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Seriously, after a big build-up at home, lots of self-coaxing, lying to myself in the mirror, and pumping myself up with outlandish self-talk, I garner enough courage to attend the inaugural meeting of the very first, official, Support Network for Introverts and Over-Thinkers. Or, “SNIOT”, for short.
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I’m bang-on a strategic ten minutes late and guess what? No one else is here aside from the Cleaner, head down, vacuuming the carpet in small figure-of-eight patterns.
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So, I hang around a while, hands-in-pockets, reassured by the feel of my housekeys but also needing to distract myself from the intrusive, racing thoughts of my internal dialogue. The competition I have selected for the task, is a faded print behind glass and now I’m struggling to identify details of interest apparent, in the rather dull impression of a flower arrangement. I wonder if the date next to the artist’s signature, reflects how long the print has occupied this space on the wall.
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Fifteen minutes pass and that’s me done. I say to the Cleaner, Hey you can lock-up now, I’m going, this meeting’s obviously not happening.
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You’re here for the meeting? She says lifting her head up quickly. Yes I say. Oh, hi she says, I’m the Facilitator, my name’s Abigail, but it didn’t look like anyone was coming, so, well, you-know, she says, I thought I’d clear-up.
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Oh, right! You’re the Facilitator? I say, failing to disguise my surprise. Will you try again next week maybe? It’s always a possibility that people have just muddled-up the dates.
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Brinkinfield 