Excuses: Social Anxiety's best friend

Do you know how many excuses I've made in my lifetime, in the name of social anxiety?

After yesterday's 5,999th excuse to the question, "Are you coming to the ward party?", I realized how tiring it is.

Each excuse has to be realistic. Each excuse has to be believable. Each excuse has to be different enough that no one catches on.

Them: Want to go to dinner?

Me: No, I'm sorry, I have to work late.

Them: Are you coming to the baby shower?

Me: No, I'm sorry, I have to pick someone up from the airport.

Them: Are you coming to the ward party?

Me: No, I have a family event that night.

You name it, I've probably used it. Anything to get out of a social event.

And now I'm faced with my first big work meeting. I've got to think of something. And it's got to be good. And it's got to be long-term.

Them: Are you attending the work meeting?

Me: No, I sorry I can't. I have a long-standing appointment to give blood every Wednesday.

haha No, that won't work. But I'm sure I'll come up with something. I always do.

Post Scriptum:

After I walked away from this blog post, thoughts were running through my head. Something didn't sit right with me. And all at once I realized what it was.

"Excuses is just a friendly word for lies."

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Now I realize why it's such a heavy feeling. Whenever I make an excuse, I'm actually telling a lie. And since I've become so good at it, it makes me a good liar. And since I feel really bad when I lie, it makes me feel really guilty.

Ah the cycle of despair. How is it justified?

Heavenly Father knows what I struggle with, but does He also condone lying because of it? I think I have to block it out for now. And I have to hope that He does understand. And maybe as I work to try to rise above all of this, it's part of turning weaknesses into strengths. It's hoping that some day I'll go back to being a really bad liar, with no recent experience.

Say yes to drugs?

I've been wondering about drugs lately. No, I'm not talking about "taking drugs" in a creepy way, although I have heard that drinking will take the anxious edge off. And I'm not gonna lie, I've daydreamed about what it would be like to take a quick drink to calm my nerves, but only for a millisecond. And no, don't worry, it's only a daydream. One that I need to quit innocently entertaining.

I'm talking about prescription drugs for social anxiety.

As I was driving home from work yesterday, after a long day of trying to figure out my new role at work, an annoying co-worker, mean customer, and worrying about upcoming events, I felt the heaviness of the day. And of course, the heaviness of my life, which never seems to leave me. I couldn't help but wonder if some of it was from writing about my social anxiety again. Did writing about it stir up old feelings that were fine just where they were? Whatever the reason, in that moment I wondered if all of this would feel lighter if I were taking something prescribed for social anxiety?

I mentioned in a previous post that I had tried medication, but it had side-effects, the bedroom type if you know what I mean, and I didn't want to deal with that. I've been told there are other medications that might help with anxiety, without the same side-effects, but I'm afraid of trying them without being monitored by a physician. Let's just say I know someone who can get me some. And it's not a drug dealer.

Would a drug help balance my imbalance? Is it worth the side-effects?

Something to ponder.

10 months and one day later

Yes, it really has been that long.

Does it mean I'm cured and this social anxiety blog is now a thing of the past?

Unfortunately, no.

Do I still dread going to church but continue to go anyway? Yes. But I hope the fact that I'm still actively attending church counts for something.

Why did I disappear? I think at some point I found that by writing about my social anxiety, I was focusing too much on it, and it was somehow making it all bigger. So I stopped writing and thought maybe if I did, my social anxiety would silently slip away. But it didn't. I'm sure there's some psychological explanation to all of that.

To go back over the last 10 months and examine all the times I've experienced social anxiety would be silly. Yet even as I write, my brain is scanning the archives.

In a nutshell, I've lived through countless home teaching visits (almost 10). Some a little more anxious than others.

I cancelled a dinner with a nice couple the day of, and pushed off another invitation from another. In one instance it was a little justified, in the other case it's with someone I would love to get to know. But I can't face dinner with random families. Little do they know it's killing me to be that rude and I'm not that kind of person, but honestly, it's too much for me. I try not to make eye contact when I walk by them at church.

The RS president is still on the prowl but has eased off a bit. Maybe it's because I never return her emails. Maybe it's because she finally got a clue? Nah, that might be too optimistic. Isn't there a point when your affection goes unreturned that you finally realize it's not you, it's me? I guess with her, time will tell.

