Weird friends

This post was made using voice recording on a phone.

Last night, Stephen and I saw our friends for the first time in what seems like forever. It's actually been just a month or so for a couple of them.

People usually wear me out. Nice, mean, outgoing, or introverted. They wear me out just being near them. It's hard to explain but, around others, there is this constant, massive pressure. Pressure to converse properly, behave uniformly, and otherwise pretend I'm normal.

And I'm not trying to say I'm some special, fancy unicorn by any stretch, just that my social brain is dysfunctional. I try to study others to see how to act or what to say. Somehow other people just seem so comfortable starting conversations and continuing them effortlessly.

When I hear my own voice, I cringe. I literally get embarrased and SO panicky. I freeze up. My hands get sweaty, my shoulders tense. When I'm not medicated, my throat closes, and my pitch gets higher as a result. I constantly feel like I'm messing up. Then I start self- flagillating, and that's where most of my depression came from. Just berating myself all day. I feel like my astronomic discomfort makes those around me uncomfortable too. I'm a menace to society, and it only ends up making me feel worse.

Anyway, the fact that my interests don't coincide with most people's is even more alienating. I don't seem to have much in common with anyone. The most emotional thing about getting my PKD diagnosis was that it meant I was even more different now. I have even less in common with others. It's such a freak- of- nature event. No one in my family has it. And PKD is rare, but still the most common life- threatening genetic disease. So I can find others, right? I did, but all they would ever talk ( whine) about is their PKD. They're so uninformed about their own illness. They didn't know anything, and they'd complain about everything.

Anyway, the only time I can get a break from the immense feelings of inadequicy and embarrassment is when I'm alone. There is, when I'm medicated, one exception: my friends. I still get really nervous beforehand, but when I see them, I finally feel like I belong. There is a very weird group of boys in the world who I can be mostly myself around.

I had an especially worthwhile experience yesterday. You know that dumb book about love languages? Can you guess what mine is? Touch. Yup, believe it. I think it's rather comical that the scardiest of scardy-cats, people- wise, needs to have physical contact with them!

Anyway, perhaps mostly because I'm married, my friends don't usually like physical contact. Hugs, being too close together, anything. But yesterday, one of them was situated between me and Stephen on the couch, and we were so close that a side of his body was in contact with a side of mine for hours! I think I was mostly happy because anyone felt comfortable enough around me to do that. I feel like I give of some kind of uncomfortable, repelling vibe. But there it was (this is especially weird to be excited about because I know he reads this blog. Sorry)!

I didn't get ignored or interrupted for the most part. We had so much fun playing games together. They get my humor. I appreciate theirs. Also, they're not afraid to have conversations about deep topics or weird hypotheticals. They're so smart and so weird. And I want to belong. I sometimes feel like I belong. That's more than I get anywhere else.