It All Goes Back to Childhood

Since Mimi has been here being her amazing self, Munchkie's Daddy and I went out on a date last night.  We have learned that it's essential to spend time together, just the two of us.  Sometimes it's hard to meld schedules  and get a babysitter, but last night it all came together.  A friend gave a few restaurant suggestions and so we tried a place we had never been.  We checked out the menu online and decided it fit both of our desires.

Everything was great, we drove there, and as soon as we approached the restaurant I could see through the window the linen table cloths, the black and white dressed waiters and waitresses and the man pouring water with the while linen cloth on his arm.  This is when I immediately began to panic.  I didn't really associate it as panic at first, I just knew that I felt incredibly uncomfortable.  We walked in and I immediately started to look around, see what others were wearing, eating, drinking, how they were eating, I mentally compared myself to them and took notes.  I literally cowered in my seat feeling uncomfortable and overwhelmed.  When the waitress came for drinks, I could hardly order, begging Munchkie's Daddy with my eyes to help me, save me - just over the drinks.  As I was sitting there trying to enjoy this limited time I had to enjoy a nice night out, I realized what was going on inside me.

A few days ago someone told me, everything goes back to your childhood.  They said, you may not realize how or why until much later, or sometimes never, but it all goes back to childhood.  I sat there and this person's comments came to mind.  Over my childhood whenever we went to a nice restaurant, such as this one, it was with my grandparents.  Each time we went out to dinner with them I could sense the anxiety and stress in my own mother and this was passed to me, even as a small child.  Any time we went out with them I would be so anxious that I would not be able to enjoy anything.  Each experience out for dinner made me feel so much pressure, I had to behave perfectly, use my utensils perfectly, order perfectly (no chicken fingers and fries for us), eat perfectly, and then still listen to my grandparent's critique of everything and everyone. I learned to immediately begin to assess the situation when I walked through the door.  Now any time I go into a "nice" restaurant I feel the pressure of being perfect with my grandparents.  I hope that now that I realize the source of the stomach turning and hand shaking so I can sit and completely enjoy a meal with whomever I am eating with.  I don't have to worry about being judged, ridiculed, sarcastic hurtful comments headed my way, or reprimanded for not using the correct utensil.  I can actually comfortably sit, enjoy good company and good food.  Too bad it took me almost the whole meal to sort through how my childhood has impacted my dining out experiences.  Desert was amazing......