Let's Talk

A few days ago, I posted a link to a post about living with social anxiety on my Facebook. It didn't receive very much attention, but the comments it did garner were positive. As I said in response to one of those comments, social anxiety/phobia is the third most common psychological disorder in the United States, but it's one of the least understood. This means there are a whole lot of people out there who suffer crippling fear of social situations and interactions, and very few people who know how to cope or even find help. For a long time, I was among those suffering. Most of the time, it was tolerable. I hated calling people on the phone, talking to strangers in the store, or having to meet new people. I dreaded the inevitable first day introductions in class, and I feared the possibility of someone approaching me for a conversation at a bar. Occasionally I could push through, force myself to speak, smile, answer questions, and a lot of people had no idea I was so afraid. Some of the time, it interfered with my life. I wouldn't go out with my friends, I avoided parties, and if I did go out, I would frequently find myself locked in a bathroom stall, crying, or outside, alone, trying to slow my breathing before I passed out. I remember the day  my social anxiety really reared its head the first time. I was in 8th grade, which happened to be the only year I went to public school. My best/ONLY friend was sick and stayed home from school. I felt completely, unbearably alone. I had a panic attack. Right there in class. It was horribly embarrassing. I was outright sobbing and hyperventilating in front of EVERYONE. The school dealt with this the only way they knew how - they pulled me out of class and sent me to the guidance counselor. Her office was cluttered. It felt small, and I remember I couldn't take anything more than shallow breaths. I was worried there was a limited air supply in the room. She sat across from me on a couch and asked me why I had a panic attack. "I don't know," I said. "I just want to go home." She wanted to know why I didn't want to be at school. "Because I don't belong here," I said. "I don't fit in. No one likes me." "You know," she said, "when I look at you, I think you look like everyone else here. I think you fit in." I didn't know what was worse - that I felt like everyone thought I was weird, or that this strange woman told me she thought I was just like all the pushy, judgmental people I feared. I nodded and left her office. I cried myself to sleep every day of my 8th grade year. This was how I lived for years - much of childhood, all of my college years, and into law school. I never questioned it. It was just how my life was. I learned I could keep people from asking me about it if I played the "Oh, I just don't like people" card. But really, I was afraid people wouldn't like me, so I never gave them the opportunity to reject me. I didn't understand what I felt. I didn't know why. It just was.

I stopped being able to hide it when I started dating my social butterfly boyfriend. When I am glued to my seat, hands locked in a death grip, reminding myself to breathe, he is making new friends, enjoying conversations, and having fun. It was only natural, then, for him to expect that when he was out making new friends, enjoying conversations, and having fun, that I would be with him. At first I tried acting like I just didn't feel like it. Then a couple of times I tried to go, and I would end up leaving early and crying myself to sleep because I felt like such a loser. Soon, it was a huge problem. I had no other choice - I confessed. First, on one of the several nights I stayed home because I was too afraid my boyfriend's friends would reject me, I called my mom. I told her how I afraid I was, and that I secluded myself in fear. Her reaction was one of confusion. My mother is a quiet, shy woman. She doesn't have many casual friends. She doesn't go out to happy hour. She stays home a lot of time. But she didn't understand my outright paranoia, didn't understand the extreme point to which I feared other people and the possibility that they would think I was weird. My mom thinks I am beautiful, likable, charming, and funny, so why would I think other people would think anything different? But she said there was a counseling office right next door to where she worked, and she said she would ask them if they had anyone who could possibly help me with this "problem." We didn't even know what to call it. It was a capital-P problem.

My dad chimed in at one point a few days later, telling me that I could feel better if I just THOUGHT about having fun. I told him that I didn't think the problem was that I wasn't thinking hard enough.

My mom gave me the business card of the counseling center, but it took me a long time to summon the courage to call. I made an appointment with the intern counselor, a girl about my age. My first visit, we talked about why I was there. Not knowing what to call it, I stumbled through story after story of nights spent on the couch in self-imposed seclusion, crying in bathroom stalls, and avoiding places, parties, and events because I was afraid of talking to people. She asked questions, but mostly I just talked. The second visit, we talked about my history - significant deaths, relationships, traumas, etc. She told me that understanding the past helps us understand how to move forward. Moving forward was what we did every other week for the next couple of months. First, she showed me an entry in her psychology book called "Social Phobia." She asked if that sounded familiar, and I said it sounded like they were describing me. Now that we knew what to call the Problem, we knew how to deal with it. She helped me think about situations, picture worst-case scenarios and think about how I would handle those situations if they happened. She talked with me about what it would mean if someone really didn't like me. She didn't tell me to smile smile smile and people would always like me - she took my fear and said, "ok, what if that happens?" It made me see that if a complete stranger doesn't like me, even if that's an irrational fear, it's okay. I felt like I was making progress. I was even able to go to my boyfriend's parent's for dinner and eat! In front of them!

