It feels like everyone is staring at me, pityingly, scornfully, wondering why I’m not participating in the conversation
I’m sitting in a crowded simchah hall at my first cousin’s wedding. There are so many people here, so many faces.
At my table, the women are schmoozing effortlessly. A comment comes my way, and I nod and smile, trying desperately to be a part of the natural flow of conversation.
But inside, I feel like I’m suffocating. My mind is on overdrive, racing with critical thoughts:
Everybody sees how unsocial you are.
They’re probably wondering why your face is flushed.
Chime in here — your baby also had his tonsils removed.
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