A few big events have happened during the last 10 months. I promise I won't go all 301 days, but here are the highlights, or lowlights. Call it what you will.

#1. I accepted a leadership calling in my ward.

For women with social anxiety in the LDS church, taking a leadership calling can be

devastatingly scary, for lack of a better word. We know what's coming. Meetings. Activities. Friendships. Sharing. Sharing. Did I mention sharing? I quite often try to explain to my husband just how much LDS women share/over-share. I know they mean well (why do I always have to excuse them?), but for me, in my anxious state, it's suffocating. Men don't share. I consider them lucky.

I was asked to serve in an auxiliary leadership position. When the bishopric member asked to meet with me I knew what was coming. And for an instant, I thought about never calling him back because I didn't want to meet with him and I certainly didn't want another calling. Often, my answer is, "I won't ever call him back and then I'll just never go back to church again." But that's not going to happen. So after all the mental scurrying, I met with him.

And it was just as I thought. After he extended the call, I asked for time to think about it, which I never do. All my life I was taught to just accept it. But this time I couldn't. I needed a moment.

My life had been going fairly smoothly. I had a job I enjoyed and could handle. I had safely eluded the RS president. I had secured my sabbatical from visiting teaching. I never attended extra-curricular church activities. I had created a safe space. Now my perimeter was under attack. Could I handle it?

I wanted to say no to the calling. But at the same time, since I teetered on never going to church again (every week), I knew it might be the one thing to save me. An actual reason to go to church instead of relying on my wavering will power, weakening like the calm after a storm.

I decided I would pray about it. I'll admit, my prayers often weren't very deep. I didn't often cry out to the Lord. Sadly, my prayers, although heartfelt, were often a short, bedtime ritual which without, made sleep restless.

I looked up talks from the Ensign online, targeting phrases like, "whom the Lord calls, He qualifies." Because if I was going to accept this calling, with all it's social interactions, I was going to need to know for sure that the Lord would qualify me for the work and somehow suppress my anxiety. Visions of meetings and personal questions and talk of visiting teaching went through my head. What would I say when they asked me who I visit taught? Which so often comes up in mormon womens' conversations.

A talk that stood out to me strongly, Rise to Your Call by Henry B. Eyring, gave me great hope and assurance that the Lord would stand by me as I served and that I was called for a reason. Through this, other talks I read, prayer and asking my husband for a blessing, I received an answer. The Lord would stand by me if I served. So I said yes. It made a difference knowing I had the Lord's support, not just saying yes because it's what I was supposed to do. I couldn't risk that.

And so far, I'll admit, I'm not immune to moments of stress and anxiety, but I can see that I have received help as I serve. I have been able to do the things I've been called to do. I have been able to attend my meetings. And that, for me, is a milestone. I've still had moments where I needed to walk in the bathroom and breathe or exit stage left for a drink of water during church, or excuse myself from an activity, but for the most part I have persevered. So I will continue to serve. With anxious anticipation.

#2. I have visiting teachers again.

Before you stand up and cheer, let me stop you mid yelp. It's not what it sounds like.

Remember my never ending battle with visiting teaching?

[Just search visiting teaching in the "search this blog" box and you'll get a load of reading material.]

Well, I thought I was in the clear. Months ago after my horrific anxiety attack during a visiting teaching visit, I asked the RS president to take me off the list. I needed a break from teaching or being taught while I dealt with my "anxiety issues".

It worked for a little while but the RS President, not to be defeated, emailed me asking to visit with one of her counselors. To quote, "You've been on her mind a lot lately." Oh great. I don't want to be on someone's mind. Why is she wondering about me? I don't want her to wonder about me! And wasn't I clear the 15th time I told you I needed a break from visits?! Rrrr! Still gets my blood boiling. She didn't get it. And I was feeling attacked. I never wrote her back.

Flash forward to a few weeks ago. The ward announced we were having a visiting teaching conference during Relief Society and all sisters were to come. How awkward would that be for me?! Exit stage left. I suddenly had a previous engagement at another ward. Bu bye.

