jennyaxe | Deep Thoughts, or something

Yesterday, the DH and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean, and then had a pre-birthday dinner at Vine Yard, a really good reastaurant about ten minutes away from here. We chatted with the waitress, the cook came by and said hi to us, and we were generally having a good time (as well as a superb meal, but that's par for the course at Vine Yard). And I started thinking.

I'm almost never afraid of people anymore. When I go to have lunch somewhere, or to shop, or to a cafe, or to the hairdressers, or to any other situation where I can expect to meet new people, I am not afraid.

If you're a not too unlucky person, you will have no idea what I mean by this. If you're anything like me, you will know only too well.

I remember a time when I was perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, walking to a small shop about ten minutes walk from where I lived. It was on an autumn afternoon, the leaves were gold and red and orange, and the sky beginning to assume the same color. I was alone.
Then I met a group of teenagers, possibly a year or two older than me. I didn't know them, so I tensed up a bit without really noticing. After we had passed eachother, a gust of wind blew some words towards me.
"Did you notice how frightened she looked?"

And then I realised. It dawned upon me that most people didn't see other people as dangerous, as something to be avoided when possible, and something to be wary of when you couldn't avoid them. I did, and people found it remarkable. People I didn't even know.

I think that was when I tried to get help from a psychiatrist to help me deal with the baggage I was carrying around from being harassed at school for five years. I found out rather quickly that they couldn't help me, so I had to deal with it by myself. And I did. I learned how to use body language to appear calm and in control. I learned to listen enough to other people to figure out how to interact with my peers without appearing too strange. I learned not to show my fear, and gradually I found that there really wasn't that much to fear. People weren't always out to hurt me. Well, some of them were, and are, but they're really the minority.

I don't remember when the last bit of the old fear went away. But sometimes I remember what it felt like, and I rejoice in being who I am today. I'm a person who's able to talk to strangers, to the people working the checkout counter at the local Coop store, the people at the restaurants where I eat more or less frequently, to the people at the hairdresser's where I get my hair cut. And they appear to like the person that I am, enough so that they remember me and seem pleased at my coming back. I even have friends, people I can trust with my life and my most private thoughts. I post in newsgroups where people seem to appreciate at least some of what I'm saying, and seem to miss me when I don't post for a while.

I need to remember the bad stuff. If I don't, then I risk not realising just how amazingly good the good stuff actually is.