The Unfortunate Double Standard of Texting With Anxiety

Right off the bat, I want to start by pointing out that I can only speak to MY experiences. Not everyone with an anxiety disorder or who fights with anxiety has the same thoughts or feelings. Someone may read this and think, "Yeah, some of that kinda sounds like me!" Someone else might read it and go, "Damn, that's messed up. I have anxiety and I've never felt like that!" It should go without saying, but not everyone with anxiety is identical in how their anxiety manifests, how they handle it, how they think about it...  But I digress.

We won't even get into rotary phones...

I've never been huge on phone calls. Sure, I did some of the teenage girl thing where I'd be on the phone for hours at a time talking about nothing at all, but it was never comfortable or natural. I paced a lot, which is a lot harder when you have a corded phone. (If you're too young to have experienced this, just imagine that your cell phone had to be plugged into the wall charger ALL THE TIME - the horror!). Once I got a cordless phone, I would wander outside and hop on the swingset or just wander around the house. Sitting still wasn't really an option if I was on a call that lasted more than about five minutes.

It's also worth pointing out that the vast majority of these calls were made TO me, not BY me. I'll get to why this is important later, but very rarely have I ever gone, "Man, I should just call up what's-her-bucket and chat for a while!" Odds were also good that one of my parents answered the phone first and handed it off to me; the only time I answered the phone of my own volition was when no one else was home and I was worried it might be a call about my parents, which is another part of my childhood anxiety we don't have time for in this post.

("Why not let the machine get it?" you may ask. Easy. My parents believed that "if it's important, they'll call back" so it was FOREVER before we even had one. Like, we skipped the whole type of machine that had the tape you had to rewind. Our very first answering machine had multiple "inboxes" and was completely digital. And while my parents said it was more about dad's work, I still think that the biggest reason we got one was that I kept using *69 to find out if anyone had called for me while I was gone. Again, if you're too young for this reference... I don't know, go find someone who was alive and using phones in the 90s and ask them to regale you with stories of the world of old.)

I got my first cell phone when I was 20 and I'm pretty sure I sent my first text that very day. Kids, this was back in the day when not only was texting a major pain in the ass, it was also pretty costly. Phone plans gave you a certain number of texts each month and anything beyond that cost extra. I'm here to tell you that a phone aversion + pay-to-play texting = money problems. In fact, my phone bills were a big reason I couldn't put enough money away to return to school back in 2005 and led me down my

While not my 1st phone,
I totally had this bad boy
for quite some time.
#RIPcingular

current life path, so... Stay in school? No, that's not the point here. Moving on.

Texting was expensive and I was, well, not exactly swimming in excess cash. So once my text limit was reached each month, I got used to taking phone calls with certain important people in my life. Again, they mostly called me instead of the other way around, but the freedom of being able to wander while talking allowed me to work out some of that nervous energy and I was able to stand it for a bit.

These days, texting (or any version of "instant" messaging) seems to be just part of daily life for the majority of us. (Hell, my parents text, and my dad is the guy who used to pride himself on the fact that all he knew about our home PC was how to turn it on and off.) And while I'm much better about using the phone these days (yay therapy!), texting is still my preferred method of communication.

Remember when I mentioned that most of the time people had/have to call me instead of the other way around? (It was several paragraphs ago, so if you don't remember or don't want to go back that far, just take my word on it.) I constantly worried that I would be interrupting something or that my call would be unwelcome or annoying in some way. Basically, I didn't think anyone wanted to hear from me, because if they did, wouldn't they have called me? Yes, I'm aware of the flaws in that way of thinking. Yes, I'm aware that most people just don't answer right away if they're inconvenienced or don't want to talk. But for some reason, my anxiety convinces me that I'm going to be a bother to whoever I'm calling.

The same applies to texting. With VERY few exceptions (mostly my bestie and my sister), I am extremely hesitant to send an unsolicited, unprompted text message to most people I know. Circumstances make no difference. We could literally have been texting up a storm the day before, but today is a new day, and maybe today you don't want to deal with me, so... I should probably just leave you alone. The rational part of me goes, "Dude, if they're busy or don't want to chat with you, they'll just ignore it. It's fine." Then anxiety comes back with, "But how do I know if they're ignoring me because they're busy or if it's because they don't want to talk to me anymore?? If I don't text, then I don't have to worry about that!"

Yes, I realize how fucked up that is.

