I am a 31-year-old wife, teacher, pug mommy, friend and Pinterest-loving crafter. I am an introvert that loves people. I can be as
silly as a 12-year-old and love making others laugh. I am a good listener and
love hearing other people’s stories.
Because we all have a story. And sometimes sharing it
with others is the scariest thing we think we’ll ever face because vulnerability
can sometimes lead to pain. Jeremiah 1:5 tells us that before God formed us in
the womb, he knew us. He knew what he was doing when he gave us our character
traits and our flaws. It is only recently that I’ve come to understand that the
imperfections within us are meant to serve a purpose. God tends to use those
with a proverbial limp, if you haven’t noticed. That being said, here is my story.
Growing up, I was thought of as the shy and quiet girl. I
clung to my mother’s leg on the first day of Kindergarten and hoped that if I
cried hard enough my parents wouldn’t make me stay. In elementary school, I
remember playing alone on the playground and drawing elaborate pictures in the
dirt with a stick. My best friend was my stuffed, pajama-clad bear named
Chuckles.
Once, in the fifth grade, I had to demonstrate a “how-to”
project in front of the class. This is my first real memory of experiencing crippling
fear in front of my peers. I went with something quick and easy: How to Draw a
Snoopy Face Out of the Number 55. I went up to the board and drew that thing
out in about five seconds flat. There was no pausing to give my classmates
instructions. I drew as quickly as I could with trembling hands as my teacher
urged me to slow down and explain each step. I don’t remember what kind of
grade I got on that presentation, but I do remember from then out having an
inescapable fear of being called up to the board in class.
Fast forward to high school, where every day was spent
making sure I didn’t wear a gray t-shirt to reveal my incessantly sweating
armpit stains. I refused to eat anything for lunch at school other than
crackers because I feared eating a big lunch would cause my stomach to make
gurgling digestive sounds in a quiet classroom. My worst fear was being called
on by my teacher to read out loud.
Then came college, where there was more of the same. Every
day was spent fighting one anxious battle after another. I remember my heart
beating fast each and every time I walked to class. I wondered: Would I get
called on to read out loud today? Would I get a tickle in my throat and have an
uncontrollable coughing spell during lecture? I told myself that if things got
to be too stressful in class, I would just get up and leave, pretending I had an
appointment. This is an escape route that wasn’t available to me in high
school, and I utilized it one day in Calculus to avoid board work.
At the end of the day, I would go back to my dorm room and
collapse on my bed, emotionally exhausted. A suite mate might knock on my door,
but I wouldn’t answer, telling her later I had fallen asleep.
When Summer came, while other kids got jobs to further their
resume and use towards experience in their field of major, I would stay holed
up in my apartment, relying on savings to pay my part of the rent and bills. A
day didn’t go by that I didn’t feel like a worthless freeloader. I couldn’t
apply for jobs because my anxiety was through the roof. I remember multiple
instances of my picking up the phone to call a potential employer then hanging
up before they answered because my heart was beating so hard, I knew I wouldn’t
be able to talk. One morning I was in bed thinking about how all my roommates
were at work and I was wasting another day away, a prisoner to fear. My heart
started beating erratically, and I experienced a full-blown panic attack that
left my heart physically hurting. I was so worried, I actually called my
parents and asked them to drive me to the hospital for heart tests. After all
the testing, I learned my heart was fine. I was told to stay away from
stimulants such as caffeine. I was also told that anxiety is most common in
college-aged women trying to figure out what to do with their lives.
No matter what age I was, a common thread coursed through my
life: the concept of embracing who I was and simply being myself was never
considered. It took all I had to face each day trying to hide my unrealistic
anxieties from those around me. But even though it was the only way of life I
knew, I never stopped to consider what might be wrong with me until after I got
married.
At 23 years old, I googled “social anxiety.” The symptoms
laid out on my computer screen sounded like someone was writing a biography
about me. I felt exposed. I felt scared that I had an actual diagnosis which I
would forever be trapped in and defined by.
According to Wikepedia:
”Social anxiety is a
discomfort or a fear when a person is in social interactions that involve a
concern about being judged or evaluated by others. It is typically
characterized by an intense fear of what others are thinking about them
(specifically fear of embarrassment, criticism, or rejection), which results in
the individual feeling insecure, not good enough for other people, and/or the
assumption that peers will automatically reject them.”
Boom. There was my life summarized in two sentences. I cried
to my husband that night and revealed to him my secret struggle that even he
had known nothing about. I worried he would look at me differently, but he
amazed me then and continues to amaze with his understanding and full
acceptance of me.
I continued to live life crippled by social anxiety for a
few more years. My breaking point came when my job required me to go into a few
different stores and pick out products to highlight. This involved me carrying
in a notebook and pen and asking an employee to help me with what I needed. I
couldn’t do it. I broke down, absolutely overtaken by fear. My husband was my
hero that day. He took my notebook and pen and went into each and every store
and got the information that I had been assigned to get.
Not long after that, I had a talk with my family doctor. My
heart beat and my voice shook as I told him about the relentless anxiety I
struggled with every day. He listened and acknowledged my struggle. He affirmed
that I had truly been living in a secret hell. It was that day that I took the
first step of treatment. And my life has been changed for the better since.
Do I still struggle with anxiety? Yes. But the difference is
that instead of not making the call, I’ll make it now, even if I don’t feel the
most confident. I put myself in new situations now and don’t hide from the
world. I have discovered my real personality when not held back by fear of
being judged. I am funny. I love people. I’m goofy and not as shy as I’ve
always considered myself to be. I love teaching children. I see the value in
complimenting a stranger and look for opportunities to be a light for Christ.
And going back to what I said in the beginning about God using those with a
limp: I am a greeter at my church. I struggle sometimes with stumbling over my
words or feeling awkward trying to talk to new people, but I’ve also seen God
use me just as I am to make others feel welcome and important.
I recently read this quote and it has stuck with me:
“Imperfections have a role to play in our lives and when we forget that, we become
unapproachable.”
Therefore, embrace your imperfections. Don’t waste them.
Figure out who God wants you to share your story with and tell it. You will be
amazed at how many people will be able to relate and how many lives you’ll be
able to touch when you take off the proverbial mask of perfection.
I am sharing my story to bring awareness to a disorder that
affects millions of adults in America. If you are secretly struggling with
social anxiety, know there are various forms of treatment and I urge you to
consult with your doctor about which might be best for you.
There IS life beyond the labels.
“I will praise thee for I am fearfully and wonderfully
made…” Psalm 139:14
>> Published in Peekaboo NWA magazine, September 2014.
http://www.peekaboonwa.com/overcoming-social-anxiety/
http://www.peekaboonwa.com/overcoming-social-anxiety/
