"In short? It's exhausting being me. Pretending to be normal is draining and requires amazing amounts of energy and Xanax." ~ Jenny Lawson
My resting bitch face (RBF) (I'm Not Mad. That's Just My RBF.) must be softening because a student informed me the other day at the college where I work that I "always seem so happy!" I was sure I must have misheard her, so I stopped and asked, "I do?!" She responded affirmatively, I went on my way, and the social exchange truthfully brightened my day.
Why? Because it means I'm doing something right if my inner peace and compassion are reflected in my demeanor. That hasn't always been true. (In fact, my annual resolution is always to smile more frequently.) You see, when you're afflicted with social anxiety, as I am, you're inevitably misunderstood and misjudged. You're dismissed as "unfriendly," "snobby," "serious," "shy," "uninvolved," "uninterested," "intense," "intimidating," and "humorless," when you're often anything but.
When you avoid social situations (in an attempt to avoid accompanying panic attacks), people tend to take it personally (and being a small-talk-averse introvert doesn't help matters). They inevitably think you don't like them (individually) when you're honestly afraid of them (collectively). (And while I wish people in general were more accepting and less judgmental of others who behave differently than them, I realize that I need to do my part.)
As a result of my social anxiety, my fear of saying and doing the wrong thing (at the wrong time) paralyzes me. I freeze, unable to say anything at all (making my fear a self-fulfilling prophecy). If a friend invites me to go out, my first instinct is to find an excuse not to, not because I don't want to but because the fear, which ranges from mild to moderate to occasionally five-alarm severe, controls me. So, sometimes when walking down the hall at work my chest and throat tighten and my heart pounds, even if I know and like the person walking by me. It's totally irrational (I realize) but normal for me.
But "normal" is such a tricky word. Thing is, I wish I'd known years ago, even as a preteen when going to school and the grocery store (and often staying in the car rather than entering the big, scary, potentially schoolmate-laden store) inspired feelings of terror within me, that I wasn't the only one who only felt safe at home, with my family (people I knew), hiding out from the world between the pages of an ever-present book (ranging from Sweet Valley High to celebrity biographies).
I felt the same way reading Jenny Lawson's Let's Pretend This Never Happened as I did reading Susan Cain's Quiet: Where was this book 20 years ago when I felt freakish and alone and wondered what the hell was wrong with me? Why did leaving the house and, God forbid, talking to non-family members make me feel faint and panicky?
Now I know. I wish I did then.
Anyway, if the first step in solving a problem is recognizing and defining the issue, then I'm on my way. As I've written many times before, I've begun challenging myself to overcome my myriad fears, a neverending venture when you have as many phobias as I do. (I'm like Amazon.com: you name it, I've got it...)
I'm no longer content with avoiding everyday social situations that require some type of conversation. And obviously some things can't be avoided, like work, grocery shopping (if there's a way to avoid this, please let me know!), library patronage, doctor's appointments, leaving my apartment, etc. Little things like driving to a local coffee chain located at a traffic-heavy end of town for an iced coffee had me so fearful of a fender-bender that I'd previously driven to a more rural, out-of-the-way one to avoid it. Things that make no logical sense are perfectly logical when you have an anxiety disorder.
But I'm making progress. Not only did I make that trip to the coffee shop, get an iced coffee, and escape with my life (narrowly, perhaps, but victoriously), but I'm meeting up with some friends from high school this weekend (a kind of safer mini-reunion to make up for the one that I couldn't handle this past summer). True, these are some of the best friends I've ever had, so I shouldn't feel anxious, but I haven't seen them in several years. What if they don't like the person I've become (or vice versa)?
There's plenty to worry about if I think about it (or anything else) long enough. But that's okay.
I'm doing it anyway.
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