---
title: "Operation: Social Anxiety Edition"
date: 2017-02-02T12:00:00-07:00
url: https://blog.lmorchard.com/2017/02/02/operation-anxiety/
author: Les Orchard
tags: [anxiety, social, mental, health]
---
# Operation: Social Anxiety Edition
**TL;DR**: Dealing with social anxiety feels like that old game Operation. BZZT!
One of the things I made a resolution to work on this year is my social
anxiety. That's a hard thing, as it's got a lot of inertia
behind it and I need a lot of self-convincing to change it.
## Life's pretty, pretty good
Overall, life's pretty good. I'm productive and successful. I work from home.
I shop from home. My main hobbies—writing, reading, tinkering, gaming—they're
all things I usually do at home. I even socialize from home!
Thanks to the internet, I'm an elusive hermit who can go days without changing
out of pajamas or even walking outside. I could be living on a space station,
except the network latency is better here on the ground.
The only person I see every day is my lovely wife. By some miracle I've
yet to fully understand, she's one of the few people in the world who does not
fill me with terror. At least, not unless I've done something that warrants
it.
Being with her is almost like being alone, but she helps keep me from
going completely feral. She reminds me that other people exist and need to be
considered.
She's also a lot of fun to be around and my life would not be
possible without her.
## Relatively functional adult
That said, I do manage to strike out on *some* expeditions. Grocery shopping,
though a challenge, is a thing I've been known to do. We order take-out and I
often pick it up. Haircuts and doctor visits are harder.
So I guess I'm a relatively functional adult. I've read that it's
usually only worth addressing a condition if it affects your ability to live
and achieve goals. I do a lot of that. I'm doing pretty well—so why change it?
But, I often forget that this hermitage is bounded by anxiety, because I've so
successfully built my adult life within that delimited space. There *are*
times when I would like to interact with live people. That's usually from a
perspective of great conceptual distance, like when I'm [writing in my
journal][].
I think of myself as the kind of person who *should* participate in events
like [Penguicon][]. I imagine I'm the kind of person who *should* be an active
community member at a maker space like [i3Detroit][]. You *should* see me
often at Detroit-area gaming & tech meetups. I *should* have many nerdy
friends with whom I meet often and have great times.
In reality, I am an elusive hermit of whom sightings are rare. When you
*do* see me, it's likely that I'm pushing down some serious terror. I may act
awkward & spazzy. I may look shifty and have my eyes on the exits.
## On being gelatinous
Here's a thing that happens a lot: Say there's an event I'd like to attend—one
of the fortnightly [i3Detroit][] [member meetings][], for example. When the
day comes, I start getting nervous when I get out of bed. By afternoon, I'm
feeling worn down by the day. I start telling myself I should just
skip it. And this is also how I end up just kind of disappearing from things:
If I skip enough times, it starts to feel like that's not a thing I do
anymore—and going back is awkward.
[member meetings]: https://www.i3detroit.org/wiki/Main_Page
If I'm lucky, I can summon up this kind of Super Mario Star Power
state where I can be "**on**" and pass for human temporarily—before collapsing
into a gelatinous blob once I'm alone again. Huge success! I did the thing and
it wasn't so bad!
If I'm not so lucky, I manage to do the thing but I'm a wreck about it. Once,
I had to spend ten minutes with my head down on the steering wheel in a
parking lot trying to pull myself together before an event. I fought down the
urge to sob from frustration. I dragged myself in by sheer willpower, but I
wanted to retreat at each stage: putting on shoes; getting my bag; turning the
key in the car; driving to the venue; leaving the car; walking in the door.
## This strange year
Addressing this problem has taken on new importance this year: I feel compelled
to do strange & new things—like make daily phone calls to my
representatives in government and politely inform them of my preferences.
Everywhere, I read things like "[in 90 seconds... be done with
it](https://dailyaction.org/)" or "[spend 5 minutes, make 5
calls](https://5calls.org/)" and I laugh & laugh. It turns a bit maniacal,
this laughing.
It takes me **hours** to make calls: That includes build up &
procrastination beforehand, as well as the subsequent release of nervous
energy afterward. Or, of course, there's the extended self-flagellation if I
don't manage to dial the phone. Doesn't matter that I'm not leaving the
house—phone calls are just as bad as anything else!
## It takes a steady hand!
It feels like that old battery-powered game Operation. It goes like
so: You have metal tweezers. You need to extract plastic bones from
metal-rimmed recesses in the game board. If your tweezers contact the sides, a
harsh buzzer blares and you lose.
Extracting a positive outcome from my head is like that: If I can thread
myself through the anxious thoughts and not touch any of them, I win. I can do
the thing easily. But, if I touch any of those thoughts with attention, they
all pile in on me and I lose. I still might be able to do the thing, but only
with an exhausting effort of will. And then, there's little energy left to use
during the event itself.
This forms a cycle: The next time I consider doing a thing, I remember the
gamble. Can I turn on the Star Man Power? Or will this be an uphill climb with
a parking log sobbing session at the peak? It's not always predicable. The
same regular event can summon up either outcome. I've given talks before large
groups and felt good before & after. I've gone to a friend's house for a
small party and felt like sprinting away.
