The push and pull

***I actually wrote this post two weeks ago, but due to a glitch it never posted... I'll be updating soon & P.S. I did go to church today. And survived. ;)***

---

Hey there. I'm back. And of course, there's something stirring...because I'm back writing.
And you're the only ones I can tell.

We moved, like I said we were probably going to do. New ward = New deathwish.
For some strange reason, I had a different vision of what this "new start" would look like.

At first it looked like this:

• I would embrace our new ward.
• I wouldn't dread Sundays.
• I would look forward to meeting this new group of people and create and feel a sense of community.
• I would reach out and make friends.
• I would attend groups and activities.
• I would feel comfortable going to church.
• I would like going to church again.

-----BBBBBWWWWAAAAAAHHHHHHH (big nasty buzzer sound)-----

It's more like the dream started out that way the first 2 times we went to church and then it died.
R.I.P.

Now it's more like:

• About mid-week, I start thinking about whether or not I'm going to make myself go to church or not.
• And then sometimes we go.
• And sometimes we don't.
• And I tell myself that's okay, we'll go next week.
• And I dread the emails and potential calls I get about why we weren't there and who wants to come and visit.

Overload
The first 2 weeks I reached out and met some new people, while trying to act like a different person. Someone who was excited to be there, happy to meet new people and looking forward to being a part of the ward.

Since then, I've been a little in and out and haven't done much socializing. I'm starting to feel my anxiety build though, since within the past couple weeks I've been contacted by the Relief Society who really wants to come and visit me. I've gotten assigned to 3 visiting teachee's. Three! I can barely dare to think of 2. My visiting teachers have contacted me twice, and are very eager to visit. The bishop wants to meet with us. Luckily, we haven't been asked to speak yet, and haven't gotten Home Teachers, but I know it's coming.

I have yet to do any of it. Push me against a wall, and I pull on the magic rope that opens my secret escape trap door. Bu Bye.

I'm still hiding.
Not sure if I'll go to church Sunday or not, but I know I'm just prolonging the inevitable and making it much more painful. It's all going to happen anyway. AAAAHHHH!! Oh the agony!
I hate this internal tug-of-war I have with myself every week. It makes me tired.

I hope you are all a little stronger than I'm being right now! If so, send me some of your armor! :)

My drama-filled dialogue

Wow. Sunday was a big day for me. I had to be involved in something that brought on MAJOR anxiety. I mean the kind that makes your heart beat out of your chest and you think you're going to faint when it's your turn to do your thing.

My thoughts were racing as quickly as my heart. I could feel my face getting red. As I sat waiting for my turn to go up, I weakly attempted to talk myself down from the wall with "thoughts of ocean waves rolling in"....no, that's not working..."a field of sweet-smelling flowers"...attempting slow breathing techniques...but in the end reality took over. Who am I kidding?? I'm in the middle of relief society and have to get up in front of everyone in about 3 minutes. There's not an ocean or flower big enough to calm me down! And then it was my turn.

As I stood in front of the group, fear gripped me around the throat. Usually when I'm in front of people doing my thing, the anxiety eventually reaches a peak and then starts to die down, but the whole time I felt breathy, trying to breathe normally as my throat closed up and I had to keep swallowing or I'd choke. Thoughts raced through my head, "What if I pass-out? No, that can't happen. Wait, yes it can! I've seen people do it on tv! Just breathe!" (such drama-filled inner dialogue).

But luckily I didn't pass out and made it through but oh. my. gosh. it was exhausting. I was still a bundle of nerves when I was done. Oh the inner woe! No one in that room knew doing my part nearly killed me. Like for reals.

In the church hallway, my husband asked me how it went and I replied, choking back a laugh, "It went pretty well" knowing that when we got in the car I was going to unleash the monster. And I did. I don't think I stopped talking the entire ride home, spitting out every last obnoxious detail. Kind of like I do here. ha!

He was kind of stunned and didn't really know how to respond. I mean how do you respond when someone blurts out such nonsense a mile a minute... "I thought I was literally going to pass out and my heart was pounding and I thought I was choking and I didn't know whether I could make it so I tried to think of the ocean and slow my breathing but nothing worked and then it was my turn and I felt totally freaked out but I finally made it through and lived to tell" kind of lunacy. Poor dear. He has to listen to this whenever I do something that pushes me over the edge.

And when I finally got home, not only did I want to eat everything in sight, I also wanted to go to bed and sleep for 1,000 hours. It sucked me dry people. The rest of the day was a blur.

I'm reminded again and again every time I have a panic attack / social anxiety attack how much our thinking affects us. I know it's all psychological. My mind knows it, but I haven't figured out how to connect that to my body. Hopefully one of these days I will.