Last month I went to Lubbock’s fourth annual Renaissance Fair, and I had fun.
That’s it; that’s the whole story. 😄
But really…
I went somewhere and did something that I wanted to do — and I didn’t freak out; I didn’t get overwhelmed; I didn’t lose my mind and have to run away and hide…
Well…
Not at the Fair, anyway.
I did lose my mind the morning of the Fair, before I left home.
I sobbed and I screamed and I felt like my mind was being torn in two… and I told myself it was too much, and I wasn’t ready, and I’d be better off staying home and at least I could say I tried… and maybe next year I’ll be able to, but today? It’s just still too soon. I’m just not ready yet to be around other people, the way I really want to be…
And I believed that.
But against my own judgment, I didn’t listen to that belief. I didn’t allow it to make the choice for me.
I cried for several hours, loud enough that I’m honestly surprised my neighbors didn’t call in a welfare check. I mean, it was bad! I didn’t know if I was ever going to stop crying… or if this was the event that was going to put me back in the mental hospital.
And then, as quickly as it came on, it was over.
I cried my last tear, sobbed my last sob, and the mental fog lifted, and my breathing went back to normal, and I got up and got in the shower and got dressed, and called an Uber…
And I got to the Renaissance Fair just as it was opening for the day.
I was dead tired — and emotionally drained — but I had committed to myself, that I was gonna go to the Fair, and so I did.
I told myself on the ride over, that if I really was too tired, or too drained, or if at any time I felt the least bit uncomfortable, that as long as I show up and spend at least five minutes there, if I have to go home because that five minutes is all I can take… I still went.
It’s still a victory.
Even if I lose my mind and start bawling in front of everybody and they have to take me to some back corner until I can get myself under control enough to get an Uber home!
Even if I get so panicked and overwhelmed that I pee my pants! (Which thankfully has never happened to me in my life! But you never know what anxiety can make you do if it gets bad enough.)
Even if the Fair is stupid, and boring, and I hate everybody and the whole thing just makes me wish I’d never gone…
As long as I show up and give it a good five minutes before deciding to go back home and regret the whole outing, I still get credit for going, and for doing the thing that had me so afraid and so overwhelmed that I had to spend two whole hours in my apartment, sobbing hysterically, just at the thought of showing up at the entrance and being judged then and there for “obviously not knowing what I’m doing there, and clearly signaling to the entire crowd that I don’t belong.”
So that was my mindset when I got out of the car and presented my ticket to the ticket taker.
I didn’t know how long I would stay; I didn’t know if I’d be able to have a good time (or if the whole thing would even be big enough for me to have a good time, since there were only about 30 vendors in the whole Fair….)
I hoped however long I did stay, would be enjoyable, and I’d be able to go home at the end of it, feeling victorious, feeling glad I went, and in possession now of evidence that I can do things that frighten and overwhelm me, and can actually have fun doing those things…
And I wound up staying at the Renaissance Fair for ten hours! (And it was technically only open for eight! But there was a D&D-inspired comedy show after the Fair, that I decided to stay for, because I had had so much fun already that I didn’t want the experience to end.)
Here’s how my day went, more or less:
I showed up, got past the ticket takers, and automatically felt nervous because I didn’t know where everything was or where I wanted to start, and I didn’t want everybody to see me and know I was insecure.
So I looked straight ahead, and I walked to the first booth I saw, and I just looked at the things they had on display. And if something interested me, I took a longer look. And if it didn’t interest me, I just moved on to the next booth.
I did that for a little while, then I decided to get some food, and sit down and eat my food and just watch the crowd for a bit.
And I basically just repeated that pattern, over and over again, until eight hours had gone by, and the Fair was over and most of the crowd was going home.
Sometimes I talked to the people running the booths. Sometimes I talked to the people in line with me, waiting their turn to order food. Sometimes I just sat down near other people and ate my food in silence.
At one point, I entered one of the side buildings, and found myself sitting at a table with about 7 other people, mostly teenagers, painting a Warhammer miniature and then spending about 20 minutes playing a short campaign to learn about the game.
And while I was painting my miniature I actually had a pretty lengthy conversation with the young man sitting next to me, where he told me about the game, and why he loved Warhammer and other tabletop games like it, and we complimented each other on our (obviously very amateur) painting abilities…
And there were a few moments, especially at the painting table, where I did feel insecure and a little bit out of place… but honestly? For most of those eight hours I felt psychologically safe, secure, and generally happy to be around other people.
The Renaissance Fair as a Renaissance Fair was severely lacking — especially compared to Fairs I went to as a teenager, when we’d have to drive three hours away from home just to get there, and then there would be hundreds of booths; live action jousting and sword-fighting; comedy routines throughout the day with court jesters, magicians, and princesses; “museums” where they had all kinds of gory displays inside of the Spanish Inquisition…
And multiple vendors selling real swords and armor like they would’ve worn in the Middle Ages…
The Lubbock Renaissance Fair didn’t have all that really cool stuff. (And in fact, they didn’t even have enough turkey legs! As I sadly discovered when I was about tenth in line and the person at the front turned around and shouted, “They’re out of turkey legs!” So, that was not a high point for me…)
But what it did have, apparently, was enough safety, security, entertainment, excitement, and connection, to keep me engaged for an entire eight hours! And then for two hours more, after I paid an additional $5 for a ticket to the comedy show.
As a Renaissance Fair, I probably wouldn’t go back next year. It honestly didn’t have any of the cool, exciting features I would expect to find at a legitimate, full-scale Renaissance Fair.
But, as a reason to get out of the apartment and enjoy being around other people for a day (and maybe score a turkey leg, if I remember to order one for lunch instead of waiting until dinner time)…
10/10 I would do it again.
It’s the first outing of its kind that I’ve participated in, in Lubbock. Every time in the past, I’ve been too afraid. Too overwhelmed. Too intimidated.
But now…
Now I know…
Even when I am afraid…
If I just show up and give it a good five minutes, I can enjoy myself in public, and I can feel safe and comfortable around other people, so much so that I can come home from the event and be glad I went.
Now, that doesn’t mean every event going forward is going to be fun, or great, or an overwhelming success, or that I’ll stay for ten hours because I never want it to end!
But it does mean I have evidence that I’m capable of going and doing things I want to go and do, even when the initial thought of doing those things makes me sob uncontrollably for two hours straight, before I even get out the front door.
And a year ago, I would’ve sobbed for two hours and then stayed home.
So… I’m just saying.
If I’m going to sob anyway — I might as well go have fun afterwards.
Now that I have evidence that I can.