I am super, super, super excited about Miami. That’s not much of a confession, is it? Bear with me…you should know by now that it takes me a while to get to the point…when I have a point, that is. I think I do have one this time but you’ll have to read to the end to find out ((TEASER!)).
Our experience at the Detroit conference in 2010 was so amazing and it brought us fully into the fold of the fragile X community. It was a huge turning point for Eric and I both. I wasn’t as graceful in my transition as Eric but I’ve come around to the point where a whole lot of “will never”s and “over my dead body”s have morphed into realities…the one that hasn’t yet…is now in the realm of “possibly, maybe, OK but give me a little bit longer?”
OK, now we get to the confession part…Detroit was pretty overwhelming for me emotionally and I’m getting really, really, really anxious about Miami. On the one hand, I’m way more prepared for the conference. I know what to expect and I have some amazing IRL friends who will be there this time. I have a place in the community now, I don’t feel like I’m on the edges waiting nervously for someone to say, “Oh, HI! I’m so happy you’re here!”
Writing this blog makes me feel naked. Only a very few people in Detroit were able to connect my actual being to this…this…insanity. I outed myself last year because I decided it was time to own my story. It didn’t seem fair for me to preach connectedness and community and friendship when I was still hiding so much of myself. After so carefully keeping our faces and names and location hidden I said, “What’s the worst that could happen?” and blew the whole thing up. Probably after a couple glasses of Riesling.
Now there’s a whole bunch of new people who I am absolutely, over-the-moon, excited to meet and this time they actually know who I am and that I want to meet them so I’m not a creeper in the corner trying to make eye contact in a non-stalkerish manner while I silently stalk them. That should make it easier, right? But…it kinda makes it worse.
Now I’m consumed with a whole different set of anxieties…the main one is this…you guys are all so ((FUCKING)) cool. I am in awe of your stories, your resilience, your determination to make things happen…I feel unworthy. I feel like you’ll be disappointed when you meet me and see that I really am just a dorky stalker type.
One of my friends (KQ) keeps referring to the “cool kids club” which at first made me sigh and dream of the lost days of my high school popularity (HA! Fellow KHSers will get this joke, as soon as they figure out who the fuck I am) and wish I could be one of them. Then she gave me a “Duh!” look and told me she was talking about my friends…and me. Which made me laugh, then blush, then mumble awkwardly ((I do everything awkwardly, you will see.)) and finally…puke…because I am so not a “cool” kid. I’ve never been a cool kid.
I’ve always been the quiet one sitting smack in the middle of the room trying desperately to escape the attention of the cool kids in the back and the teacher at the front. I’m ((very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very, very)) shy when meeting new people. I think people maybe forget sometimes that just because I don’t throw up on your shoes ((I have not done this since my 21st birthday, I swear)), doesn’t mean I’m not anxious. I’ve been told more than once I’m intimidating, people are afraid to approach me because I’m so aloof but that is alllllll anxiety. I don’t bite, I won’t be mean to you, I’m sure that I want to meet you ((I typed meat and did not catch it until the 3rd review. Let us be clear, I will not meat you, that is another promise!)) even.
I remember in Detroit in 2010 I really, really, really wanted to meet Kristie (Life with My X Men, Kristie). The final night of the conference, at the banquet, I finally saw her. It nearly killed me to approach her and introduce myself and after getting a photo with her I ran ((awkwardly)) back to my table and sat there staring at my husband with huge eyes, shaking. It was that hard.
I know I promised you a point but I don’t really remember what my point was going to be anymore except maybe that I’m way more like you than you probably expect. We probably have very similar insecurities and very similar dialogs running in our heads ((That is meant to be comforting, BTW, not scary.)). I am going to try to be less awkward and be more…crap…I don’t even know what my options are though drunk is sounding pretty good right now *sigh*