Being Real, or Self-Indulgent Navel Gazing?

When Patrick was about 12 weeks old, I hit a rough patch of the Baby Blues. I started worrying that Patrick would never love me. Perhaps he would like me, or appreciate being raised by me, but he wouldn't love me. My brain knew it was a ridiculous notion. But it still felt real.

For several days, I kept quiet. I was too embarrassed. But these thoughts continued to eat away at my gut. One night I wrote an email to my college group of girlfriend, all parents themselves. I told them I was struggling. I sent it before I had the chance to think about it too much.

Even before I heard back from my friends, my heart felt lighter by the telling. Of course, the emotional support from my friends and husband was amazing. But healing began with the courage to talk.

Over the past couple of weeks, I've found myself struggling again. Baby blues? Long standing anxiety? Does it matter? Several nights ago I finally opened up to Kevin. I mentioned it to another close friend at the park the next day.

So hey! Might as well go big, right?

I've been feeling very insecure about the state of my friendships. I worry they only hang out with me out of habit. I've been scared they don't enjoy me or my children anymore. I find myself thinking they don't really like me much, and any potential new friend already has their plate full and wouldn't want me on it.

I told Kevin, I know this isn't real. I've been blessed with wonderful friendships. These fears aren't coming from anybody else's behavior. But it feels so real that I start interpreting every little thing from this false lens. And if you're looking to make something true, you usually can.

The anxiety is a tight hole in my chest. It makes me cranky and irritable. I'm short tempered with people I love. I can't enjoy my friends when they are around. I attended a church meeting where we showered each other with praise and love. I couldn't enjoy the lovely comments others made because I only read the (non-existent) criticism between the lines. And I was so sad that I had ruined it for myself because of this nutty, pervasive anxiety.

It doesn't help that this anxiety is an old one. I remember feeling like this in grade school. I've always worried about making friends, keeping friends. In high school I had friends, but no tight group, the kind who hung out on weekends and double dated to the prom.

An old casual high school friend caught up with me in the blog world (hi Kim!) and commented to some jest I'd made about my high school self that she remembered me having many good friends. It got me thinking that maybe I could have had more friends in high school if I'd been more open to others or more willing to make the first step. How many other kids were like me, wishing for more connection but terribly afraid of the rejection? How many came across as snobbish when we were really just shy?

So here I am, an adult with the mentality of a 12 year old when it comes to making friends. Throw in some post partum hormones, a toddler in a challenging phase :) and the natural change of friendships as our kids of all ages enter school. And I am left feeling scared and lonely. It's isolating. Nobody else would understand, everybody else has their act totally together and is filled with confidence.

Right? :)

I don't say this to have everybody leave comments blowing sunshine at me and assuring me of my overall desirability as a girlfriend. With the telling, I want to lighten my heart. I want to share the darker pieces of myself, and I hope it helps somebody else feel a little less alone with what pains them.

Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.
Matthew 11:29-30