No wonder I hate being social

Wow. What a week this has been!

I had a work training that I had been dreading for months. I knew it was coming and I knew I couldn't get out of it like I normally would, without the threat of losing my job.

I knew it had the potential of being hideously scary but I also knew I could be talking myself up about something that never would be. My co-workers would also be attending, and I feel comfortable with them, so I had to block out any thoughts of how awful it could be and just imagine it being fine.

It has been a while since I've made myself go to something that made me uncomfortable, besides every Sunday at church *wink!, so I blazed forward thinking maybe this time it won't be that bad.

From this week's experience, I learned 4 things:
1. Whoever invented get-to-know-you games needs to be slapped really hard.
2. Whoever thinks adults find it fun to play get-to-know-you-games, needs to be slapped really hard.
3. You can get through something if necessary, even if you think you're close to death.
4. Lets be real - if you can get out of it without negative consequences, GET OUT OF IT!

I'll give you one guess as to how the training went.
No, worse than that. ha!

The room was filled with about 60 people, seated in rows. Thank my lucky stars it wasn't a large circle, or they may have needed to start CPR.

My sensors were up, sizing the place up. It seemed relatively safe. It looked like we could sit in our seats and listen to the lecture. I even socialized with a few people to try and ease in to my surroundings. Hey, I'd actually made it to the training! Call me confident!

Flash forward to the moment it all went south.

The presenters thought it would be fun for us, as adult professionals, to play get-to-know-you-games. (See #2 above)
Need I say more?

Oh but why stop at just one? Or two? Or three? How about an hour of torturous get-to-know-you-games that involved charade-like behavior, hand-to-hand-contact, sharing feelings with strangers, all the while trying to act normal when you're throat is closing up, your face is turning red, and your mind is racing about how you know you can't get out of there but wonder how you'll survive as you feel like you're going to pass out and die?

Are. You. Kidding. Me?!
My eyes get wide and I get all tied up inside just thinking about it.
SLAP THEM!! HARD!!!

I only went to the bathroom once, you'll be proud to know, but it was timed just right.
"Now I'd like you to find a group of 5..."
Um, no. Bathroom time!

I would have stayed in my stall forever if I could, but then maybe someone would have thought I had diarrhea or something. Eeew. Yes, I said it.

So the rest of the awkwardly, uncomfortable, torturous time? I held my water bottle, squeezed the round lid til I made it oval, and ate tic tacs like it was my job. A minty distraction, of sorts. I had to be on my guard. I had no idea when they were going to pull another fast one on me. Another game? Another share-fest? Calling me out of the audience? I couldn't chance it. I was going to eat 100 tic tacs if that's what it took to last the rest of the meeting.

And I survived.
A little worse for wear, but I made it. I'll keep my job. I can check it off my list for at least 6 months.

I shrieked in the car on the way home, laughing and screaming about the ridiculousness of it all. It took me a few hours to come down from the ledge and process the psychotic mess I had just been through. Holy crap. That did not just happen.

So in summary, I cry out to my dear old enemy Social Situations:

"It's been a while, but I can't say it was good to see you again. I was reminded why I hate you. Why I prefer to stay away. Why I find any and every excuse not to see you. Why I feel so much safer staying at home. Sometimes I find the will to get through, only because I know I need to, or have to, but not because I enjoy it.

Other times you're at your worst, leaving me less than I was when I came. And although I eventually recover, the scars are lasting reminders. I won't be fooled. You can disguise yourself any way you'd like to, but I know you're still the same.

I will still avoid you as much as possible, but I know at some point I'll have to see you again, face-to-face. So until the a day I don't have to fear you anymore, I'll arm myself with water and tic tacs. Peace out.