BlueTraneSenior Contributor
Social Anxiety
When I’m in public, the crowd's noise hits me like a tidal wave, disorienting me and making it impossible to think straight. I try to centre myself, but it’s a race against time, a constant battle to block out the whispers—real or imagined—the conspiracies my mind weaves against me. I do my best not to get overwhelmed, to hold myself together, because the alternative is losing control, and no matter how many times my therapist tells me that wouldn’t be the end of the world, it sure as hell feels like it would be. She tells me not to let paranoia keep me from living, from going outside, from existing beyond the walls of my home. Our work together primarily challenges these fears, forcing me to confront them. I want to be out in the world on my terms. I want to be able to function like others do. I know people with my condition who manage it—if they melt down, they deal with it, they face whatever reactions come their way. But my self-consciousness, my hyper-awareness of everything, everyone, keeps me locked inside my head, avoiding social situations so I never have to deal with the fallout.
