I leave tomorrow to make the drive up to GC&SU. As always when I travel, I'm nervous and I don't want to go. Especially since I am going alone, I am nervous.
Once upon a time, I traveled alone without fear. From the age of 11 I learned to negotiate airplanes and long trips. It is only in the last 10 years -- since the onset of the depression -- that I've become more fearful of leaving my home, especially without my husband.
Once I am out there, I'll be fine. I always am. I'll come back to that girl I used to be, the one who could hop on a plane to go visit people she only knew from online conversation and phone calls, which I did more than once. I will remember who she was and I will adopt her ways again, perhaps even her attitude.
People wouldn't recognise in me a shy person, but I am. I cover it by being a little brash, a little loud, a little aggressive. I grew up in a family where shyness was not an option. Both my parents were outgoing people with jobs requiring work with the public. They had many friends and were well liked. A bookish, awkward, socially uncertain daughter just wasn't a concept they had. And there are facets of my personality that like the attention. It sometimes surprises me that I can be so comfortable on stage, singing or acting, and yet be so markedly uncomfortable talking to strangers in a social setting. Perhaps it's because the faceless audience, shrouded in darkness or by the blur of my poor distance vision (I never wear glasses on stage, for multiple reasons) isn't nearly as demanding as one person staring at me, making a half effort at conversation.
So, tomorrow I'll be elsewhere, seeing other things, talking to other people. For so many of you, this would be nothing, hardly worth the noting. You do it all the time. For me, this is an adventure.