So my friend B invited me over for her son’s 2nd bday party. J and I don’t go to very many kiddie bday parties (like never), mostly bc up until this last year, our closest friends were child-free like us. B was very sweet: she expressed some hesitation about inviting kid-free people to her baby’s bday party, but I said I was happy to go every now and then. I mean, it’s worth a try, dipping the feet into the pool occasionally. Plus, it’s only for a few hours… can’t be that bad. So Sunday came along. J managed expectations from the get go and declined, so that was fine: I went solo. But the last time I was invited by this friend’s place for a party, it was uber swank. She’s Afghan, and I dunno what it is, but I find that some cultures, like Afghan and Persian cultures really glam things up. When I went to her baby shower about seven years ago, I showed up very punctually, wearing casual clothes, i.e. dark jeans. Holy crap, the Afghans run super late, and OMG, I was not only like one of two non-Afghans there, but I felt like I was at a party with the Kardashians… everyone was uber polished and fancy. Yup, it gave me the ugly duckling complex, so this time, I made sure to put in more effort. I wore a dress, and I also arrived 45 minutes after the stated time. As it turned out, I was STILL on the early side, and I think I was the only non-family member there, which was kinda intimidating but everyone was also very welcoming. I met her parents, mom-in-law, brothers, sis-in-law, etc. I’d met all of them at the shower years ago, and man, the moms are so put together also!! Just, classy. I dunno how else to describe it. A lot of times, I feel like my family wears big, baggy, ill-fitted stuff. It’s not that their clothes are cheap, but their outfits rarely fit. But B’s family? Very well-dressed. I had originally anticipated 2 hours, but well, I ended up hanging out for four hours. I had fun catching up with B and her hubby K, with whom I used to work. Of course, their two boys plus two of the boys’ cousins were there, so I had to work especially hard focusing on the adult conversation while the kids were bouncing around on a trampoline and generally going bonkers. Holy crap. There was screaming and crying and then so-and-so hit the other kid. Then shit got unplugged, and wires were tangled. I dunno. It was a fucking zoo. I seriously do NOT know how people handle kids, much less MULTIPLE kids in the same household. Mind blowing for reals.

The interesting thing about all of this though was just that family was clearly so important. The mom-in-law had flown in from the midwest for the bday party. I observed K standing behind his mom with his hands around her neck. Affection, laughter, celebration. The total opposite of time I spend with my family. Maybe I’m comparing their best with my worst, or whatever that comparison game line is. The thing is though, my best is neutral: it’s just times when there’s no disappointment or criticism or sadness. It’s just getting shit done and doing practical things. I guess that’s what happens when you isolate yourself. You lose the skills of communication and connection. As a practicing physician, my father had excellent bedside manner. His patients and colleagues loved him, but I don’t think he really ever learned how to connect with people on a deep, friendship level. Being useful and helpful and full of advice? Excellent. But just cutting loose and hanging out? Never. Completely foreign. I’m sure growing up in this environment of chronic distance and lack of connection is partly what makes me so desensitized to social awkwardness. I mean, hello, welcome to my family. Welcome to every single homecoming, phone call, family gathering. It’s pretty sad, and yet, what can be done. I can only learn from this and apply my knowledge going forward, bc in my family, some things will just never change.

When I was on the phone with my father yesterday, he asked about my job. He asked if I liked my coworkers. I said I was good friends with one person, and the others were fine. I got along with everybody. Then, he started warning me that sometimes people come across nice but then they backstab and sabotage you. I mean, look: I know my father faced racial discrimination. I know he’s seen the bad side of people, especially when, for a period, his office staff had trouble getting along. I’m sure he saw all those awful things that come along with dysfunction. But at the same time, I’m 39. I have my own lifetime of experience, and no matter how fucked up any of my past workplaces have been, I have NEVER had an issue with people. Overall, my work speaks for itself, and I pretty much get along with everybody. Some people frustrate me, but it never gets to the point of deliberate ill-will and malice. Anyway, his whole point going down that path was just another example of the habit of paranoia and fear-based thinking: everyone is out to get you. When I was in school, my parents always insisted that my friends who were doing well were out to topple me from being at the head of the class: Don’t share any secrets, blah, blah, blah. I mean, is it any real surprise that they have no friends?? I just tried my best to nip this convo in the bud by saying “I don’t have that problem.”

I suppose all of this really boils down to a fundamental difference in philosophy. My parents feel that honesty and truth is overexposing and risky, that vulnerability is a weakness. But after years of damaging myself with inadequacies striving for perfectionist ideals, I find that vulnerability is a truth, and while I value strength and resilience and the desire/effort to improve, I also try to minimize feeling shame about all my flaws and foibles. Maybe in some odd way, I feel that my (radical) honesty is what’s unique to me. That’s what I offer to others. And oddly enough, that’s what my parents have always instructed me to hide.