I'm sure due to the conference, all the visiting teachers came out with a vengeance, excited to get to work. And that's when I got the email. From my new visiting teacher, very eager and excited to visit me. And you'll never guess who her companion was? The RS counselor, who's mind I had been on just a few weeks before. Can you say conspiracy?! Okay drama. But that's what it felt like. I knew I'd been set up. I was her project.

I'm not gonna lie. It ruined my morning. I ranted and raved about how the RS pres clearly didn't get it and how in the bleep did I get put back on the VT list!?! Had I spoken in hieroglyphics?! I said NO. And I thought no meant no. No?

So I closed the email and worried about it all week. What would my response be to her? What did she already know? Did she think I was the RS counselor's project? Did the RS Pres fill her in on my "situation" with all her inaccuracies? She was a very nice lady in my ward. I didn't want her to feel like I didn't like her. I couldn't believe I was faced with this again and each time it felt even more humiliating.

At the end of the week I finally emailed her, after drafting a few different versions. My husband listened as I searched for the right words that would be articulate so as to eliminate any confusion (if that was possible).

I decided the truth was the best option. No too much truth, but not to little as to give her blanks to fill. I came out and told her I was dealing with panic attacks, that I was not comfortable having visits and that she was welcome to email me the message. And the most insightful moment, for me, was in my final sentence. "It's nothing personal against you, it's just personal for me."

So true. For some reason I found great strength in that sentence. It felt empowering.

She wrote back thanking me for my honesty. And although it was humiliating to know that now one more person knew my situation, it was a load off my shoulders.

#3. I accepted a promotion at work

Who Moved My Cheese? A book about dealing with change. Did you read it? I didn't. But I'm sure if I had, I would have found myself in every chapter.

I don't like change. Unless it's good, of course. Even then, I feel like I have a hard time adjusting.

Things in my life were going along fine. I had the whole summer off since I worked for a school and was pursuing a few other things during this time off and loved every minute of it. As I look back, it may just have been one of the best summer's of my life. The freedom to manage my own time, enjoy time with family and pursuing my own interests was a dream. I felt so free.

As my dream summer was coming to a close, my anxiety grew. Work would begin again. What would that first day back be like? What if we had to go around the room to meet new staff? Often it's the anticipation that nearly kills me. Too many what if's. Not enough what is.

I threw around the idea of calling in sick for the first day. Um, no. Show up late? Couldn't do it. Do drugs? hahaha, but no. So I went to the first day back to work and it was completely relaxed. All that worrying had been for nothing.

But just as I was feeling like lucky Lucy, my manager asked me to apply for an assistant manager position. He said I would be really good at it. It paid more. Had more hours. More responsibility.

Everything inside of me screamed "NO! I like things just the way they are! I don't want to change! I don't want more responsibility! Why mess with a good thing? I can handle my job right now and actually enjoy it. You're ruining it!" Okay, so my self-talk is a bit like a toddler's tantrum, but can you blame me? I couldn't face the thought of this change. At least my job was something easy. Something comfortable. I didn't want the rug pulled out from under me.

And so I stewed. And it would have been a mighty good meal for as long as it cooked, but instead, it turned into a big old pot of worry. I emailed my manager and asked him about the position. The one thing that truly haunted my mind? Staff meetings. I had horrific anxiety episodes during previous staff meetings at other jobs and knew I couldn't handle that. He said as far as he knew, staff meetings weren't part of the job.

So with much trepidation, I filled out the application. And secretly hoped they wouldn't even call.

I knew I'd have to step up and lead meetings, train staff, be a spokesperson.

I knew I'd have to step up and be a strong involved leader.

I knew I'd have to step up and do a lot more face to face in general.

And they did call. And I had to interview. It had been a long time since I'd interviewed. I thought my heart might implode inside my chest and then explode all over the panel. But it didn't. I was actually pretty calm, considering. I don't know why I've always been able to pull it off at interviews. It's like I'm having an out of body or something. At the end, I walked out and wondered if I even made sense. But at least I survived.

And then began the nonsensical pleading. "So what if I don't get it?!" I screamed to the universe, "Please don't pick me! I don't even want this!"

I had nightmares. I had periods of panic. I had moments of anger that I had to be doing this anyway.

