I’m Not Avoiding You, I’m Just Socially Expired

August 1, 2025

Things I’ve learned from a lifetime of loving people... in theory.

I want to be clear about something:
I like people. I do. Really! I DO!

I like them in small batches, spaced out over time, and preferably via meme.

But lately (and by lately, I mean since menopause has taken me out), I find myself needing a full emotional nap after a single lunch with a friend.

Not because the friend was annoying.
Not because I didn’t want to go.
But because I am socially expired.

Here’s what I’ve learned about myself and maybe you too.

Being Social Feels Like a Performance

Even when I’m surrounded by people I love, there’s still a tiny version of me in my head going:

“Don’t say that.”
“That was weird.”
“Why did you laugh like that?”
“Are your arms doing something weird right now???”

It’s exhausting.
I am not built for casual conversation with strangers or anyone who makes me explain what I do for a living. (It’s a vibe, Susan.)

Sometimes I feel like I need cue cards just to go to brunch.

“Maybe” Is My Love Language

Here’s a secret:
When I say “Maybe I’ll come!”
I mean: “There is a 100% chance I’ll flake, but I don’t want you to feel bad about it.”

It’s not because I don’t like you.
It’s because I have no idea how I’ll feel on that day, at that time, in that emotional weather pattern.

“Maybe” is hope. “Maybe” is trying.
“Maybe” is the softest way I can say “I’m too overwhelmed to make commitments right now.”

My Social Battery Is Real, and She Is Fragile

I can be at a party, having a good time, laughing, talking —
and then boom.
A switch flips.
I’ve hit the wall.

The battery goes from 86% to 3% instantly.

And then I need:

Silence
No eye contact
A dark room
Possibly a snack
Definitely a hoodie
And absolutely no follow-up texts about how “quiet” I got

What I’ve learned is: this isn’t me being moody.
This is me malfunctioning softly in public.

I Can Love You and Still Mute Your Texts

This one took me a long time to accept.
I thought being a good friend meant constant communication, always showing up, being “on” 24/7.

But now I know:

I can care deeply about someone… and still hit “Do Not Disturb” for 72 hours straight.
I can miss you… and still cancel plans because I’m socially bankrupt.
I can love you… and also love the sound of absolutely nothing.

It’s not avoidance.
It’s self-preservation.