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. 

 

No wonder I hate being social

Wow. What a week this has been!

I had a work training that I had been dreading for months. I knew it was coming and I knew I couldn't get out of it like I normally would, without the threat of losing my job.

I knew it had the potential of being hideously scary but I also knew I could be talking myself up about something that never would be. My co-workers would also be attending, and I feel comfortable with them, so I had to block out any thoughts of how awful it could be and just imagine it being fine.

It has been a while since I've made myself go to something that made me uncomfortable, besides every Sunday at church *wink!, so I blazed forward thinking maybe this time it won't be that bad.

From this week's experience, I learned 4 things:
1. Whoever invented get-to-know-you games needs to be slapped really hard.
2. Whoever thinks adults find it fun to play get-to-know-you-games, needs to be slapped really hard.
3. You can get through something if necessary, even if you think you're close to death.
4. Lets be real - if you can get out of it without negative consequences, GET OUT OF IT!

I'll give you one guess as to how the training went.
No, worse than that. ha!

The room was filled with about 60 people, seated in rows. Thank my lucky stars it wasn't a large circle, or they may have needed to start CPR.

My sensors were up, sizing the place up. It seemed relatively safe. It looked like we could sit in our seats and listen to the lecture. I even socialized with a few people to try and ease in to my surroundings. Hey, I'd actually made it to the training! Call me confident!

Flash forward to the moment it all went south.

The presenters thought it would be fun for us, as adult professionals, to play get-to-know-you-games. (See #2 above)
Need I say more?

Oh but why stop at just one? Or two? Or three? How about an hour of torturous get-to-know-you-games that involved charade-like behavior, hand-to-hand-contact, sharing feelings with strangers, all the while trying to act normal when you're throat is closing up, your face is turning red, and your mind is racing about how you know you can't get out of there but wonder how you'll survive as you feel like you're going to pass out and die?

Are. You. Kidding. Me?!
My eyes get wide and I get all tied up inside just thinking about it.
SLAP THEM!! HARD!!!

I only went to the bathroom once, you'll be proud to know, but it was timed just right.
"Now I'd like you to find a group of 5..."
Um, no. Bathroom time!

I would have stayed in my stall forever if I could, but then maybe someone would have thought I had diarrhea or something. Eeew. Yes, I said it.

So the rest of the awkwardly, uncomfortable, torturous time? I held my water bottle, squeezed the round lid til I made it oval, and ate tic tacs like it was my job. A minty distraction, of sorts. I had to be on my guard. I had no idea when they were going to pull another fast one on me. Another game? Another share-fest? Calling me out of the audience? I couldn't chance it. I was going to eat 100 tic tacs if that's what it took to last the rest of the meeting.

And I survived.
A little worse for wear, but I made it. I'll keep my job. I can check it off my list for at least 6 months.

I shrieked in the car on the way home, laughing and screaming about the ridiculousness of it all. It took me a few hours to come down from the ledge and process the psychotic mess I had just been through. Holy crap. That did not just happen.

So in summary, I cry out to my dear old enemy Social Situations:

"It's been a while, but I can't say it was good to see you again. I was reminded why I hate you. Why I prefer to stay away. Why I find any and every excuse not to see you. Why I feel so much safer staying at home. Sometimes I find the will to get through, only because I know I need to, or have to, but not because I enjoy it.

Other times you're at your worst, leaving me less than I was when I came. And although I eventually recover, the scars are lasting reminders. I won't be fooled. You can disguise yourself any way you'd like to, but I know you're still the same.

I will still avoid you as much as possible, but I know at some point I'll have to see you again, face-to-face. So until the a day I don't have to fear you anymore, I'll arm myself with water and tic tacs. Peace out.

Survived another Sunday with social anxiety

As you can see, I lived to tell about today's church, home teaching and tithing settlement activities.
Just thought you should know.

Church was fine. I'm always hoping no one will talk to me. Saying hi is fine, a word or two is fine, but please don't stop me in the hall for a chat. Luckily, Primary saves me from being too available for that sort of thing. To be perfectly honest, I feel like I'm hiding in Primary. It's a safe haven. Since it's all about the kids, teachers are never asked to contribute. They're hardly ever called on or put on the spot. And I'm more than fine with that. I'll sign on for a lifetime Primary calling, thank you very much.

