Author, editor, attempter of this thing called life. Social anxiety warrior. Re-Connections, a collection of short stories, published with Ocelot Press, 15/10/2025.
I hesitate to file this post under Everyday life in Israel. What happened yesterday doesn’t happen every day. Ten years ago, it felt as if it did. Then a fence was built and, without going into a discussion about whether it was good or bad, it cut down on the number of attacks. Considerably.
So now they attack us in other countries.
When these things happen, everyone knows, everyone listens, everyone feels the loss, even if the victims were unknown to them. And everyone continues as usual and pretends everything is normal because there’s no choice. Perhaps, in this country, that is normality.
Oh, and we write about it. We write about trying to be normal, and we write about how a comedian responds. I’m not a comedian and I’ve never made a good job of trying to be normal, but I’m Israeli and I wanted to say something about this attack on this day.
I think my story has a moral. I haven’t quite worked out exactly what it is!
A Stranger in Floodtown
The rain turned the road into a river. Fortunately the drivers of Floodtown were used to this. As soon as the water level reached their car’s chassis, they pressed the button marked float. The wheels slowly vanished inside the frame and the bottom of the vehicle became more rounded. The drivers waited until the water level was high enough for floating. Then they continued their journey.
Today, Floodtown had a visitor: Darcie from Droughttown. She waited in her car watching all the other cars turning into boats and expecting the same to happen to hers. By the time she realised it wouldn’t, it was too late. Darcie drowned.
Life is strange. So is language. Stroppy Author and Catdownunder both blogged recently about the lack of words in English to describe a situation that we tend to feel is too hard to talk about. I thought of a word that’s missing in Hebrew: assassination. Perhaps it’s right that it’s missing. A leader who is murdered is a human being. All murders are equally bad. Then I thought of another missing word: bullying. That’s an oversight, in my opinion.
When you leave your country of birth to live in a country where a different language is spoken, things happen with your native tongue. Sometimes you forget words, because you’re more used to saying them in the new language. Sometimes new concepts appear and you hear them only in the new language. Sometimes people in the old country find new ways of saying things and you don’t know them.
For example, when I left Britain, “Oh right,” meant, “Do you know I’d forgotten all about that. Thank you for reminding me.” Or something like that. At some stage, on a visit back to my former home country, I realised its meaning had changed. Now it means, “Oh really? I never knew that.”
For years I felt cut off from the changing language. Now that I’m able to listen to BBC Radio 4, I’m more in touch. I know that young interviewees will start most sentences with the word, “So.” And I’ve finally learnt the expression, “to raise awareness,” which is what I want to do to social anxiety.
But when I asked recently how I should say I have social anxiety and people replied, “I live with social anxiety,” I thought that sounded strange. I thought I’d never heard that use before, but I think I had really. I just hadn’t taken much notice of it and certainly hadn’t taken it on board. It was part of my passive vocabulary – the parts I understand but don’t think of using.
And what’s the point of all this rambling? So (yes, I’m pretending to be young) the other day on Woman’s Hour, I heard this: “I don’t live with HIV; HIV lives with me.”
I let that sentence revolve several times in my brain. What did it mean? What does it mean? I wonder if it’s this: she doesn’t let HIV rule her life; HIV happens to be there, but she ignores it as much as possible and gets on with her life.
Taking control of SA
.
Can I apply that to social anxiety? I don’t think so. It comes up too often; it’s the cause of too many things that I wish were different. But that’s something I can aim for. It sounds much more possible than aiming to get rid of social anxiety.
I didn’t take on last week’s challenge – to include the words: I blamed it on the dog.What do I know about dogs? I thought. Yet this week….
The challenge is to include:
…Murray was just about to serve for the Championship when…
Championship Point
Murray, the Scottish Terrier, and Federer, the Swiss Greyhound, were arguing again.
“I’m small and can retrieve things from small places.” Murray stuck his chin up in the air, although it was still well below Federer’s eye level.
