It's not you it's me: the message our social anxiety sends to others

Thank you again to those of you who have taken a moment to express how this blog has helped you! It strengthens me to know that sharing my thoughts and experiences can help other people who struggle as I do.

This past Sunday at church I had a slam bam moment when I came face to face with my visiting teachers. As you may or may not know, visiting teachers are a HUGE challenge for me. You can read accounts of my nightmarish experiences in a few of my previous posts:

What caused my social anxiety
Two Steps Forward, One Step Back
Pushing Forward
Old Habits are Hard to Break

It's still SO awkward for me not to be a visiting teacher because of my anxiety, being in a community of people where EVERYONE ELSE IS. Man, thinking back to my last horrific visit even for a second makes me shudder with humiliation! Aaakk!

But the other awkward side is being visit taught. I asked not to have visiting teachers, but suddenly one day I was on someone's route. And to make an awkward mess even messier, I asked for emails instead of meeting with them. How weird am I? I can't even meet with two ladies in my home? It's mortifying, but less horrifying than meeting with them. I'll take the lesser of two evils I guess.

Visiting teaching in our church is like the holy grail of service. I've lost track of how many times I've heard, "I love visiting teaching! It has blessed my life in so many ways! I have made my best friends through visiting teaching!"

Back in my earlier days, I did make a good friend who had been assigned to be my visiting teacher. It was a great experience. Back at a time when sitting one-on-one with someone didn't wrap itself around my neck and choke me.

So there I stood. Face to face. Eye to eye. With the two sisters who were assigned to be my visiting teachers. They are some of the nicest ladies. They email me every month to check in and talk to me when I see them. And in a normal world, talking together like friends should be fun. It shouldn't be painful.

I choked through the first parts of our conversation and then somehow managed to put a smile on my face and tried to act normal. I tried to envision I was talking to my sister. I didn't need to feel nervous if it was my sister. And surprisingly, it helped just enough to release the choke-hold. But as each second ticked by, I kept mentally checking how I was doing and how much longer I could keep it together. It's hard to enjoy a conversation when all that's running through your mind is, Am I going to freak out? No, you're fine. Am I acting normal? How much longer are they going to keep talking to me??

As our conversation was finally coming to a close (yes!), one of the ladies turned to me and said, "You know, you can always call me. Or come over. Or just hang out with me." And I was reminded again about one of the other hardest parts about my social anxiety. The way it affects other people.

I don't like to hurt other people's feelings and I can't deny the pain I see in her eyes when she tries to reach out to me, but is rejected time and time again. She has asked me to do things with her for years and has expressed her desire to be my friend, but I never accept her invitations. Ever. It appears I don't like her or that I think I'm too good for her, or that I'm totally disinterested. If only she knew the reason behind my behavior. "It's not you, it's me!"

If she only knew the truth. If she only knew that I wish I felt comfortable enough to spend time with her and be her friend. If she only knew that my constant rejections had NOTHING at all to do with her and EVERYTHING to do with me.

I wonder how many other people my mixed messages have hurt? People reach out and invite us to dinner and I turn them down. People invite me to do things and I find an excuse. I stay away from the nicest people at church because I know they'll talk to me and want to know how I am, or even worse - ask me to do something with them. I naturally pull away from people who in my "former non-anxious life", I would have enjoyed spending time with.

It's an onion, this social anxiety. So many layers.