One fine day.

A year ago, one of Bradley’s closest pals from his uni days, popped the question to his Personal Penguin. After having lived with them both myself for ten months, I was super happy that they were making the official, totally official.

All my ‘Congratulations’ however, was simmering on top of a pot of anxiety.

Let me get this straight, I’m being totally selfish here, I had no anxiety about the happy couple, or their big day, I had all the confidence it was going to be a stunning day and I was more than happy for them. I was anxious for myself and for how I was going to be.

I’ve always been a bit of a black sheep, but equally never really given a hoot. Back in England I had a lot of large social circles, a mass variety of peeps that I am proud to call my chums, and always had someone on the phone, or always had plans down to keep the smile on my dial, with aforementioned chums. If you’ve read my blog before, you’ll be eye rollingly aware of how miserable I had become, if you haven’t however, just be aware, that those social circles have vanished with the best eraser known to the local stationery supplier.

I very much still have all those chums across the water, I have no doubt in that, but what I feel is lacking, is the social and more importantly, supportive network, on my four and a half year old doorstep. Throw in a wedding invite, the third in eighteen months, and the prescription from the GP gets increased.

The build up to the happy couples big day really hit me over the last few weeks. My mood was altered more than that of an ever-changing wind direction, my sleep was all to poop, and well, my significant other got a few too many glimpses of tears and tantrums. I know I know, such a silly wally burger I am. But hey, that’s social anxiety for you ain’t it just.

Saturday morning came around, and in my usual PTSD way I’ve blacked it out already, but I was reminded over dinner last night, that we headed to the ferry in a bit of a silent manner because I was somehow floating over the edge. However, whilst waiting to get on the ferry, and then making a last minute dash to grab some lunch so as to not sail over with two passengers I wasn’t overly keen on seeing, we ended up sailing across with another of my man’s great pals. And well, this sounds a mixture of smug and just like “really Samantha?”, but yeah screw it, it was great. I instantly relaxed, and it was the start of an awesome two days. Island life aye, who knew.

I knew a handful of faces that I was spending my Labour Day weekend with, and some I’d known for a wee bit of time now. However, this weekend, I had put so much pressure on myself that I had to fit in. I had to make a good impression to my main man’s crowd. I couldn’t just sit back and hide away. I couldn’t get old style shit faced and show myself up, as that would show him up equally. I just had to somehow remove a bucket load of pressure and add a bumbag of relaxation and just be able to enjoy the weekend for what it was, along with enjoying the weekend with my other half and generally just making fun memories.

In summary, we have success.

We had two mini vans full of good people, beautiful sunshine, a longer than usual weekend, wine, beautiful scenery (island life is just epic) and just a flipping good time.

Weddings to me are not the enjoyable event that most other people get excited for, to me it is a social anxiety over flowing bowl of stench. Again, a disclaimer, that is just about me, not the occasion itself that other people have thrown a bunch of cash at. I get so so so crazy scared, it is draining and damaging. As much as the point has been made that I had a good time this weekend, that isn’t really the point to be made. I think it’s the fact that I tried, and I opened the side gate and let myself relax and have confidence that I was surrounded by some good people, who not necessarily feel the need to put me in a safe space, but they have a friendship with Bradley. With him being a huge priority in my life, I trust that he only makes good decisions, and he wouldn’t let people in his life that didn’t need to be there, and I know he wouldn’t put me in a situation where he didn’t trust people to be kind to me because that was their natural way, not because they felt the need to have to do that.

Those that suffer from anxiety know that one great experience doesn’t mean you’re cured. It doesn’t mean you can tell yourself to never worry about anything again in the future. What it does show is that you are strong, every day is a new day and you can only live each day in a way that educates you for tomorrow.

To the happy couple, thank you for such a beautiful day. You looked gorgeous and you threw a cracking celebration. To the fellow guests of the wedding, thank you for being in Bradley’s life and allowing me to fit in the circle with you. To you, my main man, thanks for your patience, and giving me that little bit of courage back every day. You clearly bagged it up for me when it went awol a few years ago.

All in all, it was one fine day. xxx


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