I used to think that I did a good job of hiding my social anxiety, however, what I have come to find is that my anxiety is excruciatingly obvious and everyone can tell.
I tend to be good with people one on one, however, if I am in a group of more than a couple of people that I am unfamiliar with, I am instantaneously nervous, withdrawn and exhausted to the point where I appear clinically insane.
Perceiving threat, my lizard brain considers it's options:
Although options theoretically, fight or flight are not technically viable by human social standards. So, my brain bypasses fight or flight and immediately deploys the freeze response.
However, freezing and playing dead doesn't really work when out in public either...
...and like a deer in the headlights, I am paralysed while an embarrassing predicament of my own making comes hurtling towards me.
Everyone's weirded out. I wish I could hide my social anxiety but I can't. I am a social disaster. It may as well be written all over my face.
Then, adding insult to injury, are peoples remarks and suggestions on how I should fix my shyness.
If I'm going to be put on the spot anyway, perhaps it would be easier for me to just burst into the room with a megaphone and cymbals and perform a showcase where I blaringly declare my shyness.
The truth is, my whole life people have told me that I am too
quiet or 'different' and, although well-meaning, the message that I have received since childhood is that there
is something seriously wrong with me.
Unfortunately, simply being an introvert alone is terribly
undervalued in our society. We are
taught that you have more value if you are extroverted. At least then, I
guess,
you can be a salesperson. But if you are not extroverted, you are
supposedly doomed to spend your life in the 'back end' room of an
office, perpetually muttering about finding your stapler.
That's not to say that I don't understand peoples concern. There is nothing imminently threatening about talking to people so why would I find it so hard? But unfortunately, I do. If it was my job to save the world from impending doom and all I had to do to prevent it was make eye contact and introduce myself to the nearest stranger, the world would likely end.
On the flip side to this, if the world depended on me going outside and introducing myself to the nearest cat, I would be a hero.
What would cause me to arrive at this conclusion? It was never my goal to live a secluded existence surrounded by cats. Cat memes and half a bottle of red wine every night won't fulfill me forever.
Sure, I'm fond of them but they fall a little short if you want to have a normal human conversation.
This line of conversation might be fine if you're a cannibal or serial killer, neither of which am I so I can't spend all of my time talking to cats. But at least they never tell me what they truly think of me. Perhaps this is my problem.
It has recently occurred to me that over the years I have built a wall around me, brick by brick.
As I got older, the wall got bigger and bigger
I got quite good at building it.
Until eventually I was surrounded by an impenetrable jail of my own making.
When did the walls get so high? My main objective was survival but now no one can get in and I can't get out. I'm going to DIE in here...
I HAVE TO GET OUT.
And so starts the journey of climbing out of it.
It feels like a treacherous climb.
But I'm sure it will be worth the work in the end.
