Committing to the Choice

I mentioned last time about choosing not to go spend time in an environment where I would be uncomfortable, but still worrying about my choice. Right after I posted, I got annoyed because I didn’t want to feel so scared and small. So I did the only thing I could do:

I made my soup anyway.

I threw it in the crockpot and committed to being home for another 5 hours. And then I made iced tea. And muffins. Well, my husband helped make muffins a few hours later when he got home, but it seems right to include them here.

Things were pretty good. For a while. I heard car doors slam around 5:00 and I hid in my closet. I wish I could say it wasn’t the case, but when I get overwhelmed, I still hide in small, dark places, like a child. At my grad school, I used to hide under the counter in the bathroom, at least, when I didn’t think there would be many women in there.

It feels safer to be in a small space. Like no one can see me, so I can be alone. Sometimes, I need to feel alone.

So I hid, but the car wasn’t for me. I got a text later, just checking to be sure I didn’t want to come, and I replied, and then things were calm. Fine. No one got mad. No one pressured me. It’s just fine.

I need to get used to this. I am allowed to make choices, even if they defy expectations, and when I do, things are fine. I can relax.

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