I want to be like everyone else. Or at least, I want to be the way I THINK everyone else is.

I want to be someone that other people want to be around.

I want people to be excited at the prospect of meeting me, of spending time with me.

I want to be invited, included.

I was okay right up through college. I had great friends in high school, we did everything together. College was a little trickier for me, but I got invited places, friends wanted to hang out with me.

I didn’t realize I had a problem until I hit my mid-20s and went to work at an office for the first time.

Everyone was nice to me, always, but no one, and I mean NO ONE, ever invited me out to lunch. Or for after work drinks.

Sure, they would chat with me in the elevator or at my desk occasionally, everyone knew about my pregnancies, about buying my first house.

But no one asked me to go on lunchtime walks or hit the mall after work for new shoes.

It bugged me, a lot. I tried to reach out, make the first move myself.

I invited a coworker from another department to lunch. We sat, we ate, we talked. *I* talked. A LOT. As usual.

It was the only time we had lunch together, ever.

After that, I just went down to the break room, found an empty seat, and watched Young and the Restless with everyone else. And tried not to talk. Keyword there being TRIED.

I couldn’t be quiet as a child, either. Every parent-teacher conference, every report card said the same thing. Good student, very bright, advanced reader, but can’t be quiet. Can’t stop talking.

Driving somewhere, my parents up front, me in the back, my sister asleep. Trying, TRYING with every fiber of my being not to talk. To just be quiet with my thoughts. Despite a sisyphean effort, I feel the words bubbling up. Must. Say. SOMETHING.

I have no idea why I am like this. Why it is almost impossible for me to be quiet. I can’t sit through a movie without talking, without making comments to Chris or Ryan or whomever is sitting next to me.

Last night, Nathan had a band concert. I sat next to my friend Patti, mother of Nathan’s friend Mike, whose husband Rick worked with Chris at EDS. Patti and I have always gotten along well, but she works as a nurse so we’ve only chatted briefly as I’ve dropped Nathan off at her house.

I could not stop whispering comments to her during the band concert. I knew I was doing it, I just could not stop.

And what started out as “hi, Elizabeth! How are you?!” turned into “okay, see you later” when the concert was over.

All I could think of on the drive home was why couldn’t I just shut up for 30 minutes?

What’s weird is, if I’m alone, I don’t talk to myself. I go to movies alone, restaurants alone, I sit here alone while Kaitlyn is playing in another room, and I don’t talk.

But put someone anywhere near me, and the words start coming. And coming, and coming. Wordy wordy words.

I think back to blog conferences and events. To the distinct lack of invitations to join anyone for dinner or go back to their room to hang out with a group. And I have to look at it from other people’s point of view – I do not shut up, I’m positive it annoys the crap out of people.

So, what do I do? I certainly don’t want companies to stop inviting me to their events because they think I’m some kind of freak. And I don’t want other bloggers to run the other way when they see me coming…because they think I’m some kind of freak.

I already take Venlafaxine for depression, anxiety, and panic disorder. Geez Louise could I BE more messed up? I can’t take a higher dose than I already do because when I tried, it made me jump out of my skin.

I’m afraid to tell my doctor that hey, I know you already are medicating me for anxiety, but I’m still anxious, HALP.

All I know is, I don’t want to be this way, if there’s anything that will help. I have many fine redeeming qualities, and I hate that they are overshadowed by my incessant blabbing. I think people would like me if I could just shut up long enough!

*sigh*. Sorry to be a bummer on a Friday, but I had to get this off my chest. Comments are open, feel free to throw your two cents at me.