But I guess the universe knew better, or, maybe Heavenly Father knew better. He knew I could handle it. Because I did get the job. And I have been able to handle it. For the most part. I still have nightmares, lose sleep, and have mini panic attacks when I can't get work out of my head, but I'm hanging on and trying not to slip off the edge I'm standing a bit too close to.

The real kicker? I found out during the interview that my position will have to attend the big staff meetings. I've "gone around the room" in my head a million times. It's enough to stop me in my tracks. Send me screaming out of the room. Quit my job and run away and never come back. I've got to stop thinking about these pending meetings because as I've said, the anticipation is enough to kill me.

Well that's 10 months in a nutshell my friends. I'm sure my brain will unwillingly push through the wreckage and find more to share.

I haven't gone back to my therapy again. It sits in the box gathering dust. Not that I don't think about it. I'm still afraid somewhere in the back of my mind that if I start listening to it again, I'll start focusing on my anxiety again, and it will start to get worse. I know, it doesn't make sense. It's the alcoholic thinking that by attending AA they'll only want to drink more, when it's actually there to help them stay sober.

I think what I've actually done is scale my world down so small that I'm in a safe zone.I avoid the things that cause me too much anxiety, make myself do the things that I can barely handle, and then come home and lock the door. I don't want to mess with quiet. But I know my thinking isn't rational.

The truth is, my world can get bigger. And it can get better. I just have to believe that it can.

Survived another Sunday with social anxiety

As you can see, I lived to tell about today's church, home teaching and tithing settlement activities.
Just thought you should know.

Church was fine. I'm always hoping no one will talk to me. Saying hi is fine, a word or two is fine, but please don't stop me in the hall for a chat. Luckily, Primary saves me from being too available for that sort of thing. To be perfectly honest, I feel like I'm hiding in Primary. It's a safe haven. Since it's all about the kids, teachers are never asked to contribute. They're hardly ever called on or put on the spot. And I'm more than fine with that. I'll sign on for a lifetime Primary calling, thank you very much.

Anyway, I tried to push thoughts of home teachers and tithing settlement out of my mind all day. But of course once we got home it was all about looking at the clock to see how many minutes until they get here...tick, tock, tick, tock...and figuring out anxiety reducing seating arrangements and optimal anxiety reducing lighting, etc., etc. (We socially anxious are very high maintenance you know) haha! Luckily my husband is very understanding and lets me do whatever ritual I need to do. And although I never expressed the anxious thoughts and dread I had been feeling over the home teachers coming over or the tithing settlement meeting, he was lucky I was there at all, right?!

Moving on. The home teachers ended up being late. Ha! Isn't that always the way? As I watched the clock and mentally bit my nails, I wanted to scream,"This is why I hate home teachers!" but I didn't. I just smiled and said maybe we'd been forgotten. Which was actually my backwards wish that I instantly took back because I knew it would mean holding on to the dread another week. No thanks. But they ended up coming late.

And shocker of a lifetime, due to their schedules, they could only stay about 15 minutes. I'll take that any day. I did experience a few moments of anxiety. They asked us questions and suddenly I felt heat shoot across my face. I wondered if they could tell. I thought, "oh, no, here I go again." Somehow I spoke through it. Maybe it was the false sense of security from the "optimal anxiety reduced lighting" ha, ha. It hit me a couple times over a 15 minute period but I had to push through it, even though as I spoke I wondered if they could see the anxiety all over my face.

I survived. Next came tithing settlement.

Luckily, there was no one else waiting in the foyer when we arrived. That's another fear of mine (what does that make it? #3,683?) that we'll be trapped into socializing as we wait for our appointment with the Bishop. To my relief, we went right in. And the Bishop, as always, was very kind and really cares about the members of our ward. I kept my answers short and positive. Kind of like when you say what they want to hear, but mean it? Luckily he didn't bring anything up and we didn't offer. I'm guessing he has heard from the RS pres that I'm having a rough time, of sorts, and may know of our situation with not being able to have kids, but I wasn't going to bring it up and I was very thankful he was sensitive enough not to bring it up either.

So for now, home teaching is done for another month.
Tithing settlement is done for another year.
Church is over for another week.
But who am I kidding, as soon as I take a deep breath, it's time to brace myself to do it all over again.

