Social Anxiety and Social Exclusion among LDS women

Every Sunday it's like watching a flurry of butterflies, those social women who frolic across the flowered fields of church halls and classrooms, chatting with one woman, then another, then another, recounting the week's events, sharing stories and making plans, until they have graced their presence on almost every flower. Except me.

Social Anxiety stops you from going to church. It stops you from attending activities. It stops you from making friends. It stops you from socializing with the other women in the ward. It's no wonder that those with social anxiety also feel completely excluded among the other women. And it's hard.

A little while ago, I received this comment from one of my readers:

I, too, struggle with social anxiety and struggle with some of the same aspects of church that you do. Thank you for sharing your experiences and wisdom.

However, I also struggle with a side effect of SA that I do not find addressed on any of the websites or blogs. This is social exclusion in the LDS church and feeling as thought I do not fit in with the women. Knowing that the women at church are great friends and do things socially outside of church but I am not included is very painful. It adds to my feelings of rejection and compound my social anxieties. It makes church attendance very difficult. 

Just this Sunday the RS lesson was on sisterhood and unity. It was nice and cozy and safe. However, how about a real discussion about why we need a lesson on unity in the first place? How about some emotional honesty about what we are doing or not doing? Unfortunately, I left RS feeling worse. 

Do you have any thoughts or advice?

My response to her:

I, too, have felt the same feelings of social exclusion you are talking about. It is difficult every Sunday to see friends chat away, while I sit there feeling stupid. I feel like I'm always on the outside looking in. I know that if I were to attend activities or extend myself to talk to people, I also would make friends, but social anxiety makes it very difficult. In some ways it's like a double-edged sword - if people talk to me or invite me to things, it makes me uncomfortable and I will most likely turn them down, but at least it makes me feel included.  On the other hand, if people don't talk to me and kind of disregard me, I feel alone and excluded.

I understand what you're saying about your lesson on sisterhood and unity. People who are surrounded by friends, think unity in RS is fine and dandy. But what about the people who don't have friends and don't feel included? It's like the one's who need the lesson don't quite get it, and the one's who don't, just feel worse after it.

If you're in a ward where no one reaches out beyond their own bubble of friends, it can be very easy to feel excluded. I've felt differently in different wards. Some groups are much more likely to reach out to everyone, where other wards have cliques and keep to their own friends. 

If I can offer one piece of advice that has helped me, I hope it might do the same for you.  Sometimes all it takes is one person. One person to make you feel important. One person to make you feel included. One person to go to an activity with, to feel like you aren't alone. 

Is there 1 person, maybe someone new, or someone who feels left-out, that you could reach out to so you're both not alone? I have found in the past that when I have gone out of my way to talk to someone new, or someone who's sitting alone, no matter how difficult it is, that I end up feeling better. In turning it around so it's not about me, it's about them, reaching out to make sure someone else feels included, makes me feel included too.

Another suggestion that may or may not be something you're interested in doing, is taking a walk with someone. In my ward there are people who like to take walks together. I feel much more comfortable walking and talking with someone, than having a one-on-one sit down conversation with someone. It's a casual way to get to know people and nice to get some exercise in. It's not always easy to ask to be included, but if you do and go even once, you might find that it's a great fit for you.

Just know, dear friend, that I am on your side. I struggle just like you do. I know how it feels. I know how difficult it is. I'm pushing my way through all of this too. I'd love to keep up on how you're doing and hope that something I've said has helped you. 

Have you ever felt as this reader feels?
As I have also felt 99.9% of all Sundays?

As I said in my response, some wards are much better at making people feel included than other wards. The bottom line, is that it is much more painful to be excluded, than to choose not to be included. 

I'm very sorry for those of you who attend wards that are cliquish, exclude, and/or stick to their own circles. I've been in such wards and it can be very hurtful, especially when going to church itself is already difficult.

The ward I attend is diverse and pretty friendly, as wards go. There are many people who try to make others feel included. I have been invited to activities. I have been invited to dinner. I have been invited to attend baby showers, and other events. But I have always declined.

I guess the way I deal with the issue of exclusion (or don't deal with it) is to block it out. I put up a high, sturdy wall that not even the strongest can climb. I block out that social connection so I won't care. I won't care that everyone has friends in the ward but me, that they all get together during the week, that they share strong friendships, that they have dinner groups together and date nights as couples and reading groups and share experiences and funny stories with each other.

If I start to care, it would be painful to know how separated I really am from all of them. But if I take that wall down to be included, it is dangerous territory for me. It means I'll have to start talking and sharing and attending...and in the end I know myself. I'll start worrying, avoiding, cancelling and begin to build my wall back up again as they look at me with confusion.

So I put up my wall and try to distract myself, and hide in the bathroom while the butterflies frolic because I seem to be a better observer than a participant.

From the outside looking in, it's not that I long to be a butterfly, I long to feel as the butterflies feel. To feel as free and fun and joyful as they look, without a care in the world as they flutter along, chatting, planning, and giggling with the other butterflies.

Maybe one day I'll join them, but for now, I'm just a flower.