Unsociable, That's What I am

I've procrastinated so much, I'm now inundated with work, chores and projects. I used to think I work better cramming everything at the last minute. Maybe it was the adrenaline rush or just the fact that both my body and mind were working together to accomplish something under high pressure. But now, all those procrastination and high pressure shenanigans have come to bite my arse. I think I'm getting too old for it. *sigh*

So I'm working on an article, which means I have to talk to people before I can write something. I've been successful at getting away with just communicating via email during the past weeks. But since deadline is looming and I've yet to get answers from sources (who are probably procrastinating like me), I need to harass them. This means, I would have to call them, actually speak words to them and sound urgently earnest. Some of the people I'm going to call are acquaintances that I haven't 'talked' to since Kai died. I haven't seen them face-to-face either. So there's a lot of trepidation on my part. How will I start that conversation?

Me: Hey it's me. How are you?
Acquaintance: Oh hi. I'm good. How about you? How are you doing these days?
Me: I'm fine. There are bad days and good days.
Acquaintance: I know what you mean. I've been having bad days lately. My car got blah-blah-blah...
Me: *listens patiently and says something to let him know I'm still there*
Acquaintance: By the way, I heard from so-and-so about what happened. I'm sorry for you loss. 
Are you going to try again? I hope you do...blah-blah-blah...
Me: Thank you. No, I'm not ready yet. It has only been 3 months and 2 weeks since my son died. 
I'm still sad about it.
Acquaintance: *awkward silence*
Me: Oh yeah, before I forget, I need you to answer the questions I sent you a couple of days ago. 
My deadline is approaching. Can you send it by today? I'd appreciate the help.
Acquaintance: Sure. No problem.
Me: Thanks. You're a peach. (I don't really use that expression. But for lack of better words to end that phone call amicably, I think it will suffice.)

I had a phone conversation with a friend last Tuesday. She greeted me in her usual boisterous voice. I, on the other hand, tried to match her enthusiasm, which is what I usually do when we talk. But this time, I felt a distance in my tone.

"Have you recovered?" she asked. "Physically, I'm doing well. I'm still sad, though," I said. I sensed she was uncomfortable with my reply. Her breathing changed slightly like she was forcing the right words out of her nose. "Well...at least you got a chance to meet him. That's good, right?" she said cheerfully. I managed to say something like, "Yeah," before falling silent.

She took that as a cue to proceed with her story and I lent my ear without commitment. My replies were automatic and hollow. My enthusiasm was waning fast. I told her I have a deadline to deal with and cut our phone call short. She said goodbye in her usual bubbly manner, while I said mine limply. If only she knew I was trying my damndest not to cry on the other line.

That's why I don't easily accept offers to talk over coffee. Not at this time. Before Kai, I would have readily agreed to it. It's just that I feel that friends and colleagues would like me to be normal again, to be back to the way I was before. It's like there's this high pressure to conform, to be easy to deal with in their presence. But that's not happening soon. There's a time limit to my fakery. And when the time is up, I revert back to being sad and in grief. And this makes me a not-so-good company.

Sure, there are days that I feel I'm back to my old self again. I laugh. I joke. I even manage to sing along to some tunes I like on the radio. But only when I'm with my husband. With friends and people I barely know, I could only do it for a short while. Like I said, the fake me has a time limit. It's like Cinderella, it needs to return home before it changes to something unappealing.

I know someday I'll be able to feel at ease in the company of friends and acquaintances again. And when that day comes, I'm also hopeful that they, in turn, will feel comfortable accepting and being around the new me.