Despite the fact that this has been a good morning, and I have no immediately conceivable reason to feel lonely or upset there is a sense of a huge burden on my shoulders. I am aware of possible sources of this anxiety. Any kind of social confusion or lack of control instantly sends me into a distressed state. I am confident about a number of things: being intelligent, being at the very least somewhat attractive and I am decently confident in my sense of humor. Don't worry, I'm not writing this to tell you how much self-confidence I have; anyone who has caught me on a bad night after ten pm will inform you of how quickly this self-assuredness can crumble.
The tricky thing with being confident about friends or just interactions with people in general is the total lack of control. You can't really control how people perceive you, unless you want them to dislike you, which is simple to control by brazenly pointing out some character flaws or physical imperfections. I am good at that sort of thing, but find it harder to get people to really be into my sweeter albeit more obnoxious side.
I think what scares me the most about other people is developing unreciprocated attachments. By chance, this has most often been the case for me. Over time, my fear has increased as each failure has dominated my every day thoughts. My fear has alternately made me more vulnerable and more closed off. If I am scared for a second that something might work out, I try my hardest to sabotage it. I view everything as temporary; I feel like if I accelerate towards the end of something, I am doing myself a favor and sparing myself emotional pain.
I can almost predict what my new therapist would say about this. I can feel her eyes alternating between wanting to fix me and feeling immense pity for me. I want to change being scared, but I know she would tell me that this takes time. I feel things with such polarity: events either bring ecstasy or distress. If I want to fix this problem, she would advise me to try moving towards a neutral step first. But what could this "neutral step" mean? How can we bring ourselves to being scared of opening up to something neutral? Also, how can we fix something that is partially up to chance. Some people I meet will not be enamored with my personality. Some people will be judgmental about the things I say, ignoring any significance that lurks beneath my harsh exterior. I cannot control everything.
To me, "neutrality" always seemed like feigning emotional detachment. The moment I let slip that I wasn't heartless has been the be and end all for relationships of any dimension. (The truly patient are the only people who can be my friends now.) Something about the way I let my emotions spill out drives people away. I am coming to terms with the fact that emotional detachment is not neutrality and is probably not healthy. Despite my obsession with living in denial that I have any kind of problems, I have forced myself to become aware of this fact regardless of the terrifying prospect of not really having a solution.
Most girls view prospective relationships as something to look forward to. I on the other hand dread social pressures of any kind. I have more than a fear of rejection, I have a fear of actually being satisfied. I do not know how to sustain anything good for a long period of time without help. My friendships are not alive because of something I have done, but because of the incredible patience of the people around me.
I am not trying to say that I'm a special snowflake. I do not see myself as superior to other people. In fact I see myself as weaker, more anxious, less healthy and generally inferior. When I come off as cold, it's not because of my disdain for others but out of fear that they will soon come to have disdain for me. My constant sense of "impending doom" is based upon these feelings of inadequacy and how exhausting I find socializing.
Does this mean I am a loner or an introvert? Maybe. But people who put effort into getting to know me will probably think of me as very extroverted so I doubt that is the case. I believe I've heard the word "needy" tossed around a couple of times too, adding to my doubt that I am really introverted. Something that is necessary to work on for people like me, who find themselves constantly moping about their social anxiety is to just take time to calm down and put things into perspective.
It is helpful for me to focus on the people who are my friends rather than the people who aren't. I need to focus not necessarily on instantly befriending everyone, but being more open to friendships instead of assuming people won't like me. Granted, in my first attempt at this philosophy, it turns out my assumptions about being disliked were correct, but I tend not to give up after initial disappointment.
Everything takes work. I've been inculcated with this ideal since I could first understand words. Although working on being social can sometimes feel like it takes more effort than studying for a Biology test, and can often seem more fruitless, I need to convince myself that it is worth it. Hard work has paid off for me in other areas, and I need to convince myself that in the social aspects of my life, it will be no different.
The tricky thing with being confident about friends or just interactions with people in general is the total lack of control. You can't really control how people perceive you, unless you want them to dislike you, which is simple to control by brazenly pointing out some character flaws or physical imperfections. I am good at that sort of thing, but find it harder to get people to really be into my sweeter albeit more obnoxious side.
I think what scares me the most about other people is developing unreciprocated attachments. By chance, this has most often been the case for me. Over time, my fear has increased as each failure has dominated my every day thoughts. My fear has alternately made me more vulnerable and more closed off. If I am scared for a second that something might work out, I try my hardest to sabotage it. I view everything as temporary; I feel like if I accelerate towards the end of something, I am doing myself a favor and sparing myself emotional pain.
I can almost predict what my new therapist would say about this. I can feel her eyes alternating between wanting to fix me and feeling immense pity for me. I want to change being scared, but I know she would tell me that this takes time. I feel things with such polarity: events either bring ecstasy or distress. If I want to fix this problem, she would advise me to try moving towards a neutral step first. But what could this "neutral step" mean? How can we bring ourselves to being scared of opening up to something neutral? Also, how can we fix something that is partially up to chance. Some people I meet will not be enamored with my personality. Some people will be judgmental about the things I say, ignoring any significance that lurks beneath my harsh exterior. I cannot control everything.
To me, "neutrality" always seemed like feigning emotional detachment. The moment I let slip that I wasn't heartless has been the be and end all for relationships of any dimension. (The truly patient are the only people who can be my friends now.) Something about the way I let my emotions spill out drives people away. I am coming to terms with the fact that emotional detachment is not neutrality and is probably not healthy. Despite my obsession with living in denial that I have any kind of problems, I have forced myself to become aware of this fact regardless of the terrifying prospect of not really having a solution.
Most girls view prospective relationships as something to look forward to. I on the other hand dread social pressures of any kind. I have more than a fear of rejection, I have a fear of actually being satisfied. I do not know how to sustain anything good for a long period of time without help. My friendships are not alive because of something I have done, but because of the incredible patience of the people around me.
I am not trying to say that I'm a special snowflake. I do not see myself as superior to other people. In fact I see myself as weaker, more anxious, less healthy and generally inferior. When I come off as cold, it's not because of my disdain for others but out of fear that they will soon come to have disdain for me. My constant sense of "impending doom" is based upon these feelings of inadequacy and how exhausting I find socializing.
Does this mean I am a loner or an introvert? Maybe. But people who put effort into getting to know me will probably think of me as very extroverted so I doubt that is the case. I believe I've heard the word "needy" tossed around a couple of times too, adding to my doubt that I am really introverted. Something that is necessary to work on for people like me, who find themselves constantly moping about their social anxiety is to just take time to calm down and put things into perspective.
It is helpful for me to focus on the people who are my friends rather than the people who aren't. I need to focus not necessarily on instantly befriending everyone, but being more open to friendships instead of assuming people won't like me. Granted, in my first attempt at this philosophy, it turns out my assumptions about being disliked were correct, but I tend not to give up after initial disappointment.
Everything takes work. I've been inculcated with this ideal since I could first understand words. Although working on being social can sometimes feel like it takes more effort than studying for a Biology test, and can often seem more fruitless, I need to convince myself that it is worth it. Hard work has paid off for me in other areas, and I need to convince myself that in the social aspects of my life, it will be no different.
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