Social Anxiety – An Open Letter
Dear friend,
You are not alone in your social anxiety. I see your struggle behind that smile that fools so many. I see how badly you wish it would stop. Maybe you wonder what’s wrong with you – things that are easy for others might feel panic inducing to you. Social anxiety comes in countless sizes, shapes, and colors, but whatever version resides in your chest, I see you, I feel for you, and I am right there with you.
As a child, I was painfully shy.
Chances are, if I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t talk to you. Tears would crowd my eyes as I stood in a room full of others kids, panic washing over me because I didn’t know what to do and I was too afraid of making a social mistake. In class, I never felt comfortable giving presentations as myself. I would come up with any excuse to put on a costume and be somebody else, even dressing up as my dog to give a presentation on myself. Much of my youth was spent wanting to sink into the floor.
I decided I didn’t want to be shy anymore in high school.
I didn’t want the stress, the awkwardness, or that feeling of both my heart and throat being constricted in the same breath. After a couple of years of theater camp, I put my acting skills to use when my freshman year rolled around. Fake it till you make it, right? But I never made it. The anxiety was there behind it all the whole time.
Lights up on set on a drama production in my sophomore year of high school and I was suddenly in leading role.
I could vault onto the railing of our pirate ship set and belt my solo song, Guns N’ Roses “Welcome to the Jungle,” while dancing on my own in front of a packed house. But sitting on the floor with the other cast members at our first rehearsal, my song came on and I froze. I always wanted to sing and dance, and here it is, my opportunity served up on a platter, but I couldn’t take it. What if I made a mistake? What if they all laughed at me? The thought of being abandoned by everybody was always lurking at the back of my mind.
I was dying to play out my dreams, but let opportunity after opportunity slip between my fingers.
Over the years, I set myself up for dream after dream, only to drop them like they had burned my hands when the moment came to shine. Blogs, photography, writing, and countless applications for things were left in my wake. When I did follow through, like becoming co-president of a mental health club in college, I spent most of my time feeling wildly unqualified even when I knew I wasn’t. I could feel proud of something in private, eager to share it, but would inevitably tuck it away for fear of criticism.
Even posting on my blog makes my heart constrict. I legitimately question my qualifications to talk about mental illness sometimes despite studying it in school and living with it my whole life. And I worry that I’ll get backlash or that nobody will care at all. It makes me feel very vulnerable, like I’m sharing a little part of my soul. It’s terrifying and a little heartbreaking sometimes.
It often feels like social anxiety owns me.
Even something as simple as going to the gas station alone can nearly induce a panic attack. I know it doesn’t make sense. I mean, really, what is going to happen in the time that it takes to fill up my gas tank? My mind has an endless list of answers and it kills me. I know I shouldn’t care what others think of me, particularly strangers. I’m well aware that my fears are unreasonable. But knowing that doesn’t seem to make a difference for me.
Phones terrify me, but one of my tasks at work is to answer client calls. I feel a jolt of anxiety every time the phone rings. What if I say something stupid? What if I misunderstand the caller or they get frustrated with me? Texting and email are my best friends because they allow me to edit, but I can easily waste 15 minutes perfecting a three sentence email at work. I obsess over every detail – tone, clarity, using just the right punctuation to come across as friendly, yet professional rather than cold and rude.
Even casual conversation feels like a minefield.
My thoughts are deafening. All the “what ifs” scream in a painful chorus and I’m drenched in panic. What if they realize I’m nothing? What if they hate me? Or what if they find out something is wrong with me? I second-guess everything, and any mildly insensitive statement or joke is grounds for my mind to build a tower of distress. And I will inevitably obsess about these instances for days. It’s like I’m walking on a slender ledge. One small misstep and I go crashing down. My social anxiety brings me to my knees constantly.
When I meet new people I write fan fiction in my head, but about normal conversations. I fantasize about talking to someone about the things I’m proud of without feeling conceited. They’re impressed and I feel witty and cool. I tell stories and kind of even like myself. There’s no romance involved, just dreams of the calm, confident person who I want to embody but am afraid to actually be.
So you see, you aren’t alone.
Your experiences and responses may be very different than mine, but, at least to some degree, I can relate to what you’re going through. I understand the hair-pulling frustration of knowing your social anxiety can be unreasonable. Neither of us are alone in hesitating, putting off, or even avoiding chasing our dreams. And remember that even when you get exactly what you want, you aren’t alone if it doesn’t feel good all the time.
I wish that I could take away your anxiety and distress. I know this isn’t the same. But I need you to know that you are never alone this. When it feels like everyone hates you, when you start to question things, and when you start to feel like you are fundamentally different than everyone else, remember this letter. Remember that you truly are not alone.
Sincerely, Katie
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