Thoughts from a Former Ice Queen

If you’re a charismatic extrovert, please sit by me.

It’s snowing today. Flurries dash by my bedroom window in a frenzied dance as I type this. Snow is magical when it’s new and fresh and a break from the usual. Much less so when it piles up, turns to slush and ice. I don’t think it ever snowed when I lived in San Francisco. After 14 years of living in that temperate desert, it’s kinda nice to see some snow.

Here’s a question for you: What is the difference between someone who looks approachable and someone who looks unapproachable? Like if we're just talking about seeing someone across the room, someone who isn't necessarily being outgoing or actively making eye contact with you, is there something that would make you want to go up to them? Does an approachable person have a certain look? A certain warmth? What is it about them? Likewise, what makes an unapproachable person seem so intimidating?

Since high school, I've been told that I exude standoffish vibes. I’m not saying I’m intimidating, I mean I don’t think that I am, but perhaps I seem that way to some. A person I once considered a friend described me to others as an ice queen. There might be more to that, we were friends, but I think he might have wanted more. He was a freshman and I was a senior and I already had a boyfriend so that was never going to happen, but whatever the case may have been, that comment has stuck with me.

When I was a drunk my mornings were often saturated with a feeling of having done something wrong. The night before a type of nightmare. Spent in public with mostly strangers. Me, loose and unnatural and saying things I wouldn't under sober circumstances.

It's been 8 years since I quit drinking and while it's definitely the best thing I could have done for my mental health and general well-being, I still have mornings where I wake up and wonder why I acted the way that I did the night before. Brushing my teeth and showering, deep in thought chastising myself, wondering why I was so standoffish.

Call it social anxiety call it overthinking call it insecurity or whatever you want. It sucks and I feel like it's holding me back in so many ways.

Recently I was talking with a friend, one of my only mom friends in Philadelphia, about my unfriendliness and how it hinders me in these social situations and she said, “You’re not unfriendly, you’re selectively social.” This might be part of it. I enjoy being social but I also find it overwhelming. Often I’m too much in my head, unless I’m in the company of some excellent conversationalist who gives everyone in the group ample attention. I love those people. If you’re a charismatic extrovert, please sit by me.

The truth is I am shy. I always have been. It's very hard for me to just walk up to someone and strike up a conversation no matter how much I want to. Thinking back to my college days, there were quite a few times when it took me most of the semester to finally work up the courage to talk to my classmates. It was always funny too, like look at me, here I am on one of the last days of class trying to make friends with someone in my class who I’ll probably never interact with again besides occasionally liking their posts on Facebook.

Being a mom is lonely. I’m paraphrasing one of the characters from Six Feet Under, but it feels somewhat true. I hardly go out anymore, I’m usually too tired. Running around after a toddler really takes it out of me. But maybe that’s not all. Maybe it’s not just the lack of external experiences, maybe it’s my expectations. Moving back to my hometown, I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but I imagined having more friends. At the risk of sounding narcissistic, maybe part of me thought people would already know who I am, that they would be familiar with my writing and would seek me out and want to be my friend, but unsurprisingly that has not been the case. Add that to the fact that I moved back 6 months pregnant after having spent 14 years living in California. Most of the people I grew up with are gone, having moved to a different city or different part of the world.

If I were friendlier, if I wasn’t so stuck in my head when I’m around people I don’t know, maybe I could make new friends. Yesterday I took my daughter to an indoor playground and there were groups of other moms chit chatting with each other. They were talking about astrology, checking their phones to see what Co-Star and Chani had to say about planetary movements and if they could be related to why their toddlers were being so fussy. I could have chimed in, I could have asked to join them, but I didn’t. I followed behind my daughter as she approached the group of moms, stayed behind then redirected her when she tried to grab one of the mom’s phones. The most I got out of that interaction was a “That’s okay,” from one of the moms when I apologized for the intrusion.

Sometimes another mom will tell me my daughter is cute (she IS cute!) and I’ll smile and thank her and ask about their child, how old they are, et cetera, but my conversations usually don’t go further than that. I tend to think that people are just being polite when they make comments like that, like they’re simply acknowledging my and my daughter’s existence because it’s the human thing to do and not because they are looking to make a new friend. The last thing I want is to be desperate for a friend.

“Be my friend!” I imagine myself as Celia Hodes from Weeds deranged and yelling out after another mom makes her compulsory compliment and walks off.

I’m trying to go out and do more things. Put myself out there. Attend events. It’s okay if people don’t know who I am. I’ll say hi and introduce myself.

This weekend I plan on checking out two poetry/arts events. I invited a writer to come with me, and she said yes. All I had to do was ask.

A few months back I went to a book signing event at The Strand for Elle Nash’s novel Deliver Me. I posted a selfie on Instagram wearing my NYC event outfit prior to taking the train out there, and another writer DMed me to ask if I was going to Elle’s event. We had a nice back and forth about going to writer parties and being self conscious and realizing that everyone in the room probably feels the same way, and perhaps at a slightly elevated level due to us all being writers and in our heads. I try to remember this fact when I find myself in situations where I am in a room with other writers who I have never spoken with in person before, who I mainly only know from the internet. Everyone seems scary, and cooler than me, but the truth is that most people are nice once you get talking to them. And if they’re not nice then it’s no loss. When I went to that NYC event I did feel awkward at first, but once I got acclimated I was able to open up and have some nice conversations with a bunch of the people I met there. I think having that pre-game DM convo on Instagram helped, so thank you

UNHINGED: crafts and thoughts

for reaching out.

This post is all over the place, but there are central themes. Feeling inadequate, judging myself more harshly than is deserved, insecurity, fear of rejection, fear of making myself vulnerable. Yesterday I posted a question on Facebook asking what is our obsession with focusing on the people who do not like us rather than the people who do? It got quite a few thoughtful responses but this one from Russell Reza-Khaliq Gonzaga hit something for me: “Evolution. We feel safe with people who like us. We may be in danger from people who don't. They get our natural attention, but it is wary attention.”

What are your thoughts? Is it easy for you to make friends? Do you enjoy going to events alone and meeting new people there? What are your secrets to being friendly?

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