The current state of my socially anxious mind

As the weeks and months pass, I often reflect about how I'm doing. Am I any closer to "getting over" social anxiety? Does anyone ever really get over it? Do I dare test myself by taking a risk? Or do I just not care enough anymore to try? Have I forgotten how to care about people? Will my life always be guarded; with walls stretched up around my ever enclosing small circle?

I really don't know how to answer some of those questions.

In some ways I feel like I'm closing in on myself.

The other day I wondered what it would be like to stay in my house and only go out when needed. Never going to work, never going to church, never having to go to a social event I didn't want to, never having to meet with people, not having to deal with people anymore.

Speaking of never going to church again, it just so happens that tomorrow is Sunday.

It's December. That means tithing settlement. Which means meeting with the Bishop. He's a nice man, but do I want to go in and meet with him and have him ask me about how I'm doing? No. I don't. He'll ask me about the Christmas party we didn't attend last night. My husband would probably have gone if I had wanted to, but I said I didn't care and so neither did he. So we didn't go. But the anticipation of being asked about it is haunting the back of my mind.

Tomorrow is also our first meeting with our home teachers. It's a double doozie. In some ways I just want to get it all over with on one Sunday, but in most ways I don't want to do it at all. Ever. Taking care of it all on one Sunday just means I'll dread the whole day and be exhausted after it's done. It really doesn't make it any better at all.

Every time I think about the events of tomorrow I want to say I can't go. I want to make my husband go alone. I want to say I don't feel well. And then I picture him having to stand for both of us and it makes me feel horrible for not being a better wife. He deserves more than that. He deserves an equal partner. So I'll make myself do it all, even though none of me wants to do any of it. And it makes me want to run away from church and hide forever just thinking about it.

I always say to myself, you can run but you can't hide from Mormons. No disrespect, but it's true. On the good side, someone's always looking out for you. On the bad side, someone's always looking out for you.

Speaking of such an example, it has almost gotten comical with the RS President. I swear she is on a mission to get me to socialize. One way or another. I think she feel's she's been inspired to save me from something.

I posted a while back that she came over and we talked about my husband and my inability to have kids and also that I've been having episodes with anxiety and haven't felt able to socialize or visit teach.

Since that time she has called and emailed a few times. I haven't called her back, but have sent an email response or two. I know she means well (I can't write about her without saying that) but frankly, she just. doesn't. get it.

Even after our visit where I spoke about not wanting to attend social events due to anxiety, and even after two separate emails stating I am not comfortable with socializing yet "due to my anxiety in social situations", she continues to invite me to every RS social event throughout the year. Her emails begin with, "So are you coming to the dinner on Friday?" or her voice mails have been, "Are you coming to the such and such activity? I don't know how to get a hold of you" (always with desperation in her voice).

My husband and I had to laugh the other day at yet another one of her emails. She wrote, again, asking if I was going to attend a certain activity. I finally decided I'd better spell it out, since she clearly wasn't understanding our conversation about my need to bow out of social activities.

Before sending it, I must have revised her email at least a million times, so I was sure to articulate it in a way that would prevent future misunderstandings. Each time I revised it I read it to my husband and he would say, "I'm not sure she's going to get it." But the final version seemed to be precise enough without shouting it at her. Then, hysterically enough, within hours of sending it off, she sent me an invitation to a RS party later that week. And all we could do was laugh. Oh well, I tried.

So the current state of my socially anxious mind is just as it's always been. I haven't picked up my therapy since July of this year and have been up to my old avoidance tricks. I know I should start my home therapy again if I'm ever going to 1. care about people again 2. like going to church again; 3. ever visit teach again; 4. make more money by working full-time at a job that matches my skill level again and 5. I guess in a nutshell, not dread everything that involves people.

The end.

Well, not really the end, if after tomorrow's daunting day I live to tell.
See you then. Hopefully.

Taking a break from healing

I haven't written in a while and I'll tell you why. Instead of the usual exhaustion from social anxiety itself, I was becoming exhausted from focusing on how to overcome it. And I decided to take a break.

The at-home therapy series I've been listening to and working through has really been a great tool for me and I've had break-through's in my thinking habits and aha moments about my life.

