excrutiatingly painful introspections

I had a close friend tell me today that I need to develop more of a social life.

I can come up with so many excuses as to why no, I really can't. My work hours don't allow me too many large, free blocks of time, and those I do have I spend with my children. Or working on my book, that I'm 2/3 of the way into finishing. Or maintaining the house, as I can't afford a housekeeper--a rare thing around here, apparently. Or making food, as I really don't eat out much due to the fact that I am allergic to soy and seem to have a gluten intolerance as well...and I am not a natural cook, so that is not something that comes easy to me and takes time.

I feel so very alone. I have felt more alone since I've been married than during any other time in my life. However, I have vowed to not make my marital relationship, or lack thereof, fodder for my blog so I will make that irrelevant.

My problem? As I have grown older I have grown excrutiatingly shy. I don't see myself as having anything in common with those around me and have no desire to be a part of the "alpha mom" society, those who feel they must push their children in every direction and make them try absolutely everything, running them around from soccer game to judo practice to scout meetings to Heaven knows what else while pulling their hair out in the process from the busy schedule. I can't. I work. Anyway, I want my children to figure out on their own what they would like to try and tell me, much like my sister and I did, and I do not want to push them into anything.

I don't let them play video games and they have strict television rules (which *includes*, I might note, Saturday morning cartoons...those will not destroy my children). I don't do battery operated toys. I just feel that I don't "fit in" with the general values around here, where it seems that everyone is trying to plan for their children's Hah-vahd education by the end of kindergarten.

I feel that I have met many people I currently know by trying to fit into a mold that is not me, and I have come to the realization that I have spent most of my life thus far doing just that. Why? Because I knew no other way. I wasn't given a choice. So I grew up believing the only way to be acceptable to others was to try to be what they wanted me to be, try to prove myself worthy of their attentions or their friendship or their love. That extended into my family relationships, trying to excel at everything and undertaking more and more, becoming a huge overachiever and a scholar, just to try to gain parental approbation and trust.

Today, as I sit and, in tears, try to wrap Christmas presents for my children, I realize that I have no self-esteem left. I don't feel like anybody would even want to get to know me because I no longer can make myself try to fit into everyone else's expectations. I also have exceptionally high expectations set for myself and cannot hold others to those same standards; that is, likewise, not fair.

What happened?

I used to be the principal violinist, the self-motivated Wonder Woman who traveled the world and sought out new experiences and flavors of Life, who was not afraid to laugh, love, lust, screw up, be independent, pursue friendships, pick up the telephone and call somebody just to talk, and take monumental risks. Granted, as one has children the sense of responsibility to the children requires moderation and alteration of certain behaviors, such as risk-taking. That is acceptable to me. But where the idea of independence once was such a positive in my life, it has now become one of intense loneliness. Nobody has time for conversations anymore and, instead of taking that at face value I take it personally, perhaps falsely (perhaps not) believing that what is really happening is that nobody wants to talk to me.

So--the blog-osphere. Why do I blog? Probably for the same reasons as most other bloggers...it's not so risky. It's a voiceless voice. I can put myself out there, not have high expectations for readers nor for readership, and not expect a return on all I put out. It is safe. I can be somewhat anonymous. I have made some acquaintances and a couple actual friends who I doubtfully will ever meet but...well, that's okay. I am who I am and what I choose to share is what people learn about me--if I am even read. If someone does not like what they read, I never have to deal with it. It's....easy. Hell of a lot easier than pen-palling ever was...

When I was a new mother of my 6 year-old daughter back in Oregon, a group of us naturally formed from the hospital in which we delivered. They became my friends, we could relate and giggle and be ourselves, with or without the babies with us, and be a great support system for each other. I moved East, out of necessity for a paycheck, within five months of meeting these phenomenal women. Desperately trying to find something similar and naively believing that it would, indeed, exist out here, I sought out various "groups". But you had to pay to be a member. And I thought, "Pay to have friends? No, not for me." So perhaps in that way I did isolate myself. I have since learned that is "the way" things are done around here, but oh well...not my cup of tea.

I almost fear I'm becoming agoraphobic. I almost aim to try to shop when stores are empty so as not have to deal with what I have come to find to be a generally impolite and impersonal public. Sometimes I feel like an ant simply wandering, trying not to interact with others yet fulfilling my personal purpose, much like that which was cinematically represented in Dalí/Buñuel's Un chien andalou; a rather grotesque and surrealist image but very true-to-life, nonetheless. I try not to go to the gym when a lot of others will be there. It's not that I'm ashamed of my body; I can be ashamedly narcisstic in all honesty. I just don't want to have to deal with people. I met my friend at a bar in a local restaurant one Friday night a while back. She couldn't come immediately, so I told her I'd meet her there. It was packed. So what did I do? I sat with my back to everyone, got a menu and tried to catch the eye of the bartender to place an order without being pushy (I wasn't sitting at the bar as I was alone and there was no room, anyway) and it took me a half hour just to do that. My self-confidence is gone. I can't just push in and take my turn; I must let everyone else go first...it is very Japanese of me (funny considering how not-Japanese I look!). I can't invite myself over to others' homes or just join in with activities; I must wait to be invited. That is partially fault of my upbringing: "Wait until you are asked." It is so hard for me to just appear when I have not been specifically invited...and yet, if someone just appears at my doorstep it evokes in me one of the greatest, warmest of feelings and I wish it would occur more often. I can't even get myself something to eat without being offered something first. I just can't.

I now own the camera. When my family reunites once a year, I take all the photos...and thus am never actually in any of the pictures. My own little way of erasing myself from history? Perhaps. But neither does anyone ever offer, and I will not ask.

So my next question is: How do I get beyond this, to not end up raising two mental cases who are afraid of their own shadows and who cannot be socially competent? My measure of success as a human is no longer who I am but rather how my children turn out. I don't seem to matter anymore.

Is that right?