Partying with Anxiety

The Invite

A Halloween house party where all his friends from back home will be and his brother's band is playing. What if someone gets drunk and stupid? Or violent and stupid? Or drunk and violent? The possibilities of uncomfortable situations are endless. What if his friends don't like me? What if I can't find a costume that I feel comfortable in? Are we going to have to stay over there with people I don't know?

The Costume

Will it fit right? Will I look like I'm trying too hard to be cute? Oh god, my boobs look huge in this dress. Do I look slutty? Is that my ass hanging out? Oh my god, the tights are loose. Loose tights look like pajamas. I look ridiculous. Seriously, is that my ass? I have to put on makeup. I hate makeup. Does that look bad? Ugh, why is my lipstick so flaky? Why am I already sweating? My hair is so frizzy. Why won't my bangs cooperate? Oh my god, is that a pit stain? Are these shoes going to make my feet hurt? Should I carry my purse with me or leave it in the car? Is the cape too much? What about this necklace? Oh my god this makeup is so old. I probably shouldn't be using it anymore. What happens when you use old makeup? Am I going to get a weird eye disease from this stupid eye shadow? Why do I bother when I wear glasses anyway? God, everyone's going to think I look stupid and fat.

The First 45 Minutes

It's loud. I smell pot and sweat and cigarettes and booze and people. There's a dog, oh thank god. I scritch the dog's head and talk to it in cute puppy voice for a moment. It's a Pug dressed as R2D2. Maybe this place won't be so bad. Holy shit, are those people in black face? Oh my god. What is happening? Oh and there's a scary clown. And another one. And another one. Awesome. It's dark too, despite the orange lights, black lights, rotating disco lights. I meet the host, he's nice. He owns the Pug. I have no idea who anyone is. Standing awkwardly with the black face people and a girl dressed in a Spiderman onesie. No one is talking. I see a punch bowl and investigate. Scary Clown Girl tells me it's 'lethal'. I pour half a cup and take a sip. It's horrible so I drink it fast. Woo. Immediately I'm too warm and we go outside. Maybe someone will share their pot with me.

Outside

I say hi to the girl that loaned me the costume and she exclaims how adorable I am. I'm just grateful it fit and I didn't have to scramble to find something else. I take some relief in standing next to people I know. I tell her she smells like pot and the girl next to her asks if I smoke. I nod and the joint is passed. I inhale and cough like a rookie. The conversation changes as the joint gets passed around to others near us. I notice a girl next to me dressed in an intricate corset and have to compliment her. The pot is taking the edge off. She's talking to the Spiderman onesie chick when I ask to see the whole outfit. She is super friendly but then... Was I rude to Spiderman Onesie for interrupting? Should I apologize? I'm nervous now so I get overly nice and when I say I'm sorry she doesn't care. It's a party and people talk and interrupt and share stories and they don't know that I'm super conscious of being nice to everyone so they'll like me and not talk about me or judge me or think that I'm ugly, stupid or annoying.

Spiderman Onesie turns back to the group of girls and I swear I hear the word 'bitch' when I walk by. Was that directed at me? Was I too nice? Maybe I should have just stayed quiet.

I get introduced to people that are friends with The Fella. A Scary Clown hugs me and another guy offers me shrooms. He asks me if I have anxiety and tells me they're great for that. How does he know I have anxiety? Is it that obvious? Oh god, am I acting weird? I say no to the shrooms and he gives me some anyway. Time to go back in.

The Band

The Fella's brother is in a punk band but tonight they're doing covers. I recognize one song out of the eight. I watch everyone else bobbing their heads to the beat, screaming out lyrics and I stay in the back of the crowd, moving once in awhile to let other people, confident people, past me to the front. I feel the music through my feet and into my chest, blooming there, massaging my insides. I let myself move a little, bob my own head and then I stop. Everyone is looking at me aren't they? They know I don't know the words. They can tell I don't fit in. The band finishes their set and the crowd disperses. I'm headed back outside to try and regain my hearing when a guy does the 'oh excuse me' bump me in the hallway thing and it's over before I can even utter a 'that's ok'. Did he just do that on purpose? Because I'm so big I take up the whole hallway? He was making fun of me right? Because he couldn't get past me?

Outside Again

The Girl in the Corset is talking to The Fella, his brother and the Scary Clown that Hugged Me. We banter. A guy in a baseball jersey comes up to the perimeter of our small group and tells us our conversation is boring before he moves off. The pot and the weird punch from earlier have made things a little easier but I have no idea what we're talking about. The Girl in the Corset is talking about something that involves a sacrifice and suddenly I'm feeling weird about things. She tells me I'm innocent. Wait. Am I acting childish? Do I seem naive? Did she notice I don't know what she's talking about? She's looking at me strangely. She must think I'm an idiot but the pot is making it hard to care anymore and I like that.

Coming Home

We say goodbye to The Fella's brother, his girlfriend, Scary Clown that Hugged Me and the Girl in the Corset. When we get to the car I remove my cape and toss it in the trunk, put on a sweatshirt. I don't have to care about if I'm cute anymore. I don't have to wonder if I'm being too nice or not nice enough. I'm with The Fella and I'm safe.

I play the party over in my head on the way home. I hear the girl mutter 'bitch' and wonder again if it was towards me. I feel the guy bump me in the hall and wonder if he really was trying to cop a feel like The Fella thought or if I was just too wide for the hallway. I see the guy hand me shrooms, tell me to take them when I'm feeling anxious and wonder again if it's that obvious to strangers. I see Spiderman Onesie move away from the conversation and look annoyed when I apologize for interrupting her.

I watch The Fella maneuver through traffic, his face holding a small smile.  His friends were so happy to see him. Throughout the night people were coming up and hugging him, asking him how he was. It's even more obvious to me that he's a good guy and that I'm a lucky girl. He knew I was nervous about the party and never left my side. He introduced me to people and made sure I was part of conversations. He knew that later, as I was talking about the night, saying things like, "I think he mentioned anxiety because he had it, not because it seemed like you did." and "Not everyone knows about neo-paganism...I like that you ask questions instead of pretending that you know all about something." was the right thing to say. He took all the anxiety that had built throughout the evening and made it melt away. I settled back into my seat and watched him drive.  It started raining and we rode in silence, listening to the drops hit the roof. I felt calm, a little sleepy from the mystery punch and the pot, but relaxed. And proud. I went to a party where I didn't know anyone, where anything could happen and in a costume that I wasn't sure about. I conquered a little bit of The Worry that lives inside me. At least for a little while and I'm so glad I did.

One day, one party, one conversation, one costume at a time.