It’s 9:47 on Halloween night. I have spent the whole day pumping myself up about trick or treaters and passing out candy. I live in a town home and thought there would be a never ending flood of children running to our door. I couldn’t wait to see the costumes. I couldn’t wait to make jokes. I couldn’t wait to count the smiles on kids faces.
Then the first knock on the door hit and I froze. I told my dog to stop barking and hid in the laundry room.
I was in the middle of changing my pants when they knocked so cut me a little slack, but I didn’t rush to open the door either.
Later there was another knock! I did a little dance, RAN to the candy bowl, swung open the door and froze as a little dinosaur reached into my bucket and grabbed some candy. After wishing the cute Dino a happy Halloween, I closed the door and pumped myself up for the next knock on the door.
“Trick or treat” is yelled at the top of some five-year-olds lungs as I pass him the candy. He is thrilled. I forget what to say and shut the door.
I psych myself up again and again and finally by the last group of kids, I am laughing, joking, complimenting mustaches and feeling gold.
I have anxiety. I don’t know why my anxiety affects me this way. It makes me awkward and nervous and paranoid. But, if there is something I’ve learned in the last few years, it’s that anxiety can’t control me. I’m in charge of my actions and I am the one who chooses to keep pushing forward even when it would be easier to turn the light off, pretend not to be home and crawl into bed with the bowl of candy.
throughout SO MANY aspects of my life, I find the need to keep pushing no matter how difficult, awkward or annoying it may be. So many things in my life started out that way, in fact, I would say all things started out that way. I always start off shy and afraid, but after trying again and again and again and again and AGAIN, I finally get the hang of it and feel less like a (hallo)weenie.