Anyway, I tried to push thoughts of home teachers and tithing settlement out of my mind all day. But of course once we got home it was all about looking at the clock to see how many minutes until they get here...tick, tock, tick, tock...and figuring out anxiety reducing seating arrangements and optimal anxiety reducing lighting, etc., etc. (We socially anxious are very high maintenance you know) haha! Luckily my husband is very understanding and lets me do whatever ritual I need to do. And although I never expressed the anxious thoughts and dread I had been feeling over the home teachers coming over or the tithing settlement meeting, he was lucky I was there at all, right?!

Moving on. The home teachers ended up being late. Ha! Isn't that always the way? As I watched the clock and mentally bit my nails, I wanted to scream,"This is why I hate home teachers!" but I didn't. I just smiled and said maybe we'd been forgotten. Which was actually my backwards wish that I instantly took back because I knew it would mean holding on to the dread another week. No thanks. But they ended up coming late.

And shocker of a lifetime, due to their schedules, they could only stay about 15 minutes. I'll take that any day. I did experience a few moments of anxiety. They asked us questions and suddenly I felt heat shoot across my face. I wondered if they could tell. I thought, "oh, no, here I go again." Somehow I spoke through it. Maybe it was the false sense of security from the "optimal anxiety reduced lighting" ha, ha. It hit me a couple times over a 15 minute period but I had to push through it, even though as I spoke I wondered if they could see the anxiety all over my face.

I survived. Next came tithing settlement.

Luckily, there was no one else waiting in the foyer when we arrived. That's another fear of mine (what does that make it? #3,683?) that we'll be trapped into socializing as we wait for our appointment with the Bishop. To my relief, we went right in. And the Bishop, as always, was very kind and really cares about the members of our ward. I kept my answers short and positive. Kind of like when you say what they want to hear, but mean it? Luckily he didn't bring anything up and we didn't offer. I'm guessing he has heard from the RS pres that I'm having a rough time, of sorts, and may know of our situation with not being able to have kids, but I wasn't going to bring it up and I was very thankful he was sensitive enough not to bring it up either.

So for now, home teaching is done for another month.
Tithing settlement is done for another year.
Church is over for another week.
But who am I kidding, as soon as I take a deep breath, it's time to brace myself to do it all over again.

Aha moment

I finally feel like a made a tiny break-through with my social anxiety as I've practiced my cognitive behavioral therapy from Dr. Richards (from the Social Anxiety Institute).

I'm still on session 1 to solidify the foundation. Since I hadn't been consistently practicing 7 days/week, I decided to stay a little longer on session 1 before going on to session 2. However, I did begin reading a handout from session 2 to use as my "slow talk" reading material. And it was while reading that handout that I had a life changing moment.

As I was reading about automatic negative thinking there were a few statements that stood out to me that suddenly put things into perspective. It went something like this: (this is not the exact wording) Negative automatic thinking always lies. It never tells the truth. It can fool you into thinking you're worthless. It can take away your self-esteem. It can make you feel hopeless and that you will never get better...but it can have power over you only if you let it."

My aha moment was simple. When those of us who suffer from social anxiety feel discouraged thinking all is lost, that we're worthless, that we're no good and not worthy of happiness, that everyone is judging us, that we should fear every situation, that we can't ever get better, who do those feelings and power come from? It all became clear to me. Satan is the father of all lies. If I give in to all this negative thinking, in a sense I'm giving into him. I am letting him lead me down a path of loneliness, sadness and defeat. If I let him hault my progression to accomplish amazing things, then I have let him win and I have not lived the life I was meant to live and I will not be able to accomplished the things I need to do. But if I stand up and say, "I am standing up to you and taking my control back. I won't let you have this hold on me any longer.", then I can win.

When I repeat the words of the therapy, I realize I'm really taking Satan's grasp off of me. I'm taking back my power. I'm not letting him influence the way I think about myself or the way I interpret the world or other people's opinions of me. I am a disciple of God and of Jesus Christ. I am not a slave to the devil. I will not let him have power over me any longer.

This is profound for me. I found a connection in this therapy to the real spirit inside of me and to the gospel of Jesus Christ of which I'm a part and I can feel my heart and mind start to heal. I know I still have a lot of work to do, but this really had an impact on me that is very healing. I am so grateful I found this therapy. That it's something I can do at home. That it's something I have made myself continue to practice so I can get better. I can already feel that a piece of me has healed and it will continue to spread until all of me is whole again.