“So… how long are you planning to leave those potatoes in your lap?” he asked, with a mixture of amusement and concern in his eyes.
“Oh, I don’t know. A few more minutes, maybe?” I heard myself shoot back with a nervous laugh.
Honestly, I was surprised anything coherent came out of my mouth at that moment. How does a girl explain to her date that her mashed potatoes had not made it to her mouth because her nervous and shaky hands had caused them to slide off the fork and plop with a warm thud into her lap?
And furthermore, that rather than laugh it off and clean up the potatoes, as any reasonable person would do, she had panicked and chosen to continue eating as if it hadn’t happened.
Nevertheless, the date continued. We took a walk in the park with giant slushies in hand. I was finally starting to loosen up a bit and casually plopped down at a picnic table, which then immediately flipped up backward and knocked both of our slushies into the dirt.
In my defense, it was my very first time dating and I was just then realizing that the social anxiety I’d suffered through in middle school was re-emerging on the dating scene. And it turned out that it was quite a force to be reckoned with.
I think I must have decided at that point that if I could adopt an identity to hide behind, then my insecurities would disappear. I pretended to be a star basketball player, a surfer, a punk-rock-mosh-pitter, an artist, a hippie, a hipster, a partridge in a pear tree, and probably many other things I’ve blocked out.
I have to admit, some of that was fun. But my true identity would always emerge in some inconvenient way. For example, after saying I was a starter on the varsity basketball team in high school, the guy I was seeing decided that he wanted to play basketball, of all things. The last time I had actually played basketball was in middle school wherein I tried to run the ball down the court like a football.
Suffice it to say, it didn’t end well.
When I got tired of that whole shtick, I finally realized that if my fear was not allowed on the date, neither was I. I was never truly present throughout any of those relationships. I had become something of a ghost, a shell of my true self, and if a relationship was going to last like that, it couldn’t possibly be a healthy one.
As Elizabeth Gilbert puts it in her book Big Magic, “Fear has to go on the journey with you or you’ll never go.”
I was in my early 30s when I finally became determined to stop pushing fear out of the process in finding my life partner. I decided to invite the clingy thing along for the ride, so long as he sat quietly in the back seat and didn’t make any complaints about my driving.
And guess what? I survived. And I’m very happy to report that no one was seriously injured in the process. Here’s what I learned along the way—the things I wish I would have known from the beginning:
Tip #1:
You have to learn to be okay with people not being okay with your anxiety disorder.
I know. That’s probably the hardest thing to do as a person with Social Anxiety Disorder. It feels impossible. But I promise you, the more you allow yourself to be honest and bring your fear long with you, the less afraid you’ll be of rejection. You’ll realize it’s actually much less stressful than trying to hide your fear, which we all know is both silly and impossible. Relationships can only truly begin when we actually show up. For better or worse.
Tip #2
Be prepared for your fear to get worse before it gets better. Even if your partner accepts it fully.
Learned coping mechanisms won’t go out easily, and that’s exactly what your fear is—a coping mechanism. Your fear and anxiety are trying to keep you safe, and they think they have your best interests at heart. So when you go against the strict rules they’ve set for you, they may throw a bit of a tantrum—a pity party, if you will. Keep going anyway. This just means fear is on its way toward extinction and it doesn’t like that very much. Keep showing up afraid. Keep being honest, no matter how unflattering it can be. Keep accepting yourself, no matter how sweaty, how shaky, or how neurotic you may become. There is more to you than your fear, but you won’t fully believe that until you have the chance to live it.
Tip #3
Wait for the person who accepts you fully—fear and all.
There are plenty of people who might be willing to tolerate our flaws, but simply tolerating them isn’t enough. This still requires us to keep our issues down to a dull roar so as not to overwhelm your partner to the point of them leaving. In fact, it’s far better to be outright rejected than to stay with a person who mostly accepts you. This may give you just enough happiness to stay and just enough shame to continue hiding, and just enough hurt to keep you from healing. Wait for the person who not only accepts you but empathizes with your weakness—the person who can tell you what their weaknesses are, too. The person who loves you even more because you are so beautifully human and you allow them the opportunity to be fully human alongside you.
This is where shame and fear finally lose power over us: when we are willing to be vulnerable. The great Shame Researcher, Brene Brown famously wrote, “If we can share our story with someone who responds with empathy and understanding, shame can’t survive.”
The irony is that when shame stops all of it’s destroying of relationships, it actually can become the force that unites us.
Healthy relationships are our greatest weapon against shame, and as we take down one area of shame after another, we discover greater friendships and bonds with those who walk alongside us.
If social anxiety is standing between you and the relationship(s) you deeply desire, maybe it’s time to stop rejecting this piece of your story and begin bringing it along with you. The person or people you are looking to build relationships with will not only accept this, but will see value in your vulnerability, courage in your honesty, and an opportunity for deep connection in your humanness.
We all have things we feel helpless to change, but maybe these are the very things that can bring us together… and maybe, in our togetherness, they can finally change.