Then my therapist left. She switched counseling centers, and the new counseling center had a wait list, and it was far away, and there were too many little reasons not to call and make an appointment at a new place. It's been a few months since I've been to therapy, and with school, I haven't really had the opportunity to require a lot of help in social situations. Still, there have been problems here and there, and I've watched my boyfriend go out without me a few times, because going out with his friends was still something my therapist and I hadn't covered. I knew I needed to go back, but without impetus, it was easier to put it off.

This past weekend, that impetus arrived. It was my boyfriend's sister's wedding, which meant a lot of new people, including his massive family, a lot of time being alone while my boyfriend performed his groomsmen duties, and I was without my therapist and her rational, pretend scenarios. I anticipated this, and consulted my doctor and he prescribed me Ativan. The Ativan. Oh, the Ativan. The Ativan, it helped. The Ativan has a new preferred spot in my medicine cabinet. We ask the holy Ativan to bless the mean now. Basically, the Ativan got me through, from meeting new people, sharing breathing space with a handful of drunk sorority sisters, and sitting through the reception while my boyfriend was at the wedding party table, to falling asleep when my brain would not stop replaying conversations and thinking about how dumb and awful I sounded. I still had a couple of moments of rockiness, like a panic attack in the parking lot before the rehearsal dinner. But then I sat down and popped an Ativan and like, totally fine, then, you guys.

I'm not going to give up the pursuit of therapy for drugs, though. I know it's important to have coping strategies and to develop the ability to one day put my social phobia behind me. I also know that more than drugs, support is essential to a person struggling with social phobia. I have been very fortunate in that aspect, and in fact, getting through the wedding and reception would not have happened if not for people I know I can rely on, people who understand my situation and care enough about me to sacrifice their Saturday nights and get up at 5 a.m. so they can sit through the wedding and reception of complete strangers.

That's why, even if you don't personally suffer from social phobia, it's important to educate yourself and learn about social phobia if someone you love or care about struggles with it. Their healing and progress depends on having people who will be patient and help them. That means you have to listen. And don't judge. We know you don't understand. Don't tell us we're being irrational. A lot of us KNOW it's irrational, but that doesn't stop the thoughts and fears from overwhelming us. For me, I need someone who will stay next to me, not put pressure on me, cover for me when I can't say anything, and go outside with me when I need to breathe. I don't know what someone else needs. It could be opposite, or the same. Be open to whatever it is, and do it. Do not ask why. Do not stop. Do not pass go. Do not collect $200.

If you do suffer from social phobia, I want you to get help. Social phobia hurts, and I know firsthand it can hurt your relationships. At some point, your friends are going to get sick of you bailing on them, and they're going to stop asking you to go with them. Your boyfriend will get frustrated telling his friends your sick/busy with school/on vacation and that's why you can't go out. You won't grow out of it, and it won't go away unless you do something about it. Social phobia is a trap that keeps you alone, in your house. It keeps you from growing, creating memories, and living your life.Whether it's therapy, drugs, or a combination of both, you can escape.

So, that's my experience, followed by my mini-sermon. This is the first time I have been completely honest with everyone about my life, and I'm doing it because I think people need to know that they are not alone. The more we stigmatize something, the more difficult it is to seek help. If we're open about scary things, they are more conquerable. So I'm taking the first step here and officially coming out. I have social phobia, and I am getting help.

You don't have to say anything here, but if you are also suffering and want to talk, or if you know someone who is suffering from social phobia and you want to help, feel free to contact me. I am not going to pretend I don't have all the answers, or any of the answers. I believe social phobia is a personal thing, and not one person's social phobia is going to be exactly the same as anyone else's, as far as you experience or treat it. But I want people to feel free to talk about these things. I'll listen.