I have social anxiety, did I mention it?
Not just the usual stuff everyone says they have; I mean, I need a shower after saying “hello” to a stranger.
People are surprised by this because apparently I look like I have my shit together (except when my mouth gets going on its own and won’t listen to my brain’s instructions to STFU).
So sleepovers were a bit of an ordeal for me, growing up. I kind of hated them.
I didn’t want people staying in my room with me, and I didn’t want to go and sleep on my friends’ floors. But I also desperately didn’t want to be left out.
And so, off I’d go, and I’d concentrate very hard indeed on the movie we were watching AND what I was eating and drinking (too much? not enough? who knows?!) AND whether and how to join in any conversation AND worry about how sweaty I was.
While all the time, I’d yearn for one of the books I’d brought in my overnight bag at the same time as wishing I knew how to do this friendship thing properly.
And then, after all that, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to go to the loo and find my friend staring right at me in the dark like some kind of poltergeist.
That particular friend used to sleep with her eyes open. So creepy. Still have nightmares about that.
Anyway, that’s my memory of sleepovers.
One good thing though—the first time I ever watched Dirty Dancing was at a sleepover and I LOVED it so there’s that!
Your prompt for today: did you have sleepovers? Did you go to them? What are your memories?
Set a timer for 5 minutes and crack on.
p.s.Connect with me on Instagram and share your experience with the community. Share your writing if you want to—we’d love to read it! Tag @tinybeetlesteps and follow the hashtags #moxieMARCH and #tinybeetlesteps
Notes in the Margin
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