The first weekend in June, Andy took me up to his hometown of Caspar, Wyoming, where we attended his niece's graduation party, and he introduced me to his family. I had never been to Wyoming before, so I got to cross another state off my list. Of course, I made Andy stop when we got to the state line, so he could take a picture of me by the "Welcome to Wyoming" sign.
We stopped at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere to get gas, get a snack, etc. I was wearing a shirt I had recently gotten at Old Navy, and across the front, it said, "Wild." I bought it because I liked the freedom that it represented. In my ATI days, I wasn't allowed to be wild. I was to be meek, quiet, demure, and the epitome of all things ladylike. I had to sit and speak and walk and behave in ways that were not natural to me. I had to tame myself. And I hated every minute. I felt like I was in a cage. I was being forced to live in a way I wasn't meant to live. It took me years to finally comprehend my freedom. So when I saw the shirt, I knew I wanted it. Let me tell you though- a shirt with the word, "wild" across it takes on a whole new, creepy meaning when an old bedraggled truck driver winks at you and says he likes your shirt. I stuck close to Andy after that, and decided not to wear the shirt around truck stops anymore!
Of course, meeting the family is always nerve wracking. But add to that the fact that my last experience with meeting the family of a significant other was painfully awkward, my anxieties were even higher than they should have been. Andy's family was nice and didn't pretend I wasn't there, so that at least was a step up!
Saturday, Andy and his mother taught me how to play poker, as that whole family grew up playing the game. That evening, Andy's brother, sister-in-law, and two of their (grown) kids came over to play. We played three games, and I actually didn't suck. It's amazing- three years ago, I could barely bring myself to play a game of craps in Las Vegas when my cousin Jeff paid for my entry. But I sat there and played three games of poker, over several hours, and just had fun, and was happy about not being the first person out every game. I even managed to talk to my parents about it without feeling like I'd done something wrong, or feeling that I needed to justify myself.
We weren't in Wyoming for long, but upon going home, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had managed to meet a bunch of new people and not entirely embarrass myself, not have a panic attack, and actually have a good time. I also learned a new game at which I'm not terrible, and was able to hold my own for a while. I went home with a little more confidence than I had when I left. And that's really what this move has been all about. Small steps towards regaining my confidence. Small steps towards healing from the past. Small steps forward. As long as I'm doing that, I'm doing well.
We stopped at a truck stop in the middle of nowhere to get gas, get a snack, etc. I was wearing a shirt I had recently gotten at Old Navy, and across the front, it said, "Wild." I bought it because I liked the freedom that it represented. In my ATI days, I wasn't allowed to be wild. I was to be meek, quiet, demure, and the epitome of all things ladylike. I had to sit and speak and walk and behave in ways that were not natural to me. I had to tame myself. And I hated every minute. I felt like I was in a cage. I was being forced to live in a way I wasn't meant to live. It took me years to finally comprehend my freedom. So when I saw the shirt, I knew I wanted it. Let me tell you though- a shirt with the word, "wild" across it takes on a whole new, creepy meaning when an old bedraggled truck driver winks at you and says he likes your shirt. I stuck close to Andy after that, and decided not to wear the shirt around truck stops anymore!
Of course, meeting the family is always nerve wracking. But add to that the fact that my last experience with meeting the family of a significant other was painfully awkward, my anxieties were even higher than they should have been. Andy's family was nice and didn't pretend I wasn't there, so that at least was a step up!
Saturday, Andy and his mother taught me how to play poker, as that whole family grew up playing the game. That evening, Andy's brother, sister-in-law, and two of their (grown) kids came over to play. We played three games, and I actually didn't suck. It's amazing- three years ago, I could barely bring myself to play a game of craps in Las Vegas when my cousin Jeff paid for my entry. But I sat there and played three games of poker, over several hours, and just had fun, and was happy about not being the first person out every game. I even managed to talk to my parents about it without feeling like I'd done something wrong, or feeling that I needed to justify myself.
We weren't in Wyoming for long, but upon going home, I felt a sense of accomplishment. I had managed to meet a bunch of new people and not entirely embarrass myself, not have a panic attack, and actually have a good time. I also learned a new game at which I'm not terrible, and was able to hold my own for a while. I went home with a little more confidence than I had when I left. And that's really what this move has been all about. Small steps towards regaining my confidence. Small steps towards healing from the past. Small steps forward. As long as I'm doing that, I'm doing well.
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