## The problem with this problem
And here's the meta-problem: Knowing all of the above doesn't seem to help. So
silly at a rational distance, yet it always catches me by surprise in the
moment of truth. Still, I often wonder—is this real? Am I being melodramatic?
Is this just some kind of habitual affectation in which I've decided to
wallow? Can't I just suck it up and power through like everyone else
apparently does? Should I even be writing this precious little blog post?
Why *am* I writing this blog post, anyway? My inner critics accuse me of seeking
attention, but that doesn't quite seem like me. If anything, I want these
thoughts out of my head for the sake of catharsis. I wouldn't mind connecting
with other folks who are going through this too. Additionally, I suppose it
could serve as an explanation to folks who might be confused by why I'm such
an elusive hermit.
## So, uh, what now?
I don't really know what to do from here. I turned 41 last year and I've
been dealing with this issue for most of those decades. I'm under no delusion
that I'll find some magic self-help cheat code to turn it around.
I guess I'm just going to keep plugging away at it, trying to alter my habits
and trying to do the things. Maybe having written this and admitting the
problem will help? Maybe this makes my efforts this year more real?
Who knows? But, feel free to chime in with comments!
[i3Detroit]: https://www.i3detroit.org/
[Penguicon]: https://2017.penguicon.org/
[writing in my journal]: https://blog.lmorchard.com/2017/01/31/pages-and-pens/
The only person I see every day is my lovely wife. By some miracle I've
yet to fully understand, she's one of the few people in the world who does not
fill me with terror. At least, not unless I've done something that warrants
it.
Being with her is almost like being alone, but she helps keep me from
going completely feral. She reminds me that other people exist and need to be
considered.
She's also a lot of fun to be around and my life would not be
possible without her.
If I'm lucky, I can summon up this kind of Super Mario Star Power
state where I can be "**on**" and pass for human temporarily—before collapsing
into a gelatinous blob once I'm alone again. Huge success! I did the thing and
it wasn't so bad!
If I'm not so lucky, I manage to do the thing but I'm a wreck about it. Once,
I had to spend ten minutes with my head down on the steering wheel in a
parking lot trying to pull myself together before an event. I fought down the
urge to sob from frustration. I dragged myself in by sheer willpower, but I
wanted to retreat at each stage: putting on shoes; getting my bag; turning the
key in the car; driving to the venue; leaving the car; walking in the door.
## This strange year
Addressing this problem has taken on new importance this year: I feel compelled
to do strange & new things—like make daily phone calls to my
representatives in government and politely inform them of my preferences.
Everywhere, I read things like "[in 90 seconds... be done with
it](https://dailyaction.org/)" or "[spend 5 minutes, make 5
calls](https://5calls.org/)" and I laugh & laugh. It turns a bit maniacal,
this laughing.
It takes me **hours** to make calls: That includes build up &
procrastination beforehand, as well as the subsequent release of nervous
energy afterward. Or, of course, there's the extended self-flagellation if I
don't manage to dial the phone. Doesn't matter that I'm not leaving the
house—phone calls are just as bad as anything else!
## It takes a steady hand!
It feels like that old battery-powered game Operation. It goes like
so: You have metal tweezers. You need to extract plastic bones from
metal-rimmed recesses in the game board. If your tweezers contact the sides, a
harsh buzzer blares and you lose.
Extracting a positive outcome from my head is like that: If I can thread
myself through the anxious thoughts and not touch any of them, I win. I can do
the thing easily. But, if I touch any of those thoughts with attention, they
all pile in on me and I lose. I still might be able to do the thing, but only
with an exhausting effort of will. And then, there's little energy left to use
during the event itself.
This forms a cycle: The next time I consider doing a thing, I remember the
gamble. Can I turn on the Star Man Power? Or will this be an uphill climb with
a parking log sobbing session at the peak? It's not always predicable. The
same regular event can summon up either outcome. I've given talks before large
groups and felt good before & after. I've gone to a friend's house for a
small party and felt like sprinting away.
## The problem with this problem
And here's the meta-problem: Knowing all of the above doesn't seem to help. So
silly at a rational distance, yet it always catches me by surprise in the
moment of truth. Still, I often wonder—is this real? Am I being melodramatic?
Is this just some kind of habitual affectation in which I've decided to
wallow? Can't I just suck it up and power through like everyone else
apparently does? Should I even be writing this precious little blog post?
Why *am* I writing this blog post, anyway? My inner critics accuse me of seeking
attention, but that doesn't quite seem like me. If anything, I want these
thoughts out of my head for the sake of catharsis. I wouldn't mind connecting
with other folks who are going through this too. Additionally, I suppose it
could serve as an explanation to folks who might be confused by why I'm such
an elusive hermit.
## So, uh, what now?
I don't really know what to do from here. I turned 41 last year and I've
been dealing with this issue for most of those decades. I'm under no delusion
that I'll find some magic self-help cheat code to turn it around.
I guess I'm just going to keep plugging away at it, trying to alter my habits
and trying to do the things. Maybe having written this and admitting the
problem will help? Maybe this makes my efforts this year more real?
Who knows? But, feel free to chime in with comments!
[i3Detroit]: https://www.i3detroit.org/
[Penguicon]: https://2017.penguicon.org/
[writing in my journal]: https://blog.lmorchard.com/2017/01/31/pages-and-pens/