So, what makes texting such a double standard for me? The fact that I LOVE getting messages from the people in my life. Nothing puts a smile on my face like hearing from people I care about. I don't care if we haven't spoken in months; if you send a random AF text, my heart will be oh so happy. It doesn't even have to be like, "OMG, it's been too long and I miss you. We should totally talk sometime soon!" Honestly, it could just say, "Sup?" and I'd be genuinely psyched just to hear from you.

2 words can say SO much more

Plus, I worry. I know that's beyond obvious, but sometimes I think people underestimate the levels of worry that I can reach. And, my apologies to those of you in my texting circle... the more frequently we send messages, the worse the worry can get. For example, if I don't hear from my bestie in a few days (or, sometimes, a few hours), I start getting concerned. Is she okay? Did I say something to piss her off? Is her family okay? What did I do wrong? Are we still friends? WHAT DID I DO?!

Alright, I know that seems a little (or a lot) crazy, but that's anxiety. On a bad day, I can end up doubting that my bestie even wants to be friends with me anymore just because I haven't heard from her. This is my hetero lifemate. My person. My piece of corn (sorry, that one's an inside joke). Of fucking COURSE she's my friend! She's my BEST friend. Thankfully (yet, unfortunately), she understands the insecurities and insanity of anxiety and never hesitates to remind me that I'm a dummy if I think she's going anywhere.

And yet, ask her if I've ever apologized to her for "bugging" her with a message. Or saying something like, "Sorry, I'll let you go. Didn't want to bother you." Because the answer is yes. I haven't done it so much lately (we made a deal where we're not allowed to apologize to one another for such things; I'm doing my best to stick to it), but I absolutely have said sorry for texting MY BEST FRIEND. And at the same time, I would NEVER want her to apologize for messaging me, no matter the context or content. How could she ever be a bother to me?

There you have it. I'm constantly worried I'm bothering people with my texts, but my own heart soars when I hear that little ding. Someone's thinking of me! Someone wants to talk to me! Someone likes me enough to engage me in conversation! YAY!! I'm trying to turn that thinking back around; mightn't other people be happy to hear from me, just as I'm happy to hear from them? It's really hard to challenge negative thoughts, but I am actually trying.

Just the other day I was worried about bothering someone who was having a rough day, but then I thought, "Hmmm, if I was having a tough time, I'd really appreciate a text..." And so, I texted. A small but important victory, IMO. (Okay, so I've already since apologized for bothering the same person with a different text... baby steps, Bob! BABY STEPS!) Someday, I won't need to talk myself through that; for now, all I can do is keep trying.

Phew! This got a lot longer than I meant, so if you're still reading... Well, I won't apologize. You made the choice to keep reading, and I appreciate it. Thank you. :)

Riki's History Part 4: Depressed & Desperate

Even after the past three entries, I know this one is going to be the worst.  I'm reliving some seriously messed up stuff and I honestly look back at my life and wonder how I let it get to that point.  The best I can do is try to learn from the past and keep moving forward.

So, when we left off, I was about to leave college for the second time and had met Shane.  Shane was a 19 year old guy I met online.  He was from Missouri, and we had a few things in common.  At college, I didn't date much (or really at all; I was seeing one girl for awhile, but nothing really came of it), so the attention I got online (AOL, baby... I'm that cool) made me feel special.  There were a few guys I IM'd with frequently, but Shane was my favorite.

After I had gone home, my parents insisted I get a job.  I half-heartedly looked, thinking I'd be back for the spring semester, but it wasn't to be.  For a couple of weeks, I lived with my best friend L and her family because I just couldn't take my own family anymore.  "You're breaking your mother's heart, you know," my dad told me.  I knew.  But at the time, I just needed to get out.  On top of this, I had stopped taking my anti-depressants.

The first time we talked on the phone (January 2005), Shane had told me he would sound funny, something about altering his voice.  It should've been a ginormous flag, but I just figured he was being goofy.  That's what we did!  We had fun and flirted and laughed.  Shortly thereafter, I finally got a part-time job.  A few weeks in, I bought my very first cell phone so I could talk to Shane any time I wanted.  By that summer, I was racking up some hefty phone bills (mostly because of texting).

