An unexpected consequence- Staying in is the new going out
I’ve always been someone who’s up for going out - drinks after work, live music, celebrating any little occasion. I’m not the life and soul of the party or anything but I’d be there, and often have the hangover to prove it. Nights out have though become a bit less frequent since life became Robyn 🔟 - 0️⃣ Sleep!
A strange feeling for me over the last few months has been feeling nervous about going out - particularly ‘out out’.
If its family or close friends then I’m fine. Introduce the prospect of people I don’t know, or a night in a bar, then the anxiety starts to creep in. And to be honest sometimes I just flat out don’t want to go. Such an alien feeling to me, and one that has surprised me.
I read something about the importance of feeling safe when recovering from trauma or suffering a loss, and that really resonated with me. I feel a certain vulnerability but I don’t want to let it beat me, something I need to work a bit harder on.
An example…
I was meant to go out into town a couple of weeks ago for a close friends birthday. There would be some good friends there, people who have really shown up for me over the last few months, but there would also be people I hadn’t met. It was a Saturday night, rugby day in Cardiff. You get the picture. In the end I didn’t go because Robyn had the dreaded pox. But I’m sad to admit that from days beforehand I was already questioning it, feeling uncomfortable and quietly totting up the reasons why I ‘couldn’t’ go, rather than the reasons why I could, and should. Turns out the birthday girl peaked a bit early and went home so I wouldn’t have even seen her if I did go. I’ll mention no names…
Theres also something about having a level of control. I knew I was being ‘weird’ is what I’d call it about what I did and didn’t agree to in the summer months. Again a conversation with my counsellor helped me understand that I’d been through something where all control was taken away from me - control of my body, my health, my children. And I was trying to regain some agency of my own life.
This week I’m going for a Christmas lunch. A small group of friends from work, it’s in the afternoon, I’ve been to the restaurant before, I need to leave in time to pick Robyn up, so I’ll just have one glass of wine. I feel like that’s all ok and doable without too many nerves. Rock and roll eh?
I never thought I’d feel uncomfortable and nervous about going out with my friends, or that I’d even need to consider feeling ‘safe’.
Another quirk of what we’ve been through. I’m guessing and hoping that this is something else that will gradually fade over time.
(Now I’ve written this down I feel like a bit of a doughnut for not talking to my friends about it more. Mark and I have said from the start that we can’t ask people to support us through this if we don’t tell them what we’ve been through, or what we’re feeling. So, sorry for any weirdness guys.)
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