Social Anxiety and going back to church: Swimming with sharks

It's June of 2021. 

I just realized the last time I wrote was last June of 2020, still knee-deep in the Coronavirus pandemic. 

At the time, I was in fear of "real life" coming back and pushing me back to church and into the depths of life that scared me so much. Little did I know it wouldn't be until one full year later than I would receive my vaccine and finally be protected from the coronabeast.

I wish I could have known I would have another full year of "living my best life", tucked away in the safety and security of my own home, away from the threats that plagued my life pretty much daily.

But recently, the sharks have started circling around me and I feel like I'm being pushed head-first into their feeding pool. 

This past weekend (of course on a holiday weekend) we received a text from our bishop asking if we were ready to return to church because they had callings in mind for us.

It instantly got in my head and plagued the rest of my mini vacation. Can you NOT text me on a holiday please? 

My first feelings were rage, and I wailed aloud, "Please leave me alone!", as if my loud outburst would magically float across time and space to the bishop who would say, "Oh, I'm sorry, never mind."

The truth is, if I can be honest, I don't want to go back to the way my life was a year and a half ago. Where I felt pressure to say yes. Where I played the part. Where I had to pretend everything was fine and great and wonderful when it wasn't. Where I went to church every Sunday, and activities and callings and meetings with a twist in my gut, anticipating and mentally preparing myself against the unexpected; against the expectations and people who may or may not come up and talk to me or ask something of me. 

My husband and I were having a Sunday church discussion a few weeks ago and I was venting that I was really stressed about having to go back to church. When they announced they were opening back up to 2 hours of in-person church back in the building, it gave me a stomach ache. I could feel freedom slipping through my fingers and a weight tied around my neck pulling me under.

My husband didn't understand my deep distain for going back to in-person church.

I tried to explain to him that going back to church with social anxiety (or any anxiety for that matter) FEELS mentally the same as if there is a physical danger there. He responded, but it's all in your mind, there is no physical danger.

I said, "You're right, but imagine what it would feel like if you still felt like there was danger, even if there wasn't, and no amount of reason could change how you felt."

I continued, "Going back to church, for me, feels like I'm being thrown into the water with a school of hungry, circling sharks. There is no physical danger, but the fear is just as real as if there were. Now try enjoying church feeling like that."

I've said it before, I'll say it again, if I could have church at home the rest of my life I would. If I'm allowed to say what I wish, it would be to never have to have in-person church again with a congregation or to have to attend any of the meetings, socials or group activities. 

It doesn't mean I don't have or want to keep my testimony. 

It doesn't mean I don't believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ. 

It means because of my social anxiety, all the good things and good feelings about the gospel are suffocated by the anxiety of having to play the part and associate with all the people and bend to all the painful expectations. 

I know this is my social anxiety talking, but at the moment, I'd rather live a smaller life than fight the constant battle and worry that comes with pushing myself back into the water. It is exhausting. 

• I'm not ready to go back to meeting with the bishop or counselor behind a closed door. 
• I'm not ready to be putting on a happy face for all the people, when inside I'm ready to run. 
• I'm not ready to act like I'm fine when I'm not.
• I'm not ready to have to dream up an excuse for why I don't want to have dinner with someone, why I can't give a talk, why I can't accept a calling, why I don't want to have the missionaries come and visit or why I don't want to open my door when someone drops by. 
• I'm not ready for the mental fight and anguish within myself every single time I think about these things or step through those doors on Sunday! 

I told my husband I was born into the club but it didn't mean I wanted to be.

All the hard feelings are coming back and I feel slowly like I'm suffocating under the pressure of having to go back to that life. 

When people say, 'you can create and live a life you love', I have a hard time believing that because I wouldn't choose this but don't feel like I really have a choice. This is not what I love but the guilt of not doing it is worse than doing it. I don't love the role I feel I am expected to play. And it doesn't mean I don't believe the gospel teachings, it means the gospel and church life are 2 separate things for me. One is beautiful and the other is torturous.

Are you having a hard time "going back to the way things used to be?" 

My counselor once told me it was ok to look at how my life was before the pandemic, and decide what I don't want back in my life. Why does it feel like I really don't have a choice?

How are you dealing with going back to in-person church? Is it harder for you than before the pandemic? I could use some insight. 

 

My drama-filled dialogue

Wow. Sunday was a big day for me. I had to be involved in something that brought on MAJOR anxiety. I mean the kind that makes your heart beat out of your chest and you think you're going to faint when it's your turn to do your thing.