I considered Shane my boyfriend.  I talked to him more than anyone else I knew, and we had such great conversations.  Most of the time.  Sometimes it felt like he wanted me to do nothing but sit around at home and talk to him or (in his absence) think about him or just do nothing.  One time that bothered me in particular was my 21st birthday.  He didn't want me to go out to drink, but there was no way I was missing out on hitting the bars for the first time.  Between texts and phone calls, he kept bugging me all night until I finally stopped responding.

A few times we had broken up (the first time having been a few weeks before my 21st birthday) and then gotten back together.  We were in love, and someday we would get to be together in person.  The drama kept mounting, though.  Hindsight, of course, is 20/20, and looking back, I can't believe how gullible I let myself be.  I believed all kinds of things. 

Want an example?  Once, I believed that he was at a water park and hit his head, giving him some form of amnesia.  I learned this through texts that were supposed to be from his friend telling me this, and warning me that Shane might not remember me.  I was devastated (K probably remembers this; we were over at D's for movie night, I think) and didn't know what to do.  Miraculously enough, everything ended up OK and Shane was fine.

Every day, every week it got harder and harder.  One day we'd be happy and all would be well.  The next we'd be fighting or breaking up and I'd be sure my life was over.  For awhile, we were "engaged" and were planning to get married in a few years.  I even started picking out dresses and rings online (it's the closest I ever got to dreaming of my wedding before I got engaged to Hubby).

For a year this all went on.  My friends thought I would be better off without him.  I know my parents thought so.  But he was the only person I was certain loved me at that point in my life.  I didn't get to go back to school that fall (I hadn't earned enough money for my parents to give the OK), and soon I found out that my sister (K) was moving across the country.  Nothing felt right except for Shane.

So, naturally, that's when my world came crashing down.

In November 2005, more than a year after I'd first "met" him, Shane called to say there was something important we had to talk about.  20-year-old Shane was in fact a 15-year-old girl (we'll call her Girl X).  Her parents had found out about how she had been lying to me (and them) and made her own up to things.  As I talked to her mom and things unraveled, everything started making sense.

The reason "Shane" was always at the local high school ("he" told me he worked there, but Girl X was really a student there).  All the times I heard people call her by her real name (a unisex name).  The extravagant stories meant to force us to break up because she couldn't simply do it.  The excuses for why we couldn't meet (because she wasn't who I thought), and the "altered" voice (in my defense, she had a very gender-neutral sounding voice over the phone). 

Girl X wasn't to contact me anymore, but she did.  She apologized and told me that she really did love me.  And being as depressed and desperate as I was, I kept talking to her because I loved her, too.  I don't care about gender (it's one of the perks to being bisexual, I guess).  A body is just a body; I was in love with the person inside and the body wasn't even a factor.  We secretly kept talking for a day or two until her dad found out.  At that point, it came down to this: Either I stopped contacting Girl X, or they were going to essentially flag me as a child predator and things would've gotten U-G-L-Y.  I opted for the former.

She kept trying, though.  I'd get texts, but I kept ignoring them.  Her or her friends would keep emailing me or IM'ing me.  Within a week, I changed my phone number.  I had blocked her on AOL, along with all her "friends."  At least once she tried to trick me into talking to her.  I had gotten an IM and was chatting with some guy when things started getting weird.  It dawned on me that it must've been her, and I said goodbye and blocked that name, too.  A few years later, I think she might have tried again, but I can't say for sure.  The last time I know I talked to her was 6 and a half years ago.  

This whole thing sounds insane.  I'm aware.  It's hard to believe that I didn't see the signs, right?  You only see what you want to see sometimes, and all I wanted was someone who loved me and made me feel worthwhile.  I sometimes suspected that maybe "Shane" was in high school, but I figured maybe he was a senior and just didn't want me to write him off as being too young.  Never did I suspect he was female, nor that she was only 15. 

At first, I missed her.  Terribly.  My best friend/sister was moving away, I'd lost the person I loved, and I was feeling utterly alone.  But as time went on, I realized that she had lied to me for a year, and instead of being sad, I was just plain old pissed off.  Mostly, I think, at myself for being so trusting, so blind to everything.  I was embarrassed and hurt, and I told very, very few people the truth about what happened.  Now you all know the truth.

My depression and low self-esteem can't take all of the blame for what happened, I know, but they played a pretty major role in things.  Had I been a happier, more confident person, I wouldn't have been spending my entire life online talking to strangers who (at least seemingly) accepted me without question.  I probably would have found more joy in the world around me, I might not have felt like the only way someone could love me was without having to be physically with me, and maybe I could have found happiness in loving myself instead of seeking someone else's love.

