Will I Survive? |

For as long as I can remember, I have suffered from social anxiety.

What exactly is social anxiety, you may ask?

Social anxiety is the fear of being judged and evaluated negatively by other people, leading to feelings of inadequacy, inferiority, self-consciousness, embarrassment, humiliation, and depression.

Pretty much the story of my life.

Ironically, what used to plague me around people I didn’t know has done somewhat of a 180, and now I tend to be more bothered by this sort of anxiety around the people I actually do know.

Weddings, showers, reunions and work functions ALL add up to the same thing:

MY WORST NIGHTMARE

A good example of this was a few weeks back when I was traveling for work and attended a team dinner. As soon as we sat down, everyone’s phone came out to share family photos – mainly tiny babies in newsboy hats and matching vests. I have to admit, the pictures were adorable, and everyone already had babies on the mind as one of our co-workers is pregnant.

I sat patiently and waited for the inevitable question:

“Tracy, you have cats, right?”

I’ve stopped pulling out my phone and showing gigantic belly shots of my fur babies. I’ve learned that it only makes me look more pathetic than I am, and people are only asking me that question so I don’t feel completely left out. (Which I am.) Despite their attempt at inclusion, I’ve noticed they always seem to emphasize the word “cats”, which I think adds a smidgeon of pity.

A little bit later, kids were back in the conversation, (shocker!), and someone said that I was too old to have babies. (Admittedly, it might have been me who said that, but I’m not entirely sure.) It was at this point, one of my co-workers looked at me and said I wasn’t too old because she’s in her late thirties and just found out she was pregnant. As the cheers and chants spread throughout the table, and the restaurant, I held my tongue until it bled, so I wouldn’t point out the fact that mid-forties was a tad older than late thirties, and my ovaries and related lady parts are probably starting to rot all over, if they haven’t done so already.

Instead, I did the mature thing and started guzzling my Chardonnay.

As the toasting continued for what seemed like forever, another co-worker, this one male, had asked me earlier in the day if he could come work in my office while his wife was traveling to Northern California for her job. It was at this moment he decided to tell me, “Tracy, why do you think I’m traveling with my wife? She’s ovulating!” My silent reaction:

I could have gone the whole night without hearing that.

It was at that point, you could have stuck a fork in me. I was done. And the sharp utensil was encouraged to be inserted and twisted right into the carotid artery located in my neck.

I know I was probably being oversensitive, but I couldn’t help it. I am unmarried and childless and being judged for it! Yes, mainly by myself. Yet, I still felt like a complete loser. And completely alone.

In a week, I will be attending a family reunion in upstate New York. I’m truly looking forward to the trip and seeing everyone, but, at the same time, I’m a bit on edge.

As usual, I will be attending without a plus one – no man nor child – and will feel as I always do when I’m around my family, like an outsider.

This year we’ve got two engagements, a couple expecting, a new baby and an array of significant others that will be scattered throughout the premises.

And me. Just me.

Don’t get me wrong, I am super happy for all of these couples, (although that might partly be the Zoloft talking). No, I am. I truly am.

But part of me dreads to be around all this happiness and promise because it just accentuates the fact that I am once again, and indeed – say it with me now – ALONE.

When do I get to share my Happily Ever After? And how am I supposed to live Hopefully Ever After with all this joyful bliss-shit messing with my head?

Calgon, take me away!

(Does anyone else remember that reference? Or am I now too old for my own good?)

Clearly, I’m spiraling, and I need to stop. However, this is what I do.

The last time I saw my family, not one person asked me what was going on in my life. It was like I wasn’t even there. Nobody cared. I mentioned this to my cousin and he said, “Well, we just didn’t want to upset you.”

Why would I be upset for someone asking how I am? Apparently, since I’m not married and don’t have kids, people already know the answer. And apparently, it’s that I’m miserable.

But the thing is, I’m not miserable. I like my life…for the most part. It’s not perfect and it’s certainly not going the way I thought it would, but I’ve got love in my life – true love and true friendships and a career and jumbo-sized cats that adore me unconditionally, (and who I adore unconditionally despite all the special surprises they leave on my carpet). And I’ve got a blog that I think might be up to ten whole readers – that’s double-digits, people!

I think what gets to me about all these gatherings is that at one point – pre-forty – I always got questioned about when I was getting married and when I was having kids. People wanted to know who I was dating and what I was doing, to the point of annoyance.

Post-forty it all stopped. Dead in its tracks. And that’s when I realized…

The Fairy Tale expires at forty. At midnight, no less. (Hello Forty Tale.)

I feel like everyone has given up on me. I’m passed my expiration date and folks stay far, far away from me in fear of being contaminated.

I’m not married and don’t have kids – get me in quarantine, ASAP!

I know there is more to life than being married and having kids. But sometimes I forget because I am constantly reminded of the shame and failure on my part. Yes, a lot of this disgrace comes from me, myself, and I. But, not all of it. It is not entirely self-inflicted, even if it’s not intentional.

So how do I prove to everyone (and myself) that I’m just fine as I am? How to I fight back against this unnecessary post-forty expiration shaming?

The only way I know how…through song.

Will I Survive?

Anthem of the Age Appropriate Princess

(Sung to Gloria Gaynor’s I will Survive)

At first I was afraid, I was petrified
I’m not married, without kids and nearly forty-five
And I’ve spent so many nights wondering where my life went wrong
I want to be strong
But I’ve been alone for so damn long

I feel attacked
And out of place
Don’t know why I fall apart when I see that look upon your face
It may come as some great shock that there’s pain you just don’t see
And what I really want to say is that your comments bother me

Come on, let’s go, out on the floor
No turning back now
Not gonna take your crap no more
I really, really, really wanna punch you in the eye
And watch you stumble
As I enjoy some curly fries

Good God, will I, will I survive?
Got no man or kid to love, and no good reason to be alive
But I’ve got this life to live
Plus two big cats stayin’ at my crib, will I survive?
I will survive, hey, hey

It takes all the strength I have not to fall apart
When I arrive at an event and all the rumors start
And I’ve spent so much time just feeling sorry for myself
I want to hide
But now I raise my middle-finger high

Look at me
Like someone new
I’m not that hopeless bitter woman that doesn’t have a clue
So stop your mumblin’ and just let me be me
Life’s not over ‘cause someone’s a spinster at forty-three

Go on now, go, walk out the door
Just turn around now
Not gonna take your shit no more
Weren’t you the one who said my life’s not justified
‘Cause I struggle
To reproduce and find a guy