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Friday, December 3, 2010

Well.

When I was growing up, I felt totally inconsequential, socially. My sisters were way better at entertaining than I was -- they could laugh and smile and joke at the drop of a hat, whereas I, overcome by all manner of nervousness, had a difficult time even speaking when more than three people were present.

After (eventually) being diagnosed with social anxiety disorder, going through therapy and finding the right medication, I mellowed out. When I started high school, I was able to communicate, and to make friends, and once college began and I had Spencer and Lindsay and Rebecca I figured everything was fine and my life would remain (at least somewhat) normal.

Well.

Tonight there was a party. It was at my house. There were people here who I love and count among my dearest friends. And the whole time we were sitting around chatting, shooting the breeze, telling stories I felt like someone had stuck a straw into my heart and was trying to drink it out of me.

I felt so small. So unimportant. For the first time in years, I was overwhelmed with the desire to run into my parents' bedroom and bury myself in blankets (which I used to do when they had students over for the holidays).

Everyone always forgets who I am.

I was sad and lonely and kind of frustrated. I wanted to say, "THIS SHIT DIDN'T GET DONE ON ITS OWN, YOU KNOW."

I wanted to be told "thanks" for something other than playing nice or being patient, without having to sit down and outline all of the reasons why I deserve some attention every once in a while.

But because I'm quiet, I guess it's just not that big a deal.

I feel like shit.

Shitty shit shit.

I can't wait until I'm in the mission field, because I know God is always watching and is always appreciative and never makes anyone feel like nothing they do is ever good enough.

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