Truths

Do It. Just Do It.

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If I had to choose my largest complaint about social anxiety, I’d have to say the way it twists my perception.

It makes me exaggerate the future to the proportions of an atom bomb detonation. Fuck curiosity, anticipation killed the cat.

That doesn’t make sense?

I don’t give two shits. I went to sleep at five thirty A.M and it is now 8.A.m and I was woken up by someone who doesn’t know how to respect other people by slamming my door against the wall and screaming about dishes.

You see I have a bad habit of snaking in the middle of the night. I will eat everything and anything and sometimes I use multiple dishes. It’s horrible. I don’t usually take them from my room until early morning. This morning I did so and one plate had syrup on it from some waffles. I was rinsing it off when my dad said he’d “take care of it if I wanted” so I left it in the sink.

Now here he comes slamming my door against the wall screaming about the dishes I didn’t rinse off. The dishes he said he didn’t mind taking care of, because he was doing them anyway. Those dishes.

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Then he turns up the stereo in the living room and sings at the top of his lungs.

Disrespect.

So it’s 8.a.m now and I’m having fun with my subwoofer and I give zero fucks if any of my metaphors make sense in this post.

If you don’t have social anxiety as a disorder than you probably don’t catch the jist of what I mean by anticipation killed the cat. I’ll give you a few examples.

When I first started high school, before I ever knew my behavior had a special name or label I took an Earth Science class full of freshman, sophomores, juniors and seniors. The syllabus said there was a presentation project due at the end of the year.

I spent each night thinking about that project. Most nights were spent crying about it and similar things, and the few nights I didn’t cry I just destroyed the last bit of my confidence and self-esteem by berating myself because I felt guilty I couldn’t be like the other kids.

My teacher happened to have me in a college prep class as well and when we did mandala projects and mine was rather dark and disturbing (I swear I hadn’t planned it that way) he realized there were reasons for my silence and if not my silence, at least for my odd demeanor. He always asked how I was and always made conversation with me. When I showed up in the science class with a project at the end of the year, he stared and said “Oh, you actually have one?”

I said yep and I did that fucking presentation and it was one of the worst experience of my life and at the end of the year when grades closed I saw on my report that teacher gave me a massive amount of extra credit points.

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So I got special treatment in the end. But the year up until that date was torture; it was on my mind every day, every moment, along with all the other horrible social things I was forced to do in that educational prison. This was before I researched my own symptoms and realized I had a problem that could be coped with better than how I was coping.

I won’t go into detail about the four years it took to convince my mother I was suffering.

Being in the advanced classes with all the rich white kids talking about their summer trips to Paris didn’t help either. There’s no equality in these schools. Hispanics are encouraged into the college prep classes (no, in my town they’re not the minority so stop), white kids are encouraged into the advanced classes, and the rest of us? If we look Hispanic we’re lucky enough to get into the college prep (my life story) but if not you’re fucked. They’ll preach “no kid left behind” and then choose specific ones to leave behind.

Why was I in the advanced classes? Because I knew my brain and I knew I wouldn’t survive in the regular classes. I’d blow them off.

What I’ve learned is people love words. They love words that make them sound good and smart. But their words are never backed up by intention or action. I hate when people say “well, the intentions were good.”

The intentions can’t be good when they’re lying through their teeth. The intentions can’t be good when they’re an illusion. That invalidates their intentions.

img_5292Anyway, anticipation of social events is always worse than the actual event. Always. I know this and yet I still get that bubbling pit of uncertainty and overwhelming despair in my stomach. Where am I going to sit this week? I don’t want to come in between people’s friendships so I should get their early and let everyone sit around me who wants to. But if I get there early I risk having to have a conversation with the professor, or rather sit there awkwardly and try to shove words from my mouth like a toddler with two tongues. When people start filing in the classroom I’ll have to glance at them and feel like an idiot when they look away quicker than I do–did I do something wrong? On my face? My expression? They just know how uncomfortable I am and it’s the end of the semester now, they already know how odd I am. When no one sits next to me–oh shit, I’m going to be stuck at this table by myself of course, I’m the outcast as usual. Great. Jolly. Look how stupid I look.

It’s just constant scrutiny of one particular moment in time. It replays over and over and the closer it gets to the date the stronger it gets. That’s when the urges come. The urges to skip class or weasel my way out of something surge. Sometimes I give in, other times I don’t. Sometimes I have to lie, sometimes not. When I’m at that seemingly uncontrollable level of anxiety I will manipulate whoever I have to in whatever way possible to make sure I don’t have to leave this room. I know how lies work. They’re powerful.

