#26 Host a Party

We have been very lucky the past four years. My kids are happy with just going swimming at the water park for their birthdays, with just the family.

My daughter turned 5 at the beginning of the month, and she was given the choice of swimming or having a party with her friends. 

She wanted a party. 

Shit. 

The last time I had a party in my house was 6 years ago. For my husbands birthday, which was also our house-warming party. 

I don’t do parties. I don’t do people. 

I like people, but in small doses.

 I don’t like all the people I know combined in one place at the same time. Add to that in my house, and 

Knock knock 

Who’s there?

Anxiety. 

I have come to realize that I handle my social anxiety with drinking alcohol.

The most stressful situations can be solved with a few drinks before the event.

Me and my husband are currently trying to go a year without drinking. This is resulting in me being forced to find different ways to deal with my anxiety.

We had a magician come to the house, which seemed like the perfect way for all the kids to be entertained. My daughter was asked who she wanted to come, and that’s all that was invited. 

I thought the kids would watch, and the adults would visit. I guess everyone loves a little magic because it ended up being everyone crammed into a little room watching this Irish magician Mullen. 

Instead of standing and watching with everyone else I was scanning the room looking at everyone’s faces. 

Did they think it was funny? Was it cheesy? Was it painful to watch? Were people counting down until it was over? Did the kids understand the jokes? Was it just my kids laughing? Where people wishing they never came? 

This is just a glimpse into my brain. I take something simple and complicate it completely.

I should have been sitting with everyone and enjoying it, but I couldn’t handle the thoughts going though my head. I ended up sitting on a different floor and visiting with people when they would randomly come down. 

For the days leading up to the party and I was stressing people were going to judge me on everything.

  •  how clean my house was
  • that  I didn’t do enough 
  • that I did TOO much
  •  the food wasn’t good enough
  •  my cupcakes were lame (sugar free, gluten free..)
  • that my cupboards were full of too much shit
  • that I have mix and match dishes and mugs
  • that my couch smelled like a giant cat, just like in the febreeze commercial
  •  that we live like wild animals

Then for 2 or 3 days after the party  I was breaking down every aspect OF the party. Thinking of what I could have done better or different completely. 

I constantly need to be validated that I did a good job and everyone had fun. At the same time, when people say that, I doubt they are actually telling the truth. 

Thankfully my husband is the total opposite. 

He finds something positive as quickly as I find something negative. 

He keeps me in line, without even trying. He knows the right thing to counter my crazy Brain with. That’s probably why we work so well together. 

The yin to my yang. 

The cheese to my wine.

 I thought I needed alcohol to survive my social anxiety, but turns out I just need him by my side and his voice in my ear. 💕

All the thoughts, all the stress, all the anxiety made it all worth it to hear my daughter say that her birthday was perfect. 

She had her friends, pink decorations, cupcakes, presents, and the magnificent magician and that’s more then she probably ever imagined. It was perfect to her, and that’s the only opinion that should really count.

There is no turning back now, my three year old has already decided he wants a birthday party with friends next year too, so I guess I better get this anxiety under wraps!

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