Day 30 of 366

Before Christmas, we had a potluck at work.

I chose not to participate.

At first, I antagonized over whether or not I should participate.

Then, I felt guilt for not wanting to participate.

But I also knew that I would feel worse if I did participate and not finish everything else on my to do list.

So I thought.

Would it look like I didn’t have school spirit? Like I don’t support our administration? Like I’m a snob for not going to something that someone else organized?

And I thought.

Would people think I was being a Scrooge or a Grinch? Or I thought I was too good to spend time with them?

And I thought more.

Would I miss something? Would I be left out again?

And I thought some more.

Would I legitimately have time to do everything I wanted to do this week? All the things on my long to-do list? Cleaning my classroom, working on projects for next semester, preparing for the break, etc. It’s only an hour lunch, but it’s also the time cooking.

And I thought even more. So much that the anxiety of what I should do just got to be too much. Any fun that could have been was sucked dry.

My final answer? I’ll just stay in my room, skip lunch all together, and pray no one notices I’m not there.

And that’s when it dawned on me.

All this time, I’ve been pushing my anxiety down and forcing myself to be an extrovert, when I’m really an introvert during stressful times. At this point in my life, I just can’t do it. And maybe others can’t either.

For years, I’ve been so frustrated with other people who aren’t doing what I think they should—what I feel like is their responsibility. I show up time and time again when I don’t want to, when I’m tired and overworked and overwhelmed and over”whatever,” because I know I should. And I feel others should, too. Show support to the school by showing up. Show support to the church by showing up. Show support to the whatever by showing up.

Yet people don’t always show up. And it’s disappointing—especially when you were part of the planning committee or the driving force to make the event happen.

But at that point in December, it was my turn to sit out.

Because I was giving all I had.

And I’m realizing that maybe, maybe all this time, other people were giving all they had, too.

Or maybe they weren’t.

Either way—it’s not my place to judge.

After all, maybe all we can give in that moment is simply enough.