So You're Going To A Concert...

I was recently asked what my concert "rules" would be.  After some thought, the following are some suggestions I have to help make everyone's concert-going experience a bit better.

• If you're going to show up late, make sure you do so appropriately.  At concert venues like The Rave in Milwaukee, it's not really a problem to show up late.  People often move around to visit the bars, check out merch and whatnot, so it's not much of a disturbance.  Just be aware that you may not get the best view of the stage.  If you're attending a concert with assigned seats or visiting a nicer/less informal venue, try to be a bit stealthier.  Or, at minimum, make sure your entrance doesn't sound like a herd of elephants running from a giant pack of rodents.
• Dress appropriately.  I remember getting dressed up (in some sense) for concerts when I was younger, so I get it.  But seriously?  Consider a few things when dressing for a concert:
• No matter what you wear, the likelihood that the artist is going to see you and fall madly in love with you is slim to none.  It's nice to dream, but reality has to kick in sometime, kids.
• You have to deal with whatever you choose to wear.  If it's 20 degrees outside and you're dressed up in a mini skirt and heels, I don't want to hear you complaining that it's cold.  (Of course it's cold!  Did you think you were going to be magically transported from your car into the venue?  Doubtful.)  Also, if you dress like a skank and get hit on all night, don't act surprised or grossed out.  You wanted the attention, you got it.  Basically, the moral is: You chose it, you live with it.  Period.
• Hats are OK if you plan to stay toward the back of the crowd, but otherwise, just leave it at home.  You might think it makes you look cool or fit in with the crowd, but odds are someone is going to secretly hate you because your hat is blocking their view.  This goes for big hair, also.  
• Being drunk is fine; being drunk and obnoxious is not.  I have no problem if you want to get a bit drunk and listen to some awesome music.  Have fun!  But once you reach the point of obnoxious, take my advice and stay by the bar.  If you start screaming, dry humping, bumping into people, etc, the likelihood that you're going home short a few teeth is going to increase.  Most of us paid to see the show.  If our experience is ruined because you just had to push your limits, we might just push back.  And if you're really so horny that you have to get it on RIGHT NOW, take it to your car.
• If you aren't interested in the show, shut the hell up.  Maybe you're bored because you don't know the opening act or because you're "forced" to be there as a chaperone for your teenie-boppers.  It happens, I get it.  But that does NOT mean that you should try to have a full-blown conversation above the music.  Here's a shocker: People around you might actually be interested in what's going on!  I'm not saying everyone should be silent, but shouting to one another about the mundane details of your life isn't going to endear you to anyone.
• As a side note to this, phone conversations at a concert aren't only rude, they're pointless.  The person on the other end of the convo probably can't understand what you're saying or hear you over the music/crowd/etc.  If your phone rings and you HAVE to answer, step into a stairway or something.  Shouting, "What?!  WHAT?!" into your phone is just as disruptive as shouting at the person next to you.
• Last, but not least: Be appreciative.  Don't take any concert for granted; you never know if you'll get the opportunity again!  Artists are busy, and they have a lot of places they'd like to (or have to) be, but right then and there, they are playing for you.  Soak it in!  If you can't appreciate the work that goes into shows, then you're better off watching DVD specials and youtube clips.

What are your concert-going rules?  Anything vital that I missed?  Let me know!

Hump Day - Is There a Payphone I Can Use?

Oh, readers...  This may take the cake on the hump day posts thus far.  

(Fair warning - you might not want to click the links if you're in a public setting and easily embarrassed.  The pictures aren't graphic, but they sure are hysterical.)

Sure, you can use your phone for sexting, if that does it for you, but then what?  You're stuck, right?  

Not anymore.  Introducing, the MobileRyder, the first sex toy cell phone accessory.  No, I'm really not kidding.  This thing exists.  

According to the site, "your friends are already whispering about" this crazy product, and a "Super Sexy A List Celebrity" is quoted praising them for inventing this thing.  Seriously?  It's a phone cover with a dildo attached.  Why the hell would anyone buy this, let alone invent the damn thing??

But, as we all know, if it's out there, someone will buy it.  And the worst part is, you may never know who has been humping their phone and who hasn't.  As one blog notes, you'll never want to borrow a friend's phone again.  With this on the market, who knows where that thing has been, right?  -shudder-  

Maybe it's time to bring back payphones...