The visiting teaching / ministering bamboozle

This blog isn't a place to complain about Mormons, because I am one, and I'm not here to speak badly of our church or its members. Truly. Having social anxiety is hard, but having it as a member of the LDS church is even harder because the social piece is so big. This blog is a place I share my feelings from time to time, about how hard it is to have social anxiety and how I try to navigate this life within our church.

A reader commented in an older post about how badly it feels to "be someone's project". I whole-heartedly agree and I would add, "nothing feels as bad as insincerity." You either like me or you don't. You either really want to visit me or you don't. I've always had a hard time with visiting teaching because it all feels like an obligation instead of a sincere gesture.

2/14/19 - I edited this post because - I'll tell you why as you read...

My original post talked about how I felt like I'd been mislead into having my visiting teacher come over (now called ministering sister), by using my soft spot for her little daughter. Kind of a bait and switch, if you will.

But I have to tell you, what I wrote really bothered me. For a long time. Because I felt like my negativity was coming from such a judgmental place that it wasn't actually helpful or constructive, it was more destructive than anything else.

After reading my post over, not only did I realize just how crazy paranoid I sounded, like every woman with relief society callings was out to get me, but I also realized I was looking at someone from a very negative place and not giving them the grace that everyone should be given.

Yes, this person came over and maybe used her daughter to bridge the gap with me, but why couldn't I just take it at face value instead of turning it into some crazy story of manipulation and intrigue?

I think I was really just bamboozling myself.

Social Anxiety can make us look at things in a very paranoid way. When I feel insecure, in a mad dash to protect myself, I instinctively lash out. I realized all the anger and paranoia I was feeling toward this poor woman, was just a coping mechanism - a way to protect my own insecurities.

It took me 5 months to see this clearly. If you read the previous post, I apologize. You got a firehose of my own insecurities and paranoia.

If you're reading this today, I hope you can see that the way we react to things is because of our own feelings and insecurities and much less about other people.

I just need to live on the moon

I realize I haven't written about my social anxiety in ages (yes, I still have it) but yesterday at church pushed me over the edge and the "horrors" of yesterday have been swirling around in my head.
I need to get them out.

All the changes our church has been making lately are pushing me further and further into a corner. What used to be more of a passive experience, i.e. come to church and participate if you want to while the teachers teach, has become a much scarier place for hiders like me. Now everything is a discussion. Everything is a council. We have more small group teacher trainings. More participation. Different room layouts to promote conversation rather than passive participation. It's zeroing in on the one instead of letting us bleed into the background. I don't like it. It makes me really uncomfortable (as if I wasn't already).

I think often, if it weren't for my calling in primary, and my husband, it would be too easy for me to opt out on Sundays because of the social angst I feel every time I'm there. I finally told my mom the other day that I really don't like going to church and that I go because I know it's the right thing, instead of something I really enjoy. I was surprised that she wasn't shocked, but she doesn't really understand the whys.  I've never told her about my social anxiety because I would feel way too judged. She's a harsh critic.

I often wonder though, as I see my husband actually smiling during church, how it would feel if being afraid of all the people wasn't part of the equation? Would it be uplifting? Would it be something I looked forward to instead of dreading?

Ok, so back to yesterday. We found out that the last hour of church we would be meeting all together for a special council. I told my husband, before we even knew more about it, that if we were sitting in semi-circles, I would leave. ha! And if there was even a hint of small group discussions I would leave. For real.

When my husband came to the primary room and told me there were 3 rows on either side of the gym facing each other, I was tempted to run to the car. I decided I'd see what it looked like before fleeing, because I can get a sense of how "safe" the room feels just by seeing how it's set up.

It was strange to be sitting facing each other. Let's be honest, totally weird, but because I could opt for a back row, I stayed. They kept telling us the reason we were seated that way was to promote discussion. Discussion? I almost left, if it weren't for my back row dwelling where I felt a little more protected.

And it would have been a perfectly fine hour if it weren't for the bishop starting to call on random people to participate. I was already at defcon 3 because of the invasive room set-up and unknowns, but once you get some random call-outs, it shifts to defcon 4.99 (5 being the worst if you haven't seen War Games).

I kept thinking if I sit with my head down, he won't call on me. And don't worry, he didn't. BUT the problem was, I was afraid he might call on me the entire time, so add up that stress level! I wanted to leave so many times but kept thinking for the sake of my husband I needed to stay.

So....the end of the discussion was finally upon us and I finally felt the inklings of relief as I pictured myself running heading to the car awaiting any food at home that could take me back to my happy place, when the person sitting next to me invited us to dinner. What?!

Me: hanging on to the cliff by a fingernail.

Luckily, I had dinner cooking at home (for real) so I politely declined, and said we already had food in the crockpot. I felt horrible for saying no. She said, maybe next time. Now here's the thing, this woman is wonderful. She is one of my favorite people at church. She's very kind, has a great family, and is very warm and friendly. In an alternate universe I would have said to heck with what's in my crockpot, we'd love to join you for dinner...but in my universe, I will now have to A) avoid her like the plague, B) never talk to her again, or C) never go back to church. Sorry to tell you, there will never be a dinner.

Well this experience, of course, haunted me the rest of the day. I kept reliving the moment when she slowly turned to extend the invitation and I pretty much slapped her in the face with my crockpot. I kept trying to read her expression as I declined and hoped I didn't offend her because she's a saint. Why, why did you have to extend the meal card??! Such a kind gesture for someone who will never accept.

I was utterly defeated as I finally drove away from what felt like the longest 3 hours of my life. I let out a sigh that probably sounded more like a low growl and my husband asked if the primary kids had been that bad? I laughed and said they were the best part...and then proceeded to rant about the set-up of the room and how I thought the bishop might call on me and how it stressed me out that we'd been invited to dinner and...how in the end, I guess I just needed to live on the moon so I could be alone and never have to deal with the stress and anxiety of people again. 
And I meant it.