Ramble : How Social Anxiety Feels

I have extreme social anxiety. I have a social disorder. And no-one ever seems to understand why I don’t like leaving my home. So I’m going to write this post.

Imagine you’re standing in a pool. When you’re at home, by yourself, you can sit at the bottom of this pool and not worry about everything. Every person near you adds just a little water to the pool. Some people a lot more than others. When you go to big events, where there’s lots and lots of people, the pool will fill up. It will go up past your head, and you can’t swim, so you’ll be gasping for air and terrified and trying to paddle to the surface, but more people just keep coming and coming so more water will go into your metaphorical pool until you can’t breathe. And that’s the part of social functions where I retreat into the bathroom to have a panic attack. This happens about 99.999% of the time I go to social functions.

Any other socially anxious people who can relate?

Reflection : An Extrovert With Crippling Anxiety

I have a confession to make.

I call myself an introvert in defense when my family asks why I only have one or two friends, and that’s partly true, I don’t mind keeping myself company for a long time, but I love making friends and talking to people.

Which is why it’s so hard to have terrible anxiety.

I have an anxiety/social disorder, which contributes, but like last week, I went to a book club, and I was so nervous my stomach knotted up and I could barely say two words there in fear of being judged, of saying the wrong thing. I picked at the webbing of my fingers until it turned raw and inflamed red, because I was so nervous. When I got home and was lying in bed that night, I replayed every. single. word I said and told myself how stupid they were, how I could have phrased that so much better, how everyone is going to think I’m some dumb dork.

All I really want are friends, people I can talk to, but it’s so hard to have those, to make those, when I can barely speak to people without picking my skin raw and feeling like I’m going to vomit. I almost had a panic attack when I had to make small talk a few weeks ago. I can’t even call people on the phone because I’m so terrified of awkward silences, of saying something stupid. This all sounds dumb, now that I’m typing it out, but it’s anything but when I’m standing there, picking at my skin, hyperventilating, feeling like I’m going to vomit, just because I have to talk to strangers.

I wish I could just post an ad for a friend. ‘Wanted : someone with an interest in books/writing to be the friend of a socially awkward teenager. Preferably random, not minding awkward silences, and not a serial killer. Apply today!’ Oh, that would be wonderful. Although with my luck, serial killers would disregard the ‘not a serial killer’ bit, and I’d end up dead because of my need for communication. I tend to think the worst of things.

So, I’m a pessimistic extrovert with crippling anxiety, what are you?

Reflection : Daydreams

I daydream a lot.

I’ve done this my whole life, my mom told me once when I was little I had such a hard time distinguishing between fantasy and reality I would tell strangers stories about my day at school that I’d made up in my head. I’ve always lived in my head. I read up on my social disorder once, a couple of years ago, when I realized how many things I had in common with other people with it, and I found this is also common.

My family normally puts up with my weird quirks, like the way I’ll pace for hours in counter-clockwise circles on my tip-toes when I’m contemplating something (at least, a little less than half my family members remain silent whilst I’m doing it) but they finally got upset when, for the umpteenth time, I became so lost in my daydream that I had to ask them to repeat the sentence they just said, because I honestly didn’t hear a word.

‘Why do you get lost in your head all the time?’ My step-mom (she has a more complicated title than this, but I’m too tired to go into specifics) asked me this once, frustrated at me.

I don’t remember what I replied, but I clearly remember what I thought immediately : I’ll stop daydreaming when reality becomes better than my daydreams.

This thought came back to me, a few minutes ago, when I was listening to music and daydreaming I was in a music video (I think this is something most teenage girls have done, though, however secretly) and it’s why I thought of writing this post.

I’ll stop daydreaming when reality becomes better than my daydreams.

I truthfully don’t think this will ever happen, I’m secretly extremely pessimistic, and as such I’m always thinking about the worst things that can happen. Truthfully, the reason why daydreaming is so much better than reality is I can control my daydreams. People only die when I want them to, there will only be unexpected bills when I want there to be, the cat will only escape when I want them to, etc. These little annoyances in life are like the turbulence on an airplane, it makes the ride a bit bumpy, and it can sometimes be a bit scary, but normally the beautiful view out the window (unless you’re trapped in the aisle-seat with a heavyset older woman asleep on your shoulder and breathing morning breath on you) and the destination at the end of the ride are ultimately worth it. Can you tell I suck at metaphors?

Well, that was lengthy and rambly, maybe I should change this from a reflection to a ramble.  I tried to let you guys in my head a bit, and I guess I might have accomplished that.. Do you daydream a lot? Do you have any other odd little quirks? Let me know in a comment.