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September 23, 2017

The other night my husband dragged me kicking and screaming to a church social.  Don’t get me wrong; it’s not church I’m opposed to, although I’d it like it much better if it were shorter—anything over 20 minutes is torture to me.  It’s just that I can’t handle socials, church or otherwise.

I have that deceitful kind of personality that makes people think I am enjoying myself as I flit from person to person smiling and joking.  I can meet strangers confidently, carry my weight in most conversations and can even speak to large audiences with nary a hand tremor.  The problem that lurks within the murky waters of my soul is very simple. I don’t want to go to parties. I don’t want to go to socials. I don’t want to go to meetings and I really don’t want to make small talk.  Don't judge me.  It's a strange anxiety that I can't seem to control.

This may surprise you but I might actually be what people call a social butterfly.  Before you shake your head and roll yo...

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