! Of course! That’s what we’re here to do! Duh. (Inner dialog.) To her, “Oh ya, great!” in my high pitched I-don’t-know-how-else-to-respond voice.

Well, I’m never talking to anyone again. (My normal response when I’m upset with myself for over sharing, over talking, over extending my welcome, over-me-ing.) I had about two thirds of my shift left at this point, and a lot of work to do, so I went about it quietly. Admonishing myself part of the time. Writing this post part of the time. Thinking, great, I’ll just get back into blogging and write all about this. I mean, most people are this awkward, right? People like to hear about other folks making mistakes and being weird. Most of the blogs and artists I follow are similar to me. It’s nice to know we’re not alone. That others in the world struggle with social interactions just as much as we do.

While I spend the rest of my two hour shift quietly cleaning cat litter boxes and kennels, folding laundry, trying to figure out where things go, making sure everything is properly put away and I look like I know what I’m doing, my brain is full of ideas about writing again. If funny episodes like this are worth it to me to write down, that’s good. It’s been a long time since I felt inspired to write about much of anything. Grief, depression, and anxiety can steal creativity away from a person as much as they can propel people toward it.

A little later in my shift as I was bent over a typical mop basin where we hand wash the larger bulkier items, my new co-volunteer friend came and asked me if I was alright. I had been pretty quiet. I said, “Oh yes, thank you. I get busy thinking and get quiet sometimes.” Not untrue. Especially when I’m doing chores. I think about all things I’m “Going To Do”. Like:

organize my room
clear off the table
catch up on homework
start a blog
learn how to crochet
stop watching so much tv
write to my congress-people
give my dog a bath
stop shopping on Amazon for good

Then I think of all the excuses why I don’t do these things, or can’t. Or… Won’t. Which is a whole other episode for a different day.

The main reason I go quiet, though, is embarrassment. I’m embarrassed that I just talked your ear off without stopping, without taking normal conversational body cues, until I had to be verbally told that you had something else to do besides stand there and listen to me, so now I’m going to go quiet because I have no idea what else to do. My brain is too scared that if I open my mouth again, more diarrhea will come out. My body has taken over now and we are just in automatic mode. I’m moving, doing the motions that I know how to do, until it’s time to go. Hoping I don’t make any more mistakes. I just want people to like me so badly that I will go to extremes to make myself small and stay out of the way if I feel that is what the situation calls for. After I make a mistake, that’s what my body’s response is. Let’s get small, quiet, try not to be noticed, and do all the right things so that when I’m gone people only think, “That person did a good job.” And yes, I’m fully aware this is a trauma response. And yes, I know exactly where it comes from. I’ve been in therapy for a long time, including IOP treatment (of which I’ll do an anniversary post next week).

The number of times per day that I tell myself to “just stop” must be big. I’ve never counted, but I get onto myself a lot. The saying, “we are our own worst critics” is an understatement for me. I’m my own punching bag. Something I tell myself often is, “Just stop. No one wants to hear you.” Which is part of why I stopped writing for so long. And yes, that voice comes from a specific place/person that I’ve been working hard to remove from my head. Therapy, y’all! I’ve tried turning that annoyed sounding “just stop” into a Taylor Swift “Like can you Just Stop? You need to Just Not (be hard on yourself)”. (Just had to pause to watch the video because it makes me smile and makes me happy and bless all the LGBTQ+ and drag queens out there who are feeling threatened right now!)

Working on turning these voices around has been one of the biggest battles I’ve fought. An episode for another day, but they are deeply rooted and harsh. The one that tells me to Just Stop, as in, no one cares, no one is listening, has been hard to beat. But I did blog for many years, and people did read it, and people were listening. When I stopped blogging, people did ask if I would start again. Also, when I’m talking most of the time people do listen and people do care. I put “communication skills” as one of my strengths on my resume. I can speak normally in every day situations.

However, I have a background of trauma, and anxiety disorder. I have social anxiety that I worked hard to overcome. There are still days I can’t leave the house. It doesn’t all go away because I wish it to. With the “disorder” or whatever label we give to the weirdness within us, there’s daily work that has to be done. There’s slippage. That feeling of one step forward and two steps back is always there. I get tongue tied, forget words completely, take two days to write a pretty simple blog post. Most days I make fun of myself and move on. Some days I get stuck. Some days I end up in bed. And I think, omg, just stop.