Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 137135 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 686(@200wpm)___ 549(@250wpm)___ 457(@300wpm)
I pull in a breath through my tight throat and stutter out, “I… I…. It’s very hard for me to talk out loud to you for some reason.”
“…for some reason…?” he prompts, and I know what he wants.
It comes out as a whisper. “Sir.” I swallow again, even though there’s absolutely no saliva in my entire body, it seems. I choked on the last of it a few minutes ago.
“Very good girl,” he praises gently, and I’m almost embarrassed by the way my whole mind, body, and soul breathes out a sigh of relief… because I’ve pleased him just by using the moniker. “It is a bit surprising how much you struggle to talk to me after the way you speak so freely in our messages. But at the same time, it makes perfect sense. When we’re chatting over messages, you don’t have to look me in the eye. You don’t have to worry about the way you sit or the tone or volume of your voice. All you have to pay attention to is the words themselves, which is what you are so gifted at.”
My face heats, and the warmth travels to my chest. He’s exactly right—about the why of it—and his compliment makes me bashful. I’ve never been good at receiving compliments, but from him, I can’t even get a thank-you to come out that I always muster up for my sweet readers. My automatic, natural reaction to a commendation is always to downplay it, wave it off, basically hide from it. But being a reader myself and telling my favorite authors how much their books mean to me, I realized how important it is for the writer to know how much I adore them.
If I had told Vi that first time how her books made me feel validated and seen, way less alone in the world, and that her talent was inspiring like nothing else ever had been for me before, and then her response had been “Nah, I’m just all right” or “You need to raise your standards” or something equally as self-deprecating, it would’ve dulled some of the light it brought me by actually putting myself out there enough to tell her how much I loved her. It brings me joy to make others feel accomplished and proud of their work.
So knowing that prospective, I trained myself to fight my urge to blow off compliments and to truly absorb them instead. I know how hard it is for introverts like me to come out of the shadows as social media “lurkers” and not only like or heart a post but to actually comment and praise someone. So when I can pull together enough energy to even check my notifications, the first thing I do is genuinely thank everyone I can before I’m depleted once again.
It's the number-one thing I hate about myself. The one thing I wish I could change more than anything. I wish I wasn’t the type of person who feels completely drained just from interacting with other humans. I don’t remember always feeling this way. But then again, I’m old and social media didn’t always exist. In my younger years, the only interaction with the rest of the world was literally either in person or by talking on the phone. Now, unless you go off into the wilderness, completely unplug, and basically hibernate by yourself, there’s no escaping “connecting” with other people.
And when you try to do that, you’re looked at as rude and selfish.
What the fuck.
But on the other hand, if I were to check my notifications and not have anyone to thank, I would feel like the biggest loser ever. It’s a double-edged sword. If you make it known that social media fucks with your anxiety, then there are those kind and nurturing followers who will think “I’m not going to bother her or freak her out by sending her a message or a comment she’ll feel she has to reply to.”
I don’t know which one’s worse.
Wait, yes, I do.
It feels way worse checking my socials and seeing I don’t have any likes or comments. When all I have are notifications from Marketplace and the automatic keyword search I set up for when someone posts anything about plants, gardening, and boho décor for resale.
Yes, that totally sends me straight to Loser Town, which is way more anxiety-inducing than thanking my sweet followers.
“It all has to do with your desire to please, little one. You gain the most enjoyment from making other people happy. When they try to steer the focus toward you, it makes you uncomfortable, because your happiness comes from giving, not receiving,” he tells me matter-of-factly, and my brows furrow, wondering if he read my mind. But then I sigh, because I did it a-fucking-gain. I mumbled out every one of my thoughts that entered my head in the last couple of minutes as I sat here mindlessly rubbing my finger across my watch face.