Breaking Out of Hermit Mode?

Apparently, I’ve been “hermitting” for so long, I’ve forgotten basic conversation skills.

Story time, boys and girls.

Once upon a time…

Just kidding.

One night, my husband and I go out for Mexican food at a local establishment. I’m not mentally prepared to see anyone I know and don’t want to worry about locking eyes with them and being forced to have a conversation. So, when the hostess seats us in a corner booth, I quickly grab the seat facing away from the door. Confident in my hiding place, I start to relax.

As I scan the menu, I pick up on a conversation at a nearby table: “She asked me: ‘So what are your views on global warming?'”

Of course, my ears perk up because the health of Mother Earth is an important topic for me. I can’t hear the rest of the conversation, but I get a feeling this is probably a ladies’ church small group meeting for dinner. I don’t dare look towards them because I’m afraid I’ll know one of them, and once again, I’m not prepared to speak to anyone. I just want to enjoy my time with my hubby on our little dinner date.

We order margaritas (2 for 1) and our food. Hubby and I devour the chips, salsa, and cheese dip. Our meal comes, and we dig in. And then I hear it:

“Amanda? Is that you?”

I look towards the table, but I’ve taken my glasses off, so everyone is just a blur. I say, “Hold on, I can’t see,” put on my glasses and look again. Sure enough, it is a ladies’ church small group of five or six women, and the one speaking to me led the first small group I had joined when I attended that church.

I say, “Oh my gosh! Hey! How are you?”

And I get up from the table. *Instant regret*

Why? Why on earth did I get up from the table? I could have sat in my little corner and said, “Good to see you” or let her take the reins of the conversation. But now, standing there with wide eyes and shaking hands, I feel myself slipping into the skin of the person I used to be (aka who I think they expect me to be), but it no longer fits.

I stand beside the lady who first called to me and say, “Y’all doing okay?”

“Yeah, we’re doing great? How are you?” she says.

“Hi, Amanda,” another lady sitting diagonally across the table says.

“Oh, hey! Oh my gosh! Apparently, I can’t see with my glasses on or off,” I say and rush around to the other side of the table. I wave hello to the lady sitting on the other side of her because I know that I know her, but my brain isn’t working, so I can’t remember how I know her. I say to the lady I’m standing beside: “How have you been?”

“Good. What are you doing now?” she says.

I look towards my husband. He’s blissfully eating and even though the table is only three steps away, it feels like a mile. I make a sweeping motion with my arm and shrug my shoulders, “Oh, I’m um, staying at home mostly.”

A resounding “Good for you!” and “That’s great!” but I feel flustered and start to ramble.

“Oh, I mean, it’s not really what I want to do, but it’s what I have to do right now. I mean…”

“Weren’t you writing at one time?” the lady beside me says.

“Yes, I mean, I still am, but not like I used to. I mean, really I’m trying to write, but I’m just doing what I can. I just… um… I really don’t leave the house much. I mean, it’s scary out here. Really. I don’t… um… Yeah, you know what I mean?”

As I’m talking, I suddenly realize I never put on a bra, and even though I’m wearing an undershirt, I still feel like “the girls” are moving around too much, drawing attention to themselves while I’m moving my arms too much, and stumbling over my thoughts and failing at trying to answer a simple question.

*Uncomfortable pause in conversation*

“Oh. Well, it’s good to see you, Amanda,” the first woman says with a polite smile, and I realize this is my cue to return to my seat.

“Oh. Okay. Good to see y’all,” I say and slink awkwardly and quickly to our table, plopping my butt down into my seat and scooting over. I start eating my meal again, and I. Am. Mortified. My brain finally reveals the woman that I couldn’t place is the mother of one of the youth girls from the small group I used to lead.

The table continues their conversation in hushed tones, and of course, I think they’re talking about me because even I’m thinking: What the hell was that? They get up to leave, and I glance in their direction hoping to grab the attention of the youth girl’s mom to inquire about how her daughter is doing, but no one looks my way.

After they leave, I tell my husband about how the conversation went and how I embarrassed myself.

“I wasn’t prepared to see anyone I knew tonight,” I say.

“How are you not prepared? Just about every time we go out, you see someone you know,” he says half-joking but also speaking the truth.

“I don’t know,” I whine and wipe my hand across and down my face.

He grins sheepishly and says: “We’ve got to work on de-hermitizing you.”

“I know,” I say slumping my shoulders.

I decide to message the mom via Instagram. I find her profile easily in my followers and confirm for myself that I knew her name all along, but my brain froze. As I begin to type the message, I accidentally hit send, and panic. Thankfully, I realize I can hit unsend, so I do that and sigh with relief. I’ll send her a message later, I think to myself.

My husband and I finish our meal and leave for home.

Later…

I compose a message on an app I use for notes and decide to be real with her: “Hey, sorry about not speaking to you directly. I was caught off guard. I really don’t go out much, so I’m sorry I was so awkward, but it was good to see a friendly face.”

I copy and paste it as an Instagram message. As soon as I hit send, I spot an earlier message from her:
“I thought I saw a message here, but when I went to read it, it disappeared. I know tonight was unexpected, but you look great and it was so good to see you!”

Yep, it was obvious, I was a mess. *facepalm*

She invites me to join their small group, and I decline. I tell her now isn’t a good time, and it’s complicated, but to ask me again later. She tells me she is also going through a difficult time and things are tough with her daughter right now, so I’m not alone. Then she says: “I will ask you again later.”

Our brief conversation was a good reminder that even though I am a basket case, other people are going through shit, too. I do know this, but sometimes, I forget (especially because I’ve been working on my hermit status for so long).

I think about joining the small group, but I don’t have the same beliefs anymore and don’t want to get into a conversation with others who might not be open-minded to other spiritual experiences or views, especially when I’m still figuring out what I believe. And then this comes to me:

“What if there were no Bible? No book touched by the hands of men? Nothing written down? No other person’s account? No other person’s words or viewpoints or visions? What if it was just you and God? What does that look like?”

This makes me think of forming my own small group of women from various backgrounds who are open to learning and growing and evolving and allowing people to believe/think differently than they do without judgment, fear, or anger. That would be beautiful. That would be a wonderful community of women.

But gathering the courage and strength to reacclimate with society is needed to create a group like this.

That thought alone makes me fearful, tired, and anxious. Breaking out of hermit mode will be harder than I want it to be. I suppose I need to take this one little baby step at a time. Thank God for therapy. (Kidding, but not kidding.)

Question:

Are any of you going through something like this? Have you had a life-changing event(s) that made you withdraw and reevaluate who you are, what you believe, and what you want out of life? I’d love to hear from someone else on how they are dealing or have dealt with rejoining the world after a period of reclusivity (not a word really, but I like it).

Regardless, thanks for reading. I’m glad you’re here.