I think I was a relatively outgoing kid until changing schools in the fifth grade. (The elementary school I was in stopped having classes above the 4th, so students were sent to other schools. Most people from my school went to one, I went to the other.) I could be wrong, but I remember having the kind of confidence that came with making up the cool playground games. That said, if changing schools was enough to change my attitude so severely, maybe I wasn't outgoing. 

Regardless, I haven't been outgoing since then, if ever. I wasn't diagnosed or treated for anxiety until graduate school, but looking back I definitely could have used help sooner. 

• My first semester of college I was so scared of strangers that I skipped many meals so as not to eat in the dining hall
• I traveled abroad as a junior and spent the first month essentially hiding in my room and once I was dragged out by other Americans, to clubs and pups, I would go to the bar and basically ask for whatever would get me tipsy fastest but not taste gross, thereby enabling me to talk to people 
• In my MLitt/MFA program, the first time I had to be on stage, without even an audience other than the class I was in, I was so scared that my legs started shaking-- knees knocking-- I didn't know that was an actual thing
• The first time I had to give a presentation at an academic conference, I ended up lightheaded, nauseated, and in tears
• I cried for about an hour before my PhD dissertation defense purely out of fear
• I LOVED playing ice hockey, but I would panic before every practice and every game and consider not going because I was uncomfortable around the other players

Intellectually, I know that if I meet a group of people, the worst thing that will happen is I won't make friends. Maybe I really will say something entirely stupid or not be able to think of anything to say, but even if that's the case, so what? Where's the long-lasting damage? But knowing it intellectually and overcoming it emotionally are two different things. 

This is a big part of why quarantine/the pandemic hasn't really affected me a great deal. Between where I live (rural Appalachia), my introverted nature, and my anxiety (for all that it's somewhat treated), staying home all the time has been super easy. In fact, I have begun to worry that it's too easy, that I'm losing whatever skills I had in overcoming my anxiety and functioning like a human adult. 

(Ironically, a lot people, especially my students, see me as very independent. After all, I've lived a lot of places, starting entirely new in various academic programs or jobs, far from family/friends. And I do function in the non-social sphere pretty well, ish. (Where I don't is probably a different post.) 

Over Thanksgiving, I had dinner with a friend and her parents, since I couldn't go home or have my parents here. (Home being 10 hours away.) And after dinner but before dessert, we played a game called On a Scale of 1 to T-Rex. If you're not familiar, basically you have to act out what's on one of three cards-- everyone simultaneously-- and do so at the level (1-10) of what shows on your own (hidden) card. Then you have to see if anyone else is acting out at the same level and if your guess is right, you get points, and if not, you get, well, bad points. 

Doing this made me realize, in stark terms, that I don't function at a 10. I'm so scared of looking foolish, even as other people around me are acting foolish in the exact same way that I just ... don't. As my friend's dad said, my 10 is another person's 6. 

The first time I had to teach a class (I was in an masters program for teaching, after all) it was a total nightmare that I still cringe to think about. The first time I taught my own class, as a teaching associate in my PhD program, I followed advice I'd read in a handbook and brought a soda with me. The point, the advice went, was so that I would have something to do with my hands. I promptly managed to get covered in ginger ale (or some other clear colored soda, I don't recall) when it fizzed out when I opened it. 

I'm a little better than I was. I'm capable of eating alone in restaurants if necessary or hanging out alone in a coffee shop. I teach all the time now, obviously, although I still get nervous on the first day, and sometimes other days too depending on my rapport with the class. I'm even capable of acting on a stage with an audience, if necessary. (Trial by fire. I was the stage manager for a production where the lead dropped out just before opening. I already knew all the lines, more or less, because that's what happens when you stage manage, so it was either I take the role or we didn't do the play. It was a weird play called BecauseHeCan and my character seduced people, had most of the lines, had to react to a literal naked person on stage (although did not have to get naked myself!!), and basically had to be villainous. Because of the kind of direct we had for this play-- the kind who tells you what to say, how to say it, and where to stand or what to do as you say it, I managed, and that actually helped me get past my worst fear. I ended up on stage several times after that. 

All this has held me back. It has made job interviews exquisitely painful. It has kept me from meeting new people who could have been friends or partners. And I want to work on changing it. 

Of course I'd come to that realization during a pandemic when everyone needs to stay socially distant while living in a rural area where I have no idea how to meet people anyway... 

I just wanted to add that since.... 2001? the quote on my Livejournal page (because LJ had boxes where you could put permanent things) was as follows: 

"Actually," she continued dreamily, "I'm not modest or inhibited. What I am is the confused product of a semipuritanical upbringing and a liberal education. Which means that I think it's wrong for me to do anything, but I think it's perfectly all right for other people to do whatever they want. Does that make sense?"

I found it in a romance novel -- and I would not have been able to tell you which one until I googled it just now (Apparently it's Judith McNaught's Double Standards, a book I remember exactly nothing about besides this quote.) It fits me so perfectly and I think it goes a long way to describing me when it comes to other people.  I have abandoned LJ, alas. Find me, comment to me, on DW, please!