Folks with social anxiety are all around you. Yes, we were probably at that meeting the other day together — I’m the one who didn’t talk. You might have noticed the sheen of sweat that gathered on my forehead as time went on. I watched everyone carefully, and if we met eyes, I smiled at you. Then I probably turned slightly away from you, a body signal to discourage small talk. I was scared of you — an irrational emotion – but there just the same. I sat and tried very hard not to be overwhelmed by the number of people in the room, the noise level that made it difficult to focus, and the rising fear consuming me.
Or maybe I was the one who made plans for the playdate with our kids and chickened out at the last minute. Perhaps I did go but was too nervous to make plans for a new one, even though I enjoyed your company.
Especially if you caught me during PMS. Especially now that I’m in menopause (and I thought PMS was bad!). Because on top of all my other anxieties… for that week or so, at completely random times when my body decides to be hormonal, I am convinced that the entire world hates me.
BUT I don’t hate you. It’s just social anxiety.
I really do, at times, believe that you hate me. Not for any specific reason. Logically, I know that I am a good and caring person. Most people would describe me as kind, thoughtful, and even sometimes a little funny. I am loyal, trustworthy, and extremely nonjudgmental. And even if we have already been friends for years and you are used to my strange ways, and I know that you love me—I could still think for a short while that you hate me.
You should know that if you make me try to see you in person too often before I feel truly safe with you — I can withdraw and come up with thousands of reasons not to hang out. And if I do force myself to go, I will stumble over my words and sweat bullets in your presence. Unfortunately, the phone can often be just as tricky. I have auditory processing issues and throwing in the high anxiety and ADHD means that focusing on your words can prove to be an insurmountable task. Texting is better, but I hate it for being so impersonal. (I do know how contradictory I sound.)
Just to clarify, I probably will not call you back.
Email used to be good. I could answer at my leisure and take my time deciding what and how to say things. However, I no longer bother opening my emails. The pressure got to be too much.
Facebook Can Work for Some With Social Anxiety
Facebook was fantastic. Before I left my original account (with my married name). With a couple thousand *friends* and almost 5,000 liked pages (there’s that ADHD thing showing), my newsfeed got very crowded. I would often have to visit individual pages to find out what has been going on in my real-life friends’ lives. The divorce happened, and I didn’t feel free there. And oh my goodness, when politics made people’s values glaringly obvious – I had to leave there also.
I tried to go back to Facebook a few times since 2019. I briefly had an anonymous one to keep up with certain interest groups I still wanted to read. Then I got brave and created a fresh account with no baggage of anyone who could be connected to people I no longer wanted to be connected to, but it didn’t last long.
In July of 2024, the weight of another toxic friendship that I was trapped in became too much to bear, and I began to withdraw again. It’s November, and I wish I could say thank you to the people who sent me birthday wishes in August — but I cannot get myself to talk to anyone at the moment.
As I write this part, it is November 2024, and I’m calling this my Silent Era, where I am embracing the Social Anxiety for what it is and what masking (among other things) for the last five years did to my psyche. I still love my friends, especially those who pop their heads in once in a while in my text messages. Unfortunately, speaking to people outside of my immediate family doesn’t seem to be on my *mental menu* for the time being.
(Back in the day) I will would do social things for my young children (they are all in college now and I originally wrote this piece when they were in elementary school). After taking a Klonopin (not sponsored/just an explanation), I’d be able to run that class event or like in previous years, teach those Meet the Master sessions, and even take them to your child’s birthday party.
And if you are nice enough to try with me and we hang out more than twice, perhaps you can hear the echoes of Sally Field in my head: They like me. They really like me.
What should you do if you encounter a face similar to mine at the next PTA meeting or the gym? You notice the raw fear in her eyes, gauging the distance from where she sits to the nearest door to escape from. What do you do if you happen to be the type of person who wants to help put her at ease? Just be yourself, which will allow her to feel safer. Perhaps you are a take-charge personality type, so it is okay to be the one to make the bulk of the plans in the beginning, maybe meeting her at the park or for a quiet lunch, nothing too crowded.
By doing so, you may wind up with a super empathic personal cheerleader-type friend who will know you for the Goddess that you are for putting up with all of her quirks.
As I originally wrote this when my children were all under the age of 10, and now they are adults, so I no longer have their activities to push me out of my comfort zone. The good news is I can share that a little maturity through natural aging and all of that practice of doing those things because of them ended up helping in ways that I cannot put into words. Additionally, becoming a divorced mother to three when they were all still in elementary school ended up giving me a sense of self-confidence and a level of bravery that I did not have at the time this I wrote this the first time.
Nothing and everything has changed with my social anxiety, as with most things in life.
What about you? Have you ever felt this way? Let’s start a conversation because I can definitely handle the comments section!
