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?
Rambles and Reflections 