Sometimes, we all do embarrassing things. Sometimes, we can’t even think about those things later without cringing. Although, we so seldom actually take notice of others walking into poles (without the distraction of a cellphone). And, if we do, we rarely think about the accident for years or judge the injured too harshly.
However, I always thought everyone noticed everything I did, judged the shit out of me and remembered forever.
Until recently, for years after something happened, I’d have to push the memory away before it was fully formed in my brain because it was so painful to think about.
In Grade 8, I was walking down the hallway and the boyfriend who had dumped me the night before (over MSN) was walking towards me. In an attempt to look casual and also too busy to take notice of him, I stretched my arms up, up, up and feigned a yawn. Not really the smoothest move to begin with, but a lot less so considering I had massive, dark sweat stains around the pits of my light grey sweater. Thinking about that for years after, I used to shudder and have to fight back tears of embarrassment.
More than a decade removed, it’s pretty hilarious. Oh, little Meg. So silly.
My bud Tony joined me on this week’s episode of Ramblings of an Anxious Mess to chat about the strange things we’ve done because of anxiety. Most of this stuff is recent and most of it is hilarious. At least, we’re choosing to laugh about it.
I don’t want to spend my life being mortified by my own weirdness, especially since I am a pretty odd little duck. So, I choose to laugh at myself.
Here are some strategies I use.
Picture it from another person’s perspective: I did walk into a pole once while out with a dog. I wasn’t on my phone. I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was sober, it was light out and I had had my morning coffee. I wasn’t even really looking anywhere but straight ahead. I was just so lost in my head, I walked into the pole. My first instinct was to run home and hide. Instead, I looked around for someone who had seen it. I wanted to laugh with them. No one saw, and I was a little disappointed that only I got a chuckle out of it. Although, I did spend the rest of my walk with Naomi laughing, out loud, at myself and trying to picture what happened.
Use it as comedic material: As I held the door open for the caretaker of my building, he wished me a happy new year and reached his arms out for a hug. My hand made contact with the sleeve of his jacket before I realized he wasn’t going for a hug; he was putting his hand on the door. I looked down and ran. I fucking ran. And then avoided him until he was no longer the caretaker. But, I told everyone I knew. I still tell that story when I think someone could use a laugh. Others use it as well. That bit made it far in early 2016 and spread cheer through dreary post-holiday season Winnipeg.
Imagine it happened to a friend: Hearing about friend’s doing stupid shit is as entertaining as hearing about single friends’ dating lives. Even though it sounds a little bit awful, you’re jealous that’s not your life. You’re also excited to have the hilarious story to focus on and tell others about, kind of how my friends spread the story of me almost hugging the caretaker. However, when it’s your story, you get to tell it. A friend of mine once accidentally pepper sprayed herself. I was there. It was fucking awesome. Except that she was in pain and is a little over me telling everyone the story. If it happened to me, I wouldn’t feel like a jerk for every time I fall over laughing about that. Or for publicly sharing it here. But, guys, it was awesome.
Those are my non-anxiety related embarrassing stories, but on my podcast, Ramblings of an Anxious Mess, my buddy Tony joined me to share some of our most embarrassing anxiety related stories. We’re wildly hilarious and weird. I highly recommend you listen to our stories. And, maybe, you could be a brave little toaster too and share yours? Let’s all giggle together and pretend we don’t have issues with anxiety. We’re just really, really funny. Right?
Originally published on my website.
Published by Meg Crane