Years ago, on my first foray into the wild world of the Adult Table at my family's Christmas Eve festivities, I found myself laughing inappropriately during a very somber toast/blessing delivered by my grandfather. Quickly realizing that the story regarding the infirmed was not being told in jest- and that there is very little funny regarding the infirmed...period- I went into shame mode for the rest of the night. Last night, I awoke at 2:43 a.m. in shame mode again. Remembering an inappropriate laugh that exploded from me during a recent toast during a wedding brought me back to my failed attempt at adulthood among my family members at the Christmas table years earlier. My social awkwardness had tarnished yet another good night's rest and chance at being 'appropriate' and adept at navigating the difficult terrain of adulthood (whether seated at the official table or not).
Each night this week, I have awoken between 2:30 and 3:00 a.m. to fret about my frequent fumbles and misspeaks. Each morning I attempt to rationalize that which a mid-summer-night's panic attack can not. I try to remember the lovely people who are in my life and seem to enjoy (tolerate?) me despite my incredible awkwardness, the times when I actually say something Important and Profound (extremely rare, but encouraging nonetheless), and the slim likelihood that others remember my awkwardness for the days/months/years that I remain embarrassed about them.
(Ir)Regardless, I am now exhausted. And, it should be noted, have been perpetually demoted to the 'young adults' table at Christmas time.
*Title was taken from an AWESOME Ani DiFranco song who, at age 19, was way more profound than I will ever be.
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