In dealing with my depression and anxiety, I’ve come to realize a plain, hard fact: recovery means doing A LOT of things I don’t want to do.
Case in point: I have a committee meeting tomorrow. And I want nothing more than to avoid it. Several weeks ago, I received an email request from a GLBT organization, asking if I’d like to volunteer for them. As I am gay, and I know the great work this organization does, it should have been a no-brainer to say yes. Ah, but here’s the rub. Volunteering involves dealing with people. And the storms in my head don’t like that very much. The only reason I DID say yes is because I’m in a cognitive behavioral therapy group that I really like, and you HAVE to commit to facing your fears. Otherwise, you’re out of the group.
So, I said I was interested, and I met with this organization’s very nice volunteer coordinator. She asked me about my background and my interests. I don’t even remember what I said, but she seemed to like what I said. Then, she mentioned what she thought would be the “perfect group” for me — the party planning committee.
I felt my jaw drop. I wanted to scream `Are you fucking kidding me?’. I know – normal people love parties, especially gay normal people. But I’m not normal, and I missed the gay party planning gene. I remember asking the coordinator if she had anything else that was needed at the moment. She said she didn’t. So I agreed to be on this committee — even though I know absolutely zilch about planning parties.
The well-respected doctor who runs my therapy group actually thinks this is a good thing. “It’s good to venture into unknown territory and try things that you may not be good at,” he told me. “You’re probably better than you think you are, or else this woman would not have suggested this. And you’ll be meeting and working with new people, too, so this is a big plus.”
I keep trying to tell myself this. I am going to this meeting tomorrow. But I’m scared. I’m scared that I won’t know what I’m doing. That everyone there will see right through me. That no one will think I’m attractive. (Yeah, that matters. I’m both insecure AND vain. Go figure.) In fact, I’m so scared that I invited a friend to come with me just for moral support. He said he would — and he’s not even gay.
Wish me luck, peeps in bloggerland. I need it. Oh, and some good party planning advice would be welcome, too.