“I can run faster and fetch things more quickly.” Federer smirked at Murray from his great height.
They agreed to hold a contest to determine, once and for all, which of them was better able to serve their master.
At the final test, they were still neck-and-neck. Clutching the slipper between his jaws, Murray was just about to serve for the championship when the heavens opened and rain stopped play.
The world I grew up in was very different to today’s world. I would go to school expecting a day of bullying. But I also knew that it would end – that I would come home and be free of it. Lonely but not tormented.
Nowadays, bullying invades homes. On mobile phones, on social media, the four walls are no longer enough to protect children. What a world!
Fortunately, I don’t have any first-hand knowledge of cyberbullying. Not even second-hand. But someone asked me to share this graphic she helped to create, and she’s keen to receive comments and thoughts. I’m doing it because I can’t imagine how awful it would be to never be able to escape the bullies.
That graphic describes the situation in the US. This site gives advice for those in the UK.
Some of us try to make the world a better place, but new challenges keep appearing.
There was an old woman who lived in a teapot. With lots of children. She gave them some broth and sent them to bed and they all lived very happily. Until one day when calamity struck. It was very windy. The wind pushed the lid off. They heard it crash to the ground. Then they looked through the window and saw the little pieces lying on the ground.
The woman and the children waited all day long looking up at the sky in trepidation, knowing what was to come. Finally, it came.
Then they were in hot water.
If you want to know more about the 100-word challenge, click on the picture below.
I’ve just realised why I have a problem telling people about social anxiety – well, one of the problems.
I say, “I suffer from social anxiety.” It’s true – it causes suffering. But I say it because that’s the only way I can think of saying it. It’s not what I really want to say.
When someone says, “I suffer,” it sounds as if they’re asking for sympathy. “Oh you poor thing – I do hope you get better soon.” That kind of thing. But I don’t want sympathy. I’m not some poor, pathetic character who spends her life feeling sorry for herself.
I tell people in the hope that they’ll understand why I am as I am. I tell them so that they’ll know this thing not only exists but is very common, even though it’s seldom mentioned. I want understanding, not sympathy.
And as far as getting rid of it is concerned, I’ve come to the conclusion that no one does that. You can learn to live with it, to do things despite it, to stop letting it restrict you. But it doesn’t go away. It’s always there, somewhere.
Anyway, coming back to the problem – the “suffering” one, how can I explain it without the S-word? Any ideas?
This is not good enough. I need to write other blog posts besides those for 100WCGU. Not that I have anything against 100WCGU, but that’s not all this blog is about. So I will be writing other posts – as soon as I’ve thought of something to say!
In the meantime, here’s another post for
Click the image if you want to join in
This time we have to include the prompt:
… in the dark recess of my mind …
The Listener
So she’s telling me the story in all its detail. Her memory is amazing. She remembers every word they said to each other, every movement, every facial expression. She can describe not only the whole scene but also the people who walked past them. Anonymous souls who have no connection to the story. How does she do it?
I’m staring at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. After each sentence, I’m going “Really?” and “Wow!” and “No!” and “Oh my God!”
Somewhere, in the dark recess of my mind, in that secret place to which she has no access, I’m thinking: Don’t succumb to the temptation to yawn.
This week’s challenge: There’s a real buzz about this place.
Julia says we do not have to include the text, but I did.
“Okay, I’m in the garden, about to pick the lock of the back door.”
“Remember, do exactly what I told you. Nothing else.”
“Sure, boss. You can trust me – you know that. There’s a real buzz about this place.”
“Can’t be. They’re on holiday. There shouldn’t be anyone there.”
“No, I mean a real buzz. A buzzing noise.”
“A motorcycle?”
“No.”
“A neighbour trimming the hedge?”
“No. I think it’s coming from this box. I’ll just lift up the lid….”
“That might not be such a good idea. Sounds as if it might be…”
“Arghhh!”
“…bees.”
Miriam Drori, Author 