A Little At A Time

It’s no secret that I sometimes have a rub with DC.  A flip-flop relationship, if you will.

The Jekyll and Hyde thoughts go:  This is a great city.  I HAVE to get out of here.  So many amazing adventures are at my finger tips here.  The traffic makes me crazy.  I love being able to be a part of “all this.”  The opportunities are not worth the stress of sustained effort.

But it’s that final sentiment which has always been my biggest hang up about DC.   The opportunities are not worth the stress of the sustained effort.

I know…it sounds kind of weak….

Last night, Joe agreed to go with me to a happy hour for some of my friends.  I knew that we would be a little late but at an hour and half late, we still hadn’t left.  I was tempted to just throw up my arms and not go.  I even told Joe that we didn’t have to.  I mean if we’re going to be two hours late, on a school night for cryin’ out loud, was it even worth the effort of going?  (Intellectually, I knew that it was.  But when my anxiety starts bubbling, I become doubtful.)

On the way to the metro I was determined to focus on the fact that once we got out, I was going to have a great time and be extremely happy that we were.  Because I know, that 9 times out of 10, I have a killer time once I get where I’m going. 

And I had to continue focusing on the fun that we would have while we waited 10 minutes for the train.  (Which bothered me because we were already “later” than the “late” I had planned for.)

And then again as we stood crammed against strangers in the car, next to a man whose phone kept ringing (with the most obnoxious ring) and call kept dropping.  I wanted to scream, Save the rest of the commuters from insanity.  We’re underground.  Turn off the ringer.  GIVE IT UP!

Then we got off the train and the transit station was teeming with people.  We had to jockey for position to make any headway towards the exit because what seemed like hundreds of people were powering towards us trying to get ON the train.  

And then I couldn’t find Joe. 

I was ready to just sit down and wait for the masses to pass.

Finally, though, we surfaced from below ground.  We got to the party and had a great time.  Then when we left the bar and went across the street for an enjoyable, late dinner.

Joe and I had a fun evening together and with friends.  It was well worth the effort and 30 minutes of self-initiated anxiety.  Hopefully next time, though, I’ll keep the memory of the fun stronger and the anxiety a little more under wraps. 

 

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