Wednesday, May 16, 2007

15 year reunion and wating more

Saturday night was a night I had been nervous about for a couple of weeks. It was my 15th high school reunion. I went to lunch with an old friend a few days before the reunion -- she wasn't going to attend -- and she asked me, "why do you want to go? Didn't we hate high school?" That question made me stop and think. Yes, for the most part high school was painful for me. I had a couple of close friends and was a good student but high school definitely wasn't for me. I was, and still am, painfully shy. I've diagnosed myself with social phobia and working at my job for 12 years has only seemed to cause this social phobia to get worse -- I work on the computer, from home and don't see any of our customers.
Why would I want to go back? I guess the reason was that I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. I wanted to walk up to someone I didn't really know and strike up a conversation. And I did it. It was painful and it required 2 glasses of wine, but I mingled with a couple of old classmates that I hadn't really known 15 years ago. Did I have a good time? No, but I'm glad I went. If I gained anything from the experience it was the knowledge that talking with another human being won't cause me to die and heck, the person I'm talking with probably won't just walk away from me while I'm in midsentence.
I also learned, from my a friend's husband, that my shyness isn't obvious to the world as I always assumed. He was shocked to hear that I considered myself socially awkward.
Well, I won't go out and make a bunch of new friends while at the park with the kids, I might be a little less hesitant to strike up a conversation with another mom.

OK, folks, I want out to Southern California. Less than a year ago I talked my husband into moving into a slightly bigger house in a neighboring city. We didn't need to move but I was convinced that living in this city would help me meet other parents and help the isolation I feel working from home with the kids. We now live in a house I love (although it is old and needs work we haven't the money for) in a great neighborhood. We can walk to most all shopping and services we need and we are surrounded by great parks. The schools in the area are supposed to be good and the city is very safe. I'm about 25 minutes from the beach and the weather is great. What the hell else could I want? Well, now I'm thinking I made a bad decision. We are strapped with a huge mortgage that forces me to continue at my job and doesn't leave any savings for fixing up the house, which really needs fixing up. The city we live in is only about 10 minutes from where I grew up. I hated it as a teen... living in an upper middle-class area when my family was always struggling even to buy clothes at Sears. I felt like an outcast and that other kids were so materialistic. It is still that way here. You should see the outfits that the 5 year olds wear here. For Mother's Day my husband treated me to a manicure -- the only other manicure I've had was before my wedding, so it was a real treat. When I went to the nail place, there were like 6 or 7 young girls in there getting mani/pedis. I'm talking 8 year old girls, for God's sake!
I find I'm wasting time in the evening, time that should be spent writing, looking on the computer at property in Washington State. My little sis lives up there and it just looks beautiful. I have visions of a house on an acre or more of land where my little ones can run free. They would have places to climb trees and explore, something they can't do here. I daydream of the two of them going out on a summer afternoon and exploring and using their imaginations to conjure up all sorts of adventures. They only get one childhood and I want more for them than I feel they'll get here. Husband is not on the same page as me and I feel like a bitch even approaching the subject since it was me who put us in this house in the first place. Who am I to ask for more when there are billions of people in the world who will never even have what I have now?
Anyway, I'm obsessed and I've got to do something. Either shelve the idea completely so I can focus my attention on my wonderful family, or stop being a pussy and just tell husband what I want to do. Poor man. He married a woman to whom the grass is always greener.

**update: Apparently my sister thinks I was drunk when I wrote this. Of course there is the obvious misspelling in the title, which I didn't catch. No, I wasn't drunk this morning, just dog tired and had a lot on my mind. Also the grammar is less than stellar -- not that it is ever that great when I'm just writing off the cuff. Also, I'm lazy and don't usually read my posts before I post them. That'll teach me. Thanks, Balz!


L.A. Daddy said...

Glad you went to your reunion. Even just to say you did.

I flew back to Ohio for my 20th last summer. I hadn't seen any of those people for... well, 20 years. College was where it was at for me. But they were all amazed at how much funnier I am now than I was then.

I told them it was a result of the brain tumor...

Molly said...

Do it! Come live here with me! Or, I mean, buy a house here so I can live with you! Just tell Husband, as you call him, I'll beat him up if he doesn't let you do what you want.

Maureen said...

l.a. daddy -- College was more fun for me, too. I think you are totally funny, so your tumor must still be there.

Balz -- I'm trying to get "husband" to move up your way... but he just thinks I'm crazy!