"Come on! You can go!" Wanda pleaded with me over the phone. "We will have a great time!"
My hands were shaking. I was furiously smoking a Doral Light.
"Sorry, I can't," I told her. "I just feel unwell today."
Unwell meant suffering from social anxiety and the assorted phobias.
"Well, I will quit bugging you, but I wish you would come," Wanda said at one feeble last attempt to get me to go and then we hung up our phones.
I slumped deep down in my sofa's cushions and sighed a sigh of relief. The last thing I could take today was being social at an AA cookout. The meetings are hard enough on me.
Many hours have passed and I have what my grandmother always called, "ants in your pants." That on-edge antsy feeling associated with boredom. Now, I am wishing I would have least gone in my car and tried the cookout. That way, I could have left if I felt uncomfortable.