In order to pay for my
cocaine addiction college education, I work at a
ranch during the summers taking guests out on horseback rides. It. Sucks.
OK, it is the best summer job you could ask for, but my social anxiety
is getting to the point where talking to different groups of strangers at two
hour intervals all day every day is completely. Exhausting. I’m constantly worrying that I’ve said
something stupid or offensive or unintelligible or boring or any number of
other adjectives that shouldn’t be used to describe tour guides. And when I’m not with guests, I’m worried
that my coworkers hate me and only put up with me because they don’t have the
authority to fire me. And when I’m not
doing that, I’m… Oh wait. Yeah, I’m pretty much consistently worrying
about one of those things. So when I get
home at night, all I want to do is hide in my bedroom. But my family wants to spend time with
me. So I either find myself hiding from
them and feeling guilty or spending time with them and wishing I were hiding
from them and feeling guilty. Insert the
comma wherever it makes sense to you- I’m sure it applies. And you know your social anxiety is getting
worse when you get home from work and find yourself hoping your horse won’t
walk up to the fence hoping to be petted.
That happened today.