During this process I've learned how to better identify my negative thinking, catch myself at it and try to redirect my thoughts. But I tell you, it's exhausting. Maybe it's just because I had so many negative thoughts to combat. Maybe it's because I was examining myself way too closely. Maybe it was the anxiety I felt about needing time alone to listen and "talk" the therapy out and not having time alone and secretly resenting my husband for it. Maybe it was finding that concepts were building on each other and it required even more alone time that I didn't have. Maybe after my last anxious moment with someone, the discouragement I felt was defeating and I threw my hands up and stopped believing my life would ever be any different. Maybe it was due to me focusing so hard on overcoming social anxiety that it became all I thought about.

Whatever the reason, I had induced social-anxiety-healing-exhaustion and I decided to take a break. To be honest, I can't really remember when I started my therapy sabbatical. I'm guessing it's been about two weeks. And I know I need to get back to it because it's the persistence and consistency that makes the changes effective. But for now, I'm on therapy pause.

The last concept I started learning about was called the fighting paradox. In a nutshell, fighting against our social anxiety (which comes most naturally to us, i.e. "What's wrong with you?! Why can't you just be normal?"...those happen to be my favorite lines) actually makes it worse, whereas giving in to it (accepting ourselves as we are and gently working at overcoming it) is the way to overcome it.

Moving on to this next phase was a bit overwhelming. Now not only would I have to catch my negative thinking as it related to social situations (dreading, avoiding, etc.), and catching my negative thinking as it related to every day life (wrong line at grocery store, getting cut off in traffic, not dwelling on past negative experiences, etc.), but now I would also have to catch and redirect my negative thoughts about having social anxiety in the first place ("I hate going through this"; "why do I have to deal with this anyway"; "I'm so tired of this", etc.), which I realize now, are often my thoughts of choice.

That's why writing this blog has been so therapeutic for me. It's not until I get it all written down that it becomes clearer than ever.

Moving forward in the therapy series meant letting go of those thoughts that came so easily to my mind ("I hate going through this"; "Why do I have to deal with this anyway?"; "I'm so tired of this", "Other people don't have to deal with social anxiety, why do I have to?" etc.). And the honest truth is, I didn't even realize these thoughts were negative. I know I said them quite often because they made me feel better. I was just shouting out how I felt. But now as I internalize what the fighting paradox actually means, these statements I shout out to make myself to feel better, in the end, actually just make it worse and keep me right where I am in a vicious cycle of negativity.

So moving forward with therapy and continuing to work to overcome my social anxiety meant I would have to let go of my shout-outs. And they had made me feel better (said the dieter to the ice cream)...or so it felt. So what would comfort me if I couldn't say those things anymore? I began to feel exposed and vulnerable. I began to feel myself unraveling.

And so I took a break.

• I took a break from combatting my negative thoughts.
• I took a break from examining myself too closely.
• I took a break from worrying about needing time alone for therapy
• I took a break from resenting my husband over not having enough alone time for therapy
• I took a break from feeling overwhelmed about the mounting therapy assignments
• I took a break from thinking about the last anxiety attack I had and the associated defeat
• I took a break from making overcoming social anxiety my life-consuming task

And I realized that taking a break and allowing my thoughts to make sense of themselves actually helped me find some clarity. And I'm still on a break until...Monday, make that Tuesday, since my husband will be home all day Monday and I won't have any alone time to start up my therapy again. But I'm not going to stress about that one. bit.

P.S. And in the end, unlike the title suggests, I really can't take a break from healing. And that's a good thing. Because in the end I may have learned more during my two+ week sabbatical than if I hadn't taken it at all.

Going to church with social anxiety and infertility

I'm having a hard time at the moment.

Sunday was hard.

Today has also been difficult. I feel like I'm living the overflow of depression that was Sunday.

I'm trying to stay positive but it is difficult.

As I tried to analyze my feelings, I realized that I have a very large compartment of feelings all their own for "going-to-church-with-social-anxiety" versus "going-to-work-with-social-anxiety" versus "dealing-with-people-due-to-social-anxiety". I used to think the "work" or "people" aspect of my social anxiety was the biggest. I'm figuring out, though, that church might very well be the biggest obstacle of all to overcome, and that there is more to it than meets the eye. And I'm not sure how to do it.

