I overhear some of the other mothers at school plan going to some zumba class and I walk home thinking, ‘there’s something wrong with me because I don’t want to be involved with these things the others like to do.’ One, it’s social. Two, it’s exercise. Both are painful.
I think about wanting to curl up at home, out of the way. But, I also think about not wanting to be lonely. And that gets me thinking about the friend I used to have. The one who would come and visit me. And it was gentle and easy. I didn’t have to try. Sometimes my friend would pick me up and we’d go for hot chocolate and a stroll in Bradgate park. Again, easy and gentle. Two introverts socialising. Such a difference.
This makes me cry and feel broken. One, that I’m not like these others, these extrovert exercisers. Two, I miss my friend. I was nothing to her. She doesn’t deserve my tears, but I hurt. I hurt. And I deserve them.
Introverts need interaction, too. But, it is that gentle sort. A visit to watch a film together. Music shared. A lazy drive. A quiet mutual rant to right the world.
No answer or cure for this. I’m not joining the zumba and my friend is never coming back.
My tears are justified.