Book Club

I turned 42 recently. There wasn’t a lot of fanfare around it. I didn’t have some existential crisis. Not this year at least. That happened at 39. Maybe it was because it was the last year before entering a new decade. 36 felt like another big one as I was closer to 40 than 30. So 42 felt fairly benign. It was a lovely day at home that started with breakfast in bed and Happy Birthday sung to me by my sweet little monkeys. Although the only candles they could find were a 5 and a 6, I think it helped knowing that even though my chocolate chip banana bread muffin “cake” was adorned with the number 56, I wasn’t actually going to be 56 for another 14 years.

I mentioned previously that this last year has been a lot of hard work to turn things around and get myself into a healthier space mentally and physically. It’s taken a lot to get to this point and I don’t want to slow that forward momentum. The exciting element now is that I’m not working to solve for panic attacks and heart palpitations. This feels like the stage where the “fun work” can begin.

I’m innately an introvert. The awkward person in the room, trying to hide in plain sight, probably over sharing, convinced everyone has pegged her as the oddball of the group and panic sweating the entire time. Talk about a drain on the social battery. I would come home from social events exhausted, embarrassed, still awkward and somehow still in a panicked sweat. We will just say social interactions were (maybe still are) not a strong suit.

But I’m convinced it’s something I can get better at. So it’s an area I’m pursuing. Other areas I’m trying to be better at: reading more, writing consistently and being my own champion.

In one of my doom scrolling sessions on Facebook, I came across a local book club. I clicked into the group and saw that one of their next events was at a brewery only ten minutes from our house. I got this, I told myself. In reality, I did not know if “I got this” but I figured I would at least try. So I joined the group, bought and actually read the book. The hardest step would be attending the event. Cue said evening. There was still panic on the way in. And sweating. Just less this time around. I was pleasantly surprised by that discovery. Maybe it’s because I am 42 and with every increase in age there also seems to be fewer fucks to give.

Luckily, it was very evident where the group was when I entered the brewery and I was also able to recognize the woman who organized it. She welcomed me and introduced me to another attendee who was there for the first time as well. The other newbie to the group and I started chatting. I grabbed a beer. Settled in a bit. And continued to chat.

After a while though, I realized I had become the awkward individual with my back up against the wall, still sweating and had inadvertently suction cupped myself to the first person I had been introduced to. I can only imagine this poor woman was thinking “who is this crazy lady standing by my chair for far too long?” I wanted to moonwalk my way out the door, run to my car and never look back. As uncomfortable as that opening scene was, I’m glad I chose to stay. I ended up walking around the many tables filled with those that read the same book, saying hi to several other new groups of people, ordering a second beer and food and connecting with a few of the other women in attendance. And when I left that night, I did so with a few new Facebook friends and a social battery that was not completely depleted, I went home proud of myself and happy to tell my husband that I did not spend the entire night sitting in my car, willing myself into the brewery.

Funny thing is, I didn’t go just once. Last night, I went to my second book club evening. It was book club paired with a wine tasting. I brought myself, two bottles of wine for the tasting and a charcuterie board for snacking. Once again, I found myself getting out of my car with far less hesitation and panic than in the past. I walked into the room and quickly recognized a few faces from the first event and settled quite nicely into the evening.

I’m going to add in what may seem like an odd sidebar regarding my charcuterie board but I promise there’s a point. I have always enjoyed entertaining. Hosting in any form brings me such joy, which may seem odd for an introvert but I love all aspects of it. Planning a menu, activities, experimenting with new recipes. Maybe it stems from my Italian side and the innate desire to feed people. As our boys get older, I’ve also found more excuses to host the friends and families we’ve gotten to know through school. A Grinch party for the holidays. End-of-the-school-year parties. Sunday dinners. Favorite Things parties. Give me a reason to host and I’m going to take and run with it.

Throughout all of these events, one theme that has crept up more and more is encouragement from friends and moreover, my husband. Encouragement to turn the entertaining side of what I do into a business. Whether making one of those incredible little mini bakeries you see popping up all over the place or with the charcuterie boards I so enjoy. But just to do something more with it. I’ve always loved the idea but never took it seriously. I actually looked up the state laws surrounding what it takes to do something like that out of your house but again did nothing with the information. When the opportunity arose to bring something to the book club, my husband suggested I bring a charcuterie board so others could see what I’m capable of. I obliged because, let’s be real, cheese, meat and crackers are always a good time. He was bummed that I did not have business cards to hand out but told me that I should let people know I could absolutely do something for them if they were interested. So I whipped out my food safe gloves, some brie, prosciutto and a plethora of other goodies and once carefully constructed, headed out for the evening, charcuterie board in tow.

And when I debuted the charcuterie board, I got a lot of really thoughtful feedback and questions about whether I did it for fun or in what capacity I did it. I instantly said I have so much fun putting things like it together and really enjoy when the chance arises to do something along those lines. End oddball rant about charcuterie boards.

Anyways, back to the evening. We tasted wines, chatted about the book and found ourselves in conversations that wound themselves around a variety of topics. Somehow we came back to the snacks from the evening and my charcuterie board. One woman mentioned that she was surprised I said that I only did it for fun. It was at that moment, I realized I hadn’t championed myself the way that so many others in my life support me. So I did something I’ve never done and changed the narrative. I made it clear that I would absolutely love to do it for more than just fun and would be more than happy to put something together should anyone ever need it.

Even if I never do more with the baking or charcuterie side of life, in that moment, I did something I can’t remember ever doing before. I advocated for myself and finally allowed myself to join those who were already in my corner. And it felt really great. Especially because it wasn’t the awkward, solo, panicked sweating corner I’ve been in before. After my comment, the night continued as it had been. I didn’t get struck down by lighting. No one pointed and laughed like some bad middles school dream. The world hadn’t come crashing down around me. And when I got home, I had the capacity to share details about the evening because my social battery wasn’t dead. Two thumbs up for book club.

What’s really exciting is that two events at book club have given me the opportunity to be social in a way that I wasn’t sure I would ever get to. I didn’t bring a friend as a comfort zone, allowing me to cling to them. I went solo. I’ve connected with other woman in my area. I found a way to be comfortable thinking of myself as others do (even if it was in a very small way), which is a crazy challenge. But all feel like really exciting steps forward.

It’s sometimes hard to recognize those healing moments when they are happening. It’s when the aftermath isn’t actually an aftermath anymore. And when the panic that would stop you in your tracks subsides and actually lets you take that next step. It’s when the corner that you would normally adorn throughout the entire evening is now empty and you’re shockingly engaged in sweat-free conversations. Or when you change the narrative of a conversation to be your own champion. All of those are little snippets, however small they may seem can have a massive overall impact.

I look forward to the next book club event. Hopefully another surge of more confidence and less anxiety. More engaging conversations. More healing on this path forward. But first, I need to remember to buy the damn book. And read it, so I can check off another box on my goal to reading more.