I Like to Imagine I’m Invisible

Don’t you see me sitting there?

I promised myself, and you, that when I started my blog I would be honest. So today I am going to share a bit of personal neurosis with you. Please feel free to have a laugh at my expense.

I suffer from more than just a little social anxiety disorder. I have many ways of facing it down, and this blog is one way I face it down with a barbed-wire wrapped baseball bat. It is not as easy as I though it would be, with people I’ve never met following and commenting, but I have yet to face a day where any words are unkind, and for that I thank you, readers. I was hoping for more of a “sending it out into the void” feeling when I posted each week, and in fact the first name I came up with for the blog was “Hello, Wall,” but, alas, it was already taken.

I am quite chatty if you ever meet me, but truth be told, I usually wait for people to come and talk to me, rather than approach them. At any gathering of people I do best to find a spot to sit and stick to it, and hope the extroverts find me and start up a conversation. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible and just observe what’s going on around me. The writer in me is filled with endless curiosity. I would like to eavesdrop unnoticed, thank you very much. I won’t judge what your saying, I just want to pay attention to how you say it, and maybe try and figure out why. I cannot guarantee I won’t put it, or you, in a story someday. But my self-editor holds tight reins not just on what I write but also what I say and do. Might keep me from saying something stupid, but I’m certain it keeps me from good, just as much as bad..

On Facebook it keeps me from sharing not much more than photos. In that forum I am the same as at a party, glad to be invited, and happy to eavesdrop, but not sharing much more than a comment here or there. And these are people who have invited me to the party, so to speak.

Not so long ago I signed up for a Twitter account to help promote my blog. That’s what I am supposed to do, right? (Hello, Twitter readers!) But I do not understand Twitter. It makes me very, very nervous. Even the name makes me nervous. Like the endless chattering of a million tiny birds. The strangest was the day I set up the account. I had to pick people to follow. This is, at its essence, a party to which I have invited myself. It may as well have said, “And who would you like to stalk on a daily basis?” It just felt wrong! Now, I know that people are on Twitter for this purpose. But I started by following corporation-types. Following Writer’s Digest, Scrivener, WordPress all felt less intrusive. Then it asked me to pick more, and eventually I did add a couple of people. Not bands, or products, people. People I imagined would have something to say that I wanted to hear. Still felt weird. I wanted to send each of them a message. “Are you sure I’m invited to your party?”

Later when I logged back in I saw the Twitter feed. Whole other language, Twitter is. My ADD brain folded in on itself and shut down for about an hour. To make matters worse, I was looking on my ipad app, where there is no “Help, I’m new and I don’t get it!” button.  I posted nothing until WordPress posted on my behalf regarding my blog. Then, the other day, Jon Foreman posted a picture of a disco ball with a sign behind it that said “No Dancing.” Loved it! Felt like it captured my daily life perfectly. Everything I want to do, all I think about, all that bounces around in my noggin, was that sad and shiny disco ball, and the sign behind it? Blech. Reality. Chores, bills, diapers, dishes.

So I crawled out from under my rock and posted a comment. I immediately wanted to apologize. Delete it. Felt like I had intruded on a conversation. No, really! I am that crazy. I decided to tag Jon in this post, though I don’t imagine he’ll ever read it. Swinging that baseball bat is all. Needs to be done.

I like to keep my crazy small, and subtextual.
I like to keep my crazy small, and subtextual.

I don’t ever want to lose all of my crazy. I don’t want to whittle down my color collection until I’m left with only taupe. So, until I can comment and post without reservation, I’ll keep at it. And for those who have decided to follow me on my crazy train, Welcome!


2 thoughts on “I Like to Imagine I’m Invisible”

  1. You may feel crazy, but think about the overly extroverted who miss out on the opportunities to really observe life and absorb their surroundings. They miss so much! You are constantly absorbing perspectives, colors. You keep that rainbow of crazy!

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