"You want to marry me, don't you?"
The words were out of my mouth before I had even finished the thought.
It was March 29, 2006. What was I thinking? We'd only been dating, maybe, 3 months. And here I was blurting out the first thing that came into my head.
We were standing in the cold, snow falling lightly around us, while we admired the Sundance Resort in Utah. Somehow the words had came into my mind so forcefully and truthfully that I couldn't stop myself from saying them. I knew they were true, just like I knew he loved me before he'd ever said it.
Luck was on my side that night. He chuckled and replied, "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I do. But we have time for that. What about you?" I could barely nod as I said, "I think I want to marry you too."
I thought at the time that it wasn't a true proposal. No one had gotten down on one knee with a ring but it had definitely defined the rest of our relationship. From that moment on, we knew what we were working towards.
Not too long after, I took him down to Arizona to meet my parents. They loved him right away. But the true test in my book was the 10 hours spent driving there, the 3 days with my family and the 10 hours driving back. As we pulled into his driveway after that extremely long weekend I realized I still wasn't done being near him. I adored his company above all others and he had truly become my best friend. It was a major eye-opener for me and a test of our relationship.
The official proposal with the ring came a few months later. It was sweet and mostly unexpected. He had even called my father for permission.
Like I said, the later proposal was sweet but I still recall most fondly that cold, snowy night when I couldn't keep my thoughts to myself. That's when I knew I could spend eternity with this man.
I've talked about this before, how being a mom, every day, hour, minute, can be a struggle. Luckily for me , my medications have been working and, except for a week after Christmas, things have been going well for about 8 months.
I'm doing well {knock on wood}. Well enough that I've even begun looking forward to situations I usually shy away from. I'm not 100% in every circumstance but the anxiety has gone way down.
Except for Sundays.
That day seems to be the exception to every anxiety rule I follow. And it mainly centers around church. It just about breaks me every week.
On Saturday nights I give myself a pep talk; you can do this, it's only 3 hours of church! Then we get there and the panic attacks start threatening. I am certain of where it comes from and I hate to place blame but -
It's Everett.
I know he's only three and a half and still learning how the world works around him but that first 70 minutes of time before Sunday School is like a waking nightmare. His boundless energy and independence is the exact antithesis of what is required to sit still and be reverent for that long. We've tried explaining what Sundays are all about but all he understands is that, eventually, he gets to play with his friends. So the first bit with talks and songs seems like an eternity for him.
And us.
I understand that it's just this stage and this too shall pass and he'll never be this age again so enjoy it, etc.
I get it. But Sundays are supposed to be a recharging day for me and instead it just starts the week out on a misstep.
My anxiety finally starts to calm by Sunday School but then flares again as church ends and I have to chase Everett as he runs wild around the building. By the time we get home I'm so frustrated and overwhelmed I just need space and a nap. Instead, it's time for dinner, baths and bedtime routines. All of which is a fight because his adrenaline is still up. By the time 7pm rolls around and the kids are finally in their beds, if not asleep, and I have a minute to think, it's always the same thought -
Why are Sundays so HARD?
They're supposed to be a day of peace and contemplation. Not hard feelings, exasperation and panic attacks.
So I'm making a pledge to be better on Sundays. Me. Not Everett. He's going to be the same no matter how I feel. He's him and I can't control his emotions. But I can control mine and how I react to him.
We're going to a different church schedule now that will begin at 9am instead of 1pm. I'm hoping that means I'll still be fresh and awake, ready for whatever Sunday wants to throw at me. Because I am in charge of my thoughts and actions. My anxiety is not my master. And each week I'll do a little better because, sometimes, a little better is all it takes.
Let me make something clear. This is not a cry for
help or meant to be a woe-is-me post. More of just an observation two
people had about their lives.
Today I had an interesting conversation with a good friend of mine. The subject was on making new friends. And not just any new friends, but close friends. She lives in Arizona, in a new house, with a new church family, new everything. She made the observation that by our stage of life, most people (especially women) have already found their close friends. Their tribe. Their support through the good and bad and mundane.
This can make it hard to interweave yourself into that established group when everyone already knows their parts.
Now don't misunderstand. I have some very close friends. Who happen to live not so close. One's in Phoenix, one in Canada and one, though in Utah, is 40 minutes away. These three amazing women have been my friends for an average of 15 years. I don't get to see these awesome ladies nearly as much as I wish. We text or Facebook and sometimes write letters. But it's definitely not the same as having them in your house.
And there's the rub. I've known these women for YEARS. Am I past the stage where finding new life-long friends is over?
That's where I hit a snag.
We've been in Utah almost two years and in our new house a year and a half. And I still haven't made any very close friends. It might have something to do with the fact that I'm home all day and making new friends is hard when you almost never leave the house. However, I have been making a concerted effort. I've joined two book clubs and have attended most church activities.
But it still feels more like Facebook "friends" or acquaintances than bosom friends, as Anne Shirley would say. And Facebook makes it really easy to keep people as acquaintances.
Am I past the age where making fast friends was fast and easy? I know that I'm must more introverted than I was 20 years ago. That's just a fact. And I'm sure my crippling social anxiety also plays its part. But there has to be an easier way of doing this. Am I making it too complicated?
If you're in the same boat, I'd love to know. I know we can't be the only ones who feel like this.