My thoughts were racing as quickly as my heart. I could feel my face getting red. As I sat waiting for my turn to go up, I weakly attempted to talk myself down from the wall with "thoughts of ocean waves rolling in"....no, that's not working..."a field of sweet-smelling flowers"...attempting slow breathing techniques...but in the end reality took over. Who am I kidding?? I'm in the middle of relief society and have to get up in front of everyone in about 3 minutes. There's not an ocean or flower big enough to calm me down! And then it was my turn.

As I stood in front of the group, fear gripped me around the throat. Usually when I'm in front of people doing my thing, the anxiety eventually reaches a peak and then starts to die down, but the whole time I felt breathy, trying to breathe normally as my throat closed up and I had to keep swallowing or I'd choke. Thoughts raced through my head, "What if I pass-out? No, that can't happen. Wait, yes it can! I've seen people do it on tv! Just breathe!" (such drama-filled inner dialogue).

But luckily I didn't pass out and made it through but oh. my. gosh. it was exhausting. I was still a bundle of nerves when I was done. Oh the inner woe! No one in that room knew doing my part nearly killed me. Like for reals.

In the church hallway, my husband asked me how it went and I replied, choking back a laugh, "It went pretty well" knowing that when we got in the car I was going to unleash the monster. And I did. I don't think I stopped talking the entire ride home, spitting out every last obnoxious detail. Kind of like I do here. ha!

He was kind of stunned and didn't really know how to respond. I mean how do you respond when someone blurts out such nonsense a mile a minute... "I thought I was literally going to pass out and my heart was pounding and I thought I was choking and I didn't know whether I could make it so I tried to think of the ocean and slow my breathing but nothing worked and then it was my turn and I felt totally freaked out but I finally made it through and lived to tell" kind of lunacy. Poor dear. He has to listen to this whenever I do something that pushes me over the edge.

And when I finally got home, not only did I want to eat everything in sight, I also wanted to go to bed and sleep for 1,000 hours. It sucked me dry people. The rest of the day was a blur.

I'm reminded again and again every time I have a panic attack / social anxiety attack how much our thinking affects us. I know it's all psychological. My mind knows it, but I haven't figured out how to connect that to my body. Hopefully one of these days I will.

Why I eat chips on Sunday

I just got home from church. Yes, I made it today. (loud cheering)

But I'm not gonna lie. I sped walked to the car (the door didn't have time to hit me on the way out) and the whole drive home all I could think about was what I got to eat when I got home. Getting there and surviving a whole 3 hours at church?! This girl gets a reward! It's so sad. They also call it e m o t i o n a l  e a t i n g. :|

But man, why is it so painful every week?! Aaahhhkkk!! I'm trying to do what's right and hope that it will get better and sometimes it does (like I mentioned after attending the temple), but some weeks are very difficult and the road ahead seems very long.

It's like a job I can't quit.
That sounds so wrong, but it's how I feel.

A word that comes to mind is torturous. Going to church really is weekly mental torture for people like me with social anxiety who don't like to share, who don't like to read aloud, who don't like to get up in front of people, who don't like to contribute to discussions, who don't like to socialize, who don't like working in groups...it's all the things we fear.

I love feeling the spirit of God fill and touch my heart. It's not the gospel that's difficult. It lifts me up and brings me such joy. I love sitting through sacrament meeting and feeling the spirit. I love having moments where I gain new insight and inspiration. In sacrament meeting there is no fear, no worry, only peace. I can soak up all the goodness of what's around me instead of wondering if I'll be called on, talked to or have to sit in a circle to share. It is the lack of fear that allows me to just be and it feels so good.

But as sacrament meeting comes to a close, the fear engages and I know I have 2 more difficult hours ahead. How I wish I could simply be a fly on the wall to feel God's spirit and love, and continue learning the beautiful things of the gospel...while remaining unseen and unnoticed.

I know other people have challenges that are probably much more difficult in other ways than I do, but this really is hard. I see my life ahead with these same feelings every day and it's hard to face. It makes me want to curl up in a ball. How I wish the Lord would take this difficulty from me. It has changed me so much. I feel like I've lost much of who I am because of it. I look back in time and almost don't recognize the bubbly, enthusiastic person I once was. Now I just try to keep to myself so no one breaks into my safe zone.

And that, my friends, is why I eat chips on Sunday. Or ice cream. Or cake. Or anything I can to reward myself for making it one more Sunday.

Now please pass the Doritos, we have home teachers coming in 15 minutes.