Meeting a spouse’s parents always feels like quite an important occasion to me.
My relationships with them in the past have been….random. When i lived with Lauren in 2012, her Mum and myself got on great. That disintegrated after several months (most likely due to my chronic depression, lack of employment and the fact that 4 of us lived in a relatively small 3 bedroom house).
The other extreme is Jack’s Mum. I can’t describe the level of love i have for her, and his little sister. They were my family, and now 6 months after splitting with him, they still are.
I never seem to have a middle ground.
I don’t believe my scars have ever actually been mentioned by anybody’s parents before, but it doesn’t stop me worrying.
I’m terrified they’ll notice and never look at me in the same way – either with pity or disgust. I’ve spent the past nearly 7 years seeing people’s eyes widen when they scan over my arms, or flicker down when i’m talking to them. The customers i serve at work do it on a regular basis. It’s human nature to make instant judgement’s and i can almost feel the ones people make about me. Weak and something to be fussed over. Pathetic. Dangerous and unpredictable. Depressive and somebody who will bring everyone down with them. Not a girl you want your son to date, or marry.
I already struggle with social anxiety, having visible scars just feeds that demon.
This worry also stems from how my parents reacted when i dated someone who self harmed. Granted, the person in question was in a very serious downward spiral at the time. They had gone through things i can’t even begin to imagine and suffered because of it. My Mum blamed them for my self harming and depression. I wouldn’t say she hated them, but even bringing up that person’s name now gets me instant silence from Mum, shortly followed by a change of subject.
I want to make the best impression i possibly can. Usually that would mean wearing long sleeves until i felt confident enough that they liked me to wear short ones. I don’t think long sleeves will go down well at a BBQ (meaning i don’t want to make a bad impression by melting into a puddle of sweat and eyeliner).
Short sleeves are really my only option.
Let’s hope they don’t see them.