My name is Taya! Nice to meet you guys. That’s what I wish I would have been able to get out my mouth. But, I couldn’t. I’m the socially awkward one that brought the banana pudding. Glad everyone enjoyed it. I can’t take all the credit though; my mother is the best baketress that I know and I’m just her sous chef. I was the one that came in and kinda spoke to everyone with a general room greeting. I’m not usually so weirded out in casual, social settings. Socially awkward is not a title that anyone would give to me, yet last Sunday, I was just that.
I had begun to build anxiety over this gathering and I didn’t really understand why. I was going to the home of my oldest friend. No, really, I mean that. We’ve been friends since we were about 7 years old. Our parents were besties and by default, we were thrown together, whether we liked it or not. Almost every Friday and Saturday night for YEARS. There were times that we were ok with it and times that we drove one another crazy. Since I’m a tad bit older, a fact that he likes to rub in my face, I often took great pleasure in bossing him around. Anyway, we lost touch after our college years and finally reconnected a couple of years ago thanks to the book of faces. Although I didn’t know anyone else that would be at the cookout, I decided to attend. I invited a girlfriend along and prepared to have a great time.
I didn’t.
This is no indication of his hosting skills – the brother has got it going ON! Nice home, whole crabs, ribs, shrimp kabobs, great music, the NBA playoffs, open bar, etc. My bad experience was totally of my own making. As I thought about it a bit prior to the event, I realized that this would be the first time I was surrounded by people who didn’t “know” me. The first time that I wouldn’t have the scarlet “w” on my forehead. I’d be in a room surrounded by people who would not realize that I was floating around without a partner. I still take comfort in wearing my wedding rings. I spin them mindlessly throughout the day, gazing at them when a happy memory floats across my mind and tearfully turning away from them when a wave of pain surfaces. The people that I encounter in my normal day to day “know” my story. I don’t have to say or explain anything. People tend to tiptoe around conversations that might make me uncomfortable or require me to directly mention my loss. But, inevitably at a bbq or other social gathering, there will be small talk and questions. Where are you from? What do you do? How do you know the host? Are you married? Is your husband here too? **sigh**
Learning to answer that question is a hard, hard thing. I’m not good at it. I don’t WANT to be good at it but I must work on it. Every time some variation of, “Are you married, what does your husband do, where is LittleTDJ’s dad” crops up into a conversation, I freeze and fumble the ball. I make seemingly routine and innocent encounters very uncomfortable for all parties involved. And that’s on a small scale. This cookout would be big.
It didn’t help that during my drive to the DC suburbs, a Prince George’s County ambulance merged onto the highway just in front of me. ***deep sigh*** The sight and sound of ambulances is a very big emotional trigger for me, especially Prince George’s County ambulances. My mind still wanders daily to the day my husband passed away but I don’t relive each moment in the same detail that I once did. Now, things play out more like snapshots in a scrapbook. The moments are frozen in my brain and there isn’t a second that I will ever forget about that day, but my mind has finally taken a little pity on my heart and stopped making each nanosecond repeat. However, when I see an ambulance, I kinda lose it. I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles were white. I had to put on my flashers and make my way to the shoulder of the highway. I could NOT ride behind that ambulance as it traveled to potentially change the trajectory of someone’s life for the best or for the worst. I composed myself after sipping some water and continued on to the cookout. But at that point, my mood was negatively impacted. I wasn’t in a bad mood, I simply wasn’t in a “hey, let’s meet some strangers and have a great time” mood.
I arrived, smiled, gave a general greeting to the mass of people, found the host for a hug and got a plate of food. After finding a seat, I barely moved for the remainder of the evening. Definitely NOT my normal personality. After my girlfriends arrived, I shared a laugh or two with them, made sure they met the host and really didn’t do much else. I was stuck in my own mental chains and I couldn’t enjoy the bbq like I wanted to.
So, to my friend JB and his seemingly awesome friends, my apologies for presenting as an anti-social, quiet, awkward, uptight chick in the corner. I hope that I get to meet everyone again under better personal circumstances and I promise that you will all love me. Or not.
Oh Friend. Baby steps. At least you got out there and that’s a start. *hugs*
So sorry for your uncomfortable experience Tay-Tay…. I hope and pray that this too, shall pass.
Oh mama. It’ll take time. Stupid triggers. You’ll shine even better the next time and they’ll love you just as much as I do.
Here’s what you are doing – you are helping your readers understand that not everything is as it seems and that we all can use a little grace. You’re probably being much harder on yourself than anyone else is, but I gather this is par for the course. And I’m sure at the next social event, you won’t feel so uncomfortable.
Thanks for sharing.
Are you seeing a psychologist? It sounds like the ambulance is triggering anxiety attacks and maybe a psychologist can give you some coping mechanisms when it’s setting in.
About the social situation- I think you should give yourself time. You’ve been through something that a lot of us cannot fathom and I think you are handling it beautifully. Don’t be too hard on yourself, I don’t know who would be successful handling this at their first doing.
*sending you hugs*
Taya, Every time I read your blog posts, I relive another aspect of my own experiences of being a widow. I was “right there with you” at that barbecue and knew exactly how you felt. This is my 15th year, and I still don’t handle these types of social situations well. I wore my wedding ring for at least 6 years. Now I put them on over the holidays or when I’m going through certain situations that are more than the normal day-to-day stress. I can’t explain it to anyone, but it brings me comfort — and for some reason, I often feel the need to explain why I’m doing this to people.
The words, “My late husband” are now 2nd nature for me…..for many years, without the “late” adjective, people assumed that he was still alive, and then I had to correct this assumption, which was more difficult and awkward for me and them. What hasn’t changed is the constant feedback that I receive from others about how I “light up” whenever I talk about him.
You have a gift. With every post, you help others who are widows know that someone else understands the reality of being a widow in our very “couple’s oriented society,” and you help those who aren’t better understand this reality – which, in the blink of an eye, could become theirs too. It doesn’t matter what our age, race/ethnicity or socio-economic circumstances are (although these things may compound the experience of being a widow), there are similarities that we all share. I have my triggers too, although they are different from yours, and in 15 years, they are still alive and well.
I don’t believe that this has been very well researched, and/or written about.. IMy sense is that men and women react very differently in this situation. There is a story to be told here and I encourage you to think about writing a book. I would gladly be your first interview!
Baby steps my friend! Remember, one day at a time.
It’s all good…. take you time and go within… Let go and relax. You were born perfect with all your imperfections as we all are..:0)
They WILL love you. Promise.