I've tried so hard these past few weeks to go over my therapy, read the positive statements, and fight off my automatic negative thoughts. And I thought I was doing better. I even felt better in work meetings. I felt better during interactions with people. I thought I had made progress.

And then Sunday came. And it felt as though all the progress I had made had been for nothing because I couldn't fight the onslaught of negativity that hit me head-on when I thought about going to church. Just thinking about going to church brought on feelings of despair, anger, depression and helplessness.

But I made myself go. Because that's what I do. And as I sat in sacrament meeting I had an overwhelming desire to leave. To never come back. To never have to deal with this again. And I have to say that if it weren't for the fear of losing my marriage or hurting my family, I would do it. I would walk away and never come back. Not because it's not true, but because it's just too hard to be there.

And I also realized as I was sitting in my if-I-had-my-way-this-would-be-my-last church meeting, that there was much more to it than social anxiety. Much more.

I mentioned in a previous post that my husband and I have been dealing with infertility for the last 4 years. We were late bloomers and married in our mid-30's, five years ago. Now I am only six months away from 40 and my child bearing years are diminishing right before my very eyes. We tried invitro, which ended in a devastating ectopic pregnancy. And just last month, we had to walk away from a 2nd attempt at invitro because the expense was impossible to meet.

And there I sat. In a sacrament meeting surrounded by babies. Everywhere I turned there were mothers and babies. And I felt angry. I felt sad. I felt cheated. I felt out of place. I saw before me, a hopeless future of dealing with this horrendous pain the rest of my life. Because we belong to a church that is all about babies. All about children. All about motherhood. And all about families. And we don't fit in. We don't fit the mold of a typical Mormon couple. And this would be our curse forever. And I didn't want anything to do with it.

I fought my way through the rest of the meetings and when we got home I told my husband how I felt. That if I could walk away and never go back I would, because it is torturous to be there. And I knew it would never change because that is the culture of the church. No matter how true the gospel is, the culture is made up of talks, activities, celebrations and discussions about babies, mothers and families. And we would never fit. And I wished I could take a few months off to get a handle on this, but in the back of my mind I knew if I took a break, I would never return.

So here I sit today, reviewing my thoughts and realizing there is so much more to it than dreading church because of social anxiety. It is also dreading church because of infertility. And yet it is all sweetly intertwined.

Social anxiety is based on the intense fear of being judged.

People with social anxiety do not want to be singled out.

People with social anxiety fear everyone is talking about them or looking at them, criticizing what they're doing or who they are.

I am infertile, in a very fertile church (so to speak)

I do stand out.

I am talked about.

I am pitied (and that's as hard as being criticized).

And the worst part is, there is nothing I can do to control or change it.

So I feel out of place, judged and insecure because I will never be like the typical LDS woman.

And I feel judged because I do stand out and will always stand out among the norm.

And I feel judged because I know people talk about me and wonder why we don't have kids

And I feel judged and insecure because the RS President shares personal stories with people and I know she has shared mine

And I feel judged and insecure because I know I will be asked for a lifetime why we don't have kids.

And I feel judged and insecure because I will always be the one who gets a flower on Mother's Day even though I'm not a mom.

And I feel judged and insecure and sad because I am pitied and no one wants to feel pitied.

I will never fit in. How can I? Even if I were to adopt I would still feel out of place because I couldn't share my birth story, which with Mormons, could happen at any given time.

Now I know the "everyone is talking about me" and "everyone is pitying me" statements sound a bit like a teenager, and I can admit that they aren't completely true or rational, but it's simply how I feel.

And with that, I will conclude my post. I have a huge obstacle to face and somehow overcome.

My social anxiety is intertwined with my infertility. And if I'm ever going to gain a love for going to church again and a desire to be part of a ward family, then I have a lot to figure out. And overcome.

• I need to somehow find peace and security in my state of fertility.
• I need to learn how not to compare myself to other people and how I do or don't fit the LDS mold.
• I need to find a way to separate my feelings of insecurity as they relate to infertility.
• I need to admit that my thoughts aren't completely true or rational, when it comes to how I think others are viewing me.
• I need to focus on the gospel instead of the culture of the church.
• I need to embrace the fact that I do stand out and will always stand out among the norm. And make that a blessing instead of a curse.