More than words

8 May

I have always been of the opinion that there is little more important than the way we express ourselves through our use of language. Often I find myself severely lacking when it comes to the spoken word, stumbling over the simplest of statements even when I have an intricate knowledge of the topic. A few years ago, if you asked me to write an essay I could knock out a thousand words for you without stopping for coffee, but don’t ask me to present a five-minute speech. That would be a disaster in the making.

And I am somehow even more awkward when it comes to small talk.

I just suck at social interactions. I can feign interest in the most inane chatter and make the right comments or gestures at the right time, but for the love of god don’t ask me questions about myself or my life in return. I don’t like talking about myself. Of course, I will answer politely, and try not to bring the conversation to a grinding halt that means we have to sit in uncomfortable silence or pretend to check things on our phones. But I hardly see the value in talking just for the sake of talking.

In recent times there is most definitely a reason for it, as sitting back and listening to whatever anyone else is spouting rather than getting involved in genuine conversation creates so much less anxiety. But now that I’m finally feeling a bit more human and alive again, I want to enjoy my life and have meaningful contact with the outside world.

So tomorrow morning (all going well and as long as the kids sleep tonight), we are off to playgroup. The coordinator made it very clear that I don’t have to feel obliged to attend again if I find it unbearable, so goddamn I am going to give it a go. This will be our first time. I hope we all enjoy it and Liam and Ezri no longer have to miss out on things like this just because their mother struggles in social situations.


Excuse my babble, I just read it and there is no flow to it at all. Too tired, will try again tomorrow.

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