I went to a wonderful Holiday party on Saturday, one that I had really looked forward to. But what was my brain thinking about the whole time? Not the open bar, the Mac-n-cheese buffet, the live music, the 20’s themed ambience with huge sparkling chandeliers, the sequined dresses or the not-so-understated suits, and not even my handsome date. No, my brain was thinking about what I possibly walked on while going through the parking garage, what was on the wall that my sweater touched, whether I had bumped into that garbage can or touched the pile of trash across the street; my mind was tracking each time my favorite sparkling 3-inch heels touched my dress, his chair, my tights; my mind was making sure that my hands didn’t hang down too low and touch the sweater or the bottom of my dress, watching his hands and his jacket making sure they didn’t touch that chair, wondering if the hand I was eating with had touched that garbage can… I forgot to make myself smile and enjoy the party. I had to continuously pull myself out of my mind and remember that I was talking to someone and then try to figure out where the conversation had led us. I was trying to figure out the perfect balance between the open bar and the fact that I can’t use public bathrooms. I didn’t get to relish the rich and decadent desserts because while I was spooning the chocolate mousse into my mouth my mind was already back home, trying to figure out how I was going to get out of these tights that went all the way up to my bra, or out of this dress that was digging into my armpits, and get into the shower and clean my phone and wondering if there was any way that I could save my favorite, most painful pair of heels from my OCD (I couldn’t, they got left out in the garage with the rest of the shoe cemetery).
So I was planning to go to a magnificent party, but I didn’t go. Only a shell of me got to go, my mind was never really there.
I don’t regret it though. I’ll try again next year, and next year I hope that I can leave OCD and it’s annoying lies at home. I hope it will just be me and my hot date, an open bar, fancy clothes, and as much Mac-n-cheese as I can eat.