Lucy Glendinning - ‘Featherchild’

"Social anxiety is often triggered by the distance between our inner worlds and the world everyone else is in. People who’ve sought safety and peace by retreating into themselves can unknowingly develop external affects that alienate others. They may look bored or far away. They may fail to make eye contact, or speak in vague circles. Most of the time they’d prefer to go unnoticed. Ironically, the resulting furtiveness can make them even more conspicuous. The ways we indicate being present to others is often through gestures that aren’t second nature if you don’t feel confident, or they appear inelegant when attempted by someone unpracticed in them. Confidence comes out of a feeling of belonging. I wonder how often, if ever, you’ve felt a sense of belonging. When the only place we experience welcome or care is our own minds it can be difficult to nurture the ability to feel at home anywhere else. 

The fear of being noticed, of somehow being caught and kicked out—punished for who you are the same way you might’ve been earlier in life informs what we commonly call social anxiety. It can be the expectation of rejection or the very real wariness of how other people can cause harm. The stress of failing the tests of casual conversation, or being on edge around people you should be relaxed with—like your partner or friends—may be rooted in the idea you could be found to be lacking and subsequently rejected. Anxiety over whose, and how much, attention you’re drawing as the only person like you in your workplace or school, or as a woman walking home alone at night, are also types of social anxiety—albeit different than the kind you’ve asked me about. All are connected to how available to us we feel the rights that come from belonging are.

It’s no wonder that the people who are often anxious or awkward are also perceptively different in other ways; marked by race, gender presentation, ability, family background, a personality that wasn’t popular, tastes that weren’t shared, experiences that aren’t visible to others but were so formative to them they feel marked—truly any number of factors. And those with the most confidence are those who’ve rarely had to question their place, who can take for granted their welcome. These aren’t hard and fast rules, but generally speaking you’ll notice that pattern to be true. 

Some of the confidence you need can be accessed by identifying where and when you learned you didn’t totally belong. Find that moment (or moments) and reject what it taught you. We all belong, some of us may have to insist on that ourselves. But I promise you there are people who’ll agree. 

The awkwardness you describe also sounds like the strain of someone waiting on a permission to be that hasn’t yet been offered. A lot of us are raised in environments that demand we suppress ourselves and exist in increments with permission. All of us were born children in a world of adults, raised not with our autonomy affirmed but with our inherent smallness told to be smaller—more receptive to authority. It creates a society populated by people who don’t know how to be themselves once they have the agency to be. Some reach adulthood with a streak of cruelty in rebellion of that initial imposition. And then there are those who reach adulthood with a practiced timidity, just as wounded, but still waiting on permission. We may not see it that way as adults, but if you’re living as if people’s acceptance of you is conditional—upon how you talk, what clothes you wear, who you associate with, what struggles you face or don’t face—then you’re living in fear of your permission to exist as yourself being revoked. Of course it’s stressful, if not ourselves, who can we be? 

To feel known and appreciated is a fundamental human need. Rather than risk the shame of rejection, people try to grow used to their own loneliness. There is only one way to be lonely. There are many ways to be known. And that’s what requires our attention and practice—not our capacity for becoming used to a loneliness we assume we can’t change—but our ability to make ourselves known."

"Patterns of how people respond to us can sometimes have nothing to do with us and everything to do with their bias or insecurities. Or those patterns can have everything to do with us and our behavior. Isn’t that frustrating? But we have more control than we realize. Any given interaction is the product of a mutual dynamic. You’re in charge of what you contribute to it.

My recommendation to you is not to analyze yourself more than you already must be. Instead, I suggest you survey how others around you are experiencing a situation. I’ve found making sure others feel accepted and welcome not only allows me to remain present rather than aloof, it encourages everyone (myself included) to relax too.

Is someone being left out of the conversation? Does someone else require the subject to be changed? Who looks nervous and could use a smile and show of interest? Treat others with a curiosity and openness that allows, and even welcomes, whatever quirks or awkwardness they may possess. People may not know how to respond to everything about you, but they know the safety of sincere warmth when they feel it. Offering it to others brings it to every space you’re in. 

You know how rare such treatment is. It can change the entire temperature of a space. When you don’t know how to respond more fully to people’s questions, ask them some of your own. You know what a lot of people like more than listening to someone talk? Talking. Especially about themselves. It may sound counterintuitive to ask someone who feels socially awkward to play host, but this will give you a guidance system and specific tasks that will pull you out of yourself. It also deflects the pressure you may feel when you sense others are focused on you. 

That stiffness you mention will dissolve once you bridge the gap between your inner experience and external reality. Show up as a good listener. Show up period. Ground yourself by focusing on the details of the space you’re in. Don’t wonder if the way you’re holding your body looks awkward to others. Describe the space to yourself. What colors dominate, can you smell people’s perfumes? Food? How does the ground feel to walk on? If you were to describe the occasion to someone what would you say? This will force you to be more present in a way that’ll take care of 90% of the issue here, it will distract your body from the assumptions causing it to tense up by connecting you more deeply to how little there is to be tense about. 

I want you to feel empowered to navigate social interactions. I want you to increase your ability to make a good impression and reduce anxiety over how you’re coming across. I also want you to know that you don’t have to impress anyone. But if you’d like to, paying attention will. Do that and you’ll find yourself feeling ease through creating it, and be relieved of the impossible task of performing it."

Ayesha Siddiqi, Advice: "I've been told I'm awkward. How can I relax around people?"

Lisa Seebach

a bottom-tier autistic experience is being told throughout your entire childhood that you are just an overthinker when it comes to social situations and later finding out that your friends did, in fact, hate being around you and tried to communicate that through weird little hints

when i verbalized suspecting that my so-called friends didn't like me, i was always met with "did they say they didn't like you? okay then there you go. they wouldn't be your friend if they didn't like you" and it turns out those so-called friends did in fact not like me

— Claude Cahun, from Aveux non avenus (Disavowals), tr. Susan de Muth (via women-loving-art)