fusion

If there is one thing an anorexic introvert SUCH AS MYSELF does not want to have happen before 10am or ever is to be invited to a dinner. I know I know I know. Being social would be great for me. I know I know I know. It's all about balance and doing something daily that scares you. Well well well, did it ever occur to you that everything throughout the span of a single day scares me? I don't need to search to find something terrifying. Rather I should seek out the single thing that soothes. Like taking a bath with wine while listening to Enya! JK. I don't want the wine and baths currently gross me out, but I WILL listen to Enya and imagine that I am some ethereal Celtic fairy.

Ethereal Celtic fairies aside, I understand (do I?) that these opportunities to dine with good people are opportunities I should take. Should, need, must. But I don't know if I can right now. I become frustrated with myself when I say things like that -- it brings up all of those past experiences I missed out on for one reason or another. "I don't know if I can right now." I think, "Well, if not now, when?" Then I need to remind myself that I can't build Rome/an appetite for food/life/human interaction in a single day. Or week. Or month. But hopefully in ten thousand million seconds I will be in tip top emotional shape. (Ten thousand million seconds are the amount of seconds in 32 years. I hope that in the next year and a half I will be more comfortable with myself and other people and that I will be the owner, chef, and regular customer of a five-star restaurant. "Excuse me, waiter. There's an emotionally stable woman in my soup!" I will bathe in soup while listening to Enya and drinking the finest wine this valley has to offer.)

Patience. Patience with myself is something I don't think I've ever quite had. I have also never had the following: a colonoscopy, crab cakes, crabs (that I know of), a lesson on how to read maps (must have been absent that day in 6th grade), an interest in political debates, fermented grape juice (psych!), a tuxedo, a ride on a donkey.

Before I go out and buy a tuxedo and some crab cakes, I wish to mention that I am very appreciative of these invitations people offer me. Apparently I'm not appreciative enough to accept the invitations (yet), but I do realize that I have a lot of support and love. That helps me more right now than a shared meal. And the patience some sweethearts have with me astounds me. I can be a flaky, frustrating soul, I know. But thank you. I will eventually come around. And I am beginning to come around, in small ways. I won't build Rome, but I will build courage -- and a five-star restaurant with large tubs of soup. Will you be my first customer? Meal's on the house (and in every crevice of your body).