Here I am, in one of those “should I or shouldn’t I? ” situations again.

Today is the day of my friends’ baby shower. Ryan and Jennifer Hawe are holding a baby shower in anticipation of the arrival of their little one. I am quite happy for them, and wish them all the best as they enter that very big Next Stage of parenthood.

And I have the perfect opportunity to go to said shower. I am invited (naturally), my roomie Joe is driving there, I have enough time to finish this missive before the Joe bus leaves at 7 pm, and so all I would have to do is finish writing, take a quick shower, and be dressed and ready to go when the time comes, and I would be all set.

Well, there is the sticky issue of a present. I have neither the time nor the money to buy one, and to show up without one would be a tad gauche. I suppose I could slap a bow on one of my surplus plushies and call that a gift. Or I could bring a bottle of Merlot that a friend left in the fridge.

Then again, I suppose bringing alcohol as a gift to a baby shower would seem a tad tone deaf.

So there is that. I am sure I could come up with something if I really had to do so, though.

Therefore, in theory at least, I have no real reason not to go. But then again, there is that dreaded beast of my dark psyche, social anxiety.

There is going to be a lot of people there whom I do not know. And not my usual sort of person either. Normal people, with normal lives, and normal ways of thinking. People with whom I have very little in common and who (and this is the crux of it) are likely to find me weird and off-putting no matter how hard I try to not spook the herd.

And then, there I will be, socially isolated despite my best intentions once again, feeling like some sort of alien monster trying to blend in with the flock.

And while I talk the talk of being a happy little monster, to be honest, I am far too sensitive to be happy with upsetting people. The looks they give me like I have just started talking Swahili at them, or grown a new head out of each eyeball, just hurt so much. That cold feeling of isolation and rejection and the massive gulf opening up between me and them is just more than a delicate hothouse flower like me can withstand. It is the root of my social anxiety, and boy does that root run deep.

Now granted, my friends will be there, and they understand me. And the hosts, Jenn and Ryan, they know me. We used to be roomies. So they understand me. Ryan, perhaps, a bit more than Jenn.

So I would have some shelter from my fears. And I am probably making a bigger deal about who all will be there than is warranted. It is just that kind of thinking that led me to talk myself out of going to their wedding reception, which I still kind of regret.

I mean, this is just the kind of real-world experience I need, to be honest. Interacting with the wider world and learning to adjust to it. If you do not stay in the game, you will never learn to play it well. It is a lesson I have been trying to teach myself for quite some time.

But there is reason, and then there is fear. And my fear is mighty huge.

So will I go, or will I not? I wish I could just decide and be done with it. But there are too many factors involved, and too many emotions in play, and too many vectors to be resolved before I can have anything like a firm decision.

The easiest route to decision would be to just say “Nope! Not going. Those things are for healthy people. Normal people. Whole people. I will just stay home and stew in my own juices like usual. ”

But a big part of me would really like to go. I would like to show my support of the happy expecting couple, and they will probably have nice food and whatnot there, and so on.

But, at least at this golden moment, I do not feel up to it. And I think I have to learn to be okay with that, too. Part of taking the tension and painful indecision out of moments like this will be, like I said to Felicity last night, “giving myself permission to do both.”

Stay or go, both are fine. I am free to choose either without thinking any less of myself. No reward, no penalty, I am free to pick either without worry. Whatever I feel like doing.

But my feelings change with the wind, and leave me spinning like a weather-vane in a hurricane. I think part of the reason I am so left-brained and hence prone to imposing intellectual structure on my emotions rather than let the emotions take the lead is that being so sensitive makes it at least feel like if I was to follow my emotions, I would just run around in random circles and never get anywhere at all.

The more sensitive the instrument, the more erratic the readings, after all. And you cannot follow a wildly spinning compass around. Not when it does not slow down long enough to even take a reading.

But what makes it spin? Why are my emotions constantly in flux? Is there some way to cut down on the interference and turn noise into signal?

And if there was, would I have the courage to follow its reading, or would I just stay where I am anyhow, while part of me silently curses the loss of another excuse?

And what happens when I run out? What then?

Probably, I will just keep asking myself contrary questions till I am dizzy again.