Still Polly

"If you don't want to go I'll tell them we can't make it." That's just it, though. I never want to go. Bob had called me to say that some friends wanted to meet us in town at one of our favorite little places to have some drinks and hear a band. And while to most people this sounds really reasonable and fun, to me just the invitation sends me reeling. So the excuses just start flowing. That's too late. What about dinner. I'll have to leave Riley. We're going somewhere tomorrow. I'll have to change clothes. It'll be too crowded. I'm having a bad hair day. I don't want to run into anyone. It's too cold out. It's too hot out. It's windy. (Yes, it gets that ridiculous.) The man is used to it by now, and mostly he understands my anxiety and respects my deep introversion. And here he was, ready and willing to let me off the hook. But this time it felt like I really needed to say yes to this. It was something he really wanted t...

Just kidding. I'm not going to tell you or show you what I eat in a day.  But, apparently the entire world is fascinated, obsessed, repelled, or some combination of all three, by "what I eat in a day" videos on the YouTubes.  These videos are created by "influencers" of all shapes, sizes, and levels from physical fitness experts and nutritionists to "regular people" on some form of fitness or wellness journey. The former record their "what I eat in a day" videos to inspire or challenge or teach. The latter record their meals presumably to track their progress on these journeys. Some have paid sponsorships, some don't. Many of them have hundreds of thousands of views. Then there is another level of influencer that makes videos critiquing the "what I eat in a day" videos, and give them either praise or criticism or some combination of the two. These are also created to inspire, challenge, or teach (or some would say, shame). Nearl...

"I really don't know how to keep from scaring you," he said. This was after he walked into the room and said something - my name maybe? And I screamed. Very loud. And jumped. Very high. It's not an exaggeration, it's what really happens. Every single time. I told him, as I have probably a million times since we've been married, "It's not you, it's me." He said it still makes him feel bad, and I get that. I really do. He has tried whispering. I still scream and jump (maybe even more). He has tried making noises to announce his presence. If anything was close to being effective to prevent the freak-out, it's probably that method. But it doesn't always work. I am a jumpy person.  It's not just Bob, either. My coworkers have also witnessed the full blown freak-out. Usually a first-timer dies laughing and then says, "I didn't mean to startle you." To which of course I say, "It's not you, it's me." One fo...

"Just take a deep breath," people tell me.  And it's not bad advice, really. I think there are studies that show that breathing exercises can calm the central nervous system. Breathe in for 4, breath out for 6, that kind of thing. So I try, but sometimes it comes out sounding like Darth Vader. Or I have to put my head between my knees. Or I have to pace the floor. Drinking cold water sometimes helps, too. There is probably some science behind that, but I'm not a scientist. When I'm having an anxious day, everything feels off. There usually isn't anything specific that I can put my finger on, instead it's very general. Today, thankfully, isn't one of those days (so far, it's always subject to change). I've been thinking how to describe my particular brand of anxiety, and there are several analogies I could use. I'll give you one today. I was recently at an event where champagne was being served. In this case the party planners wisely chose p...