It’s like an addiction; it is an addiction.

Anticipation is one thing, but then you have to deal with the borderline paranoia. At least, I do. When I’m in a room of people I’m convinced without a doubt people talk about me. I’ve said this before. I keep saying it because it’s one of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with in my social anxiety.

thanks-for-constantly-talking-about-me-behind-my-back-youre-right-where-you-belong-behind-me-enemy-quoteI know they talk about me. I know they ask each other why I am the way I am (I guess I think I present myself differently than others and I probably do) and I know they ask each other why I’m such an arrogant, rude, prick. I know one of the women in my classes, the one who stares–I know damn well she has something to say about me to her fucking friends. I believed she’d read this blog and if I’m being 100% honest, I’m still not convinced she hasn’t.

I see disgust and judgment in expressions that aren’t there. I see it and I feel it and I can’t help but fall to the feet of it. I hear lies in their words and their tone and I trust no one. Why would I have a reason to? I know I’m seen as lazy and stupid and a coward to be sitting in my room all day like there’s something physically wrong with me, like I have a  real reason to be housebound, and when I ask people if that’s what they think and they look at me with that bewilderment in their eyes and their voice I know they’re lying.

It’s uncomfortable to walk outside or be outside or be around people. Yes, I cope, yes I push myself out of my comfort zone but most days I appreciate the fact that I can snuggle in this fuzzy robe and not have to say a word to any stupid fucker for days upon days.

This semester has been a rollercoaster in a horror game. My moods were all over the place but for the last month and a half they seem to have been quelled by something. The calm before the storm? A result of all the work I’ve been putting into my mental health over the last two years?

I don’t know.

I do know last week I had enough confidence to speak with my group and share ideas. This week, because I am now running on two and a half hours of sleep, I give zero fucks about all of them. Zero fucks. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, and don’t you dare try to talk to me in baby voice or act like you know what I go through just because you were “shy” in elementary school.

I dare a bitch to call me shy.

Do it.

I could use a fight.

About AlishiaDee (372 Articles)
Alishia D. is a blogger, a beginning novelist, and a counselor at 2nd Story Peer Respite house where diagnostic labels and the culture of mental health is long forgotten. She's a mental health peer who has bounced through as many labels as she has doctors, and enjoys being sarcastic when she can. She also hates writing in 3rd person.

11 Comments on Do It. Just Do It.

  1. Social anxiety is cruel. Sometimes I am in my own room in our building and if I hear some guys laughing on the ground beneath, I think they’re laughing about me, even though they aren’t even seeing me!

    Liked by 1 person

    • That’s the worst! That happens to me when there’s a group walking towards me or just standing around and I hear them laugh and I automatically believe it’s about me. Social anxiety is crazy.

      Liked by 3 people

      • I completely agree its the worse, I hate this, does anything help?

        Liked by 1 person

      • I just remind myself that they’re probably not talking about me. Rationally, I know they’re not when I’m not around people, but as soon as I’m around people rationality flies out the window and I’m convinced they’re talking about me–so that best thing to do is tackle the monster while you’re in it’s midst, while it’s vulnerable. I only tell myself people aren’t talking about me when I believe they’re talking about me :D. It’s a struggle all the time but I cope with it the best I can.

        Like

  2. Okay. That’s what that’s called. In school, anytime I passed people who were laughing I was positive it was about me. It’s not as bad as it once was, but it still rears up at me now and then. Very difficult to combat, to ‘keep my head on straight’ as my dad used to say. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  3. omg, can I say I love you and shy hell to the no!! There is nothing shy about you, or me, you explain me to a tee, but I don’t know what is wrong with me, I have what I call my other personalities, I break them up into my different names, the name that I was called when I was younger and going to school, was my middle name, she is awkward, scared of her own shadow, she is hurting, hurting so badly she wants to die sometimes, but my moms voice is forever in my head teaching me all the good things she taught me,so that will never happen but sometimes she just wants to let go so bad, get out of the pain, get out of the memories of the past, she can’t cope with what happened to her, she is WEAK!!! She is the mat people use under their feet, she is the one that will give the shirt off her back to the stranger she just ran into that looks like they need her shirt, or they ask for her shirt! She cries, I don’t, I now mostly go by my given 1st name, she is strong, independent, she is the one who writes with such honesty she cries remembering the events as if they were happening all over! The other’s I haven’t named, I do call one Cybil if I am spelling the name of that movie right, I so relate to her, she has so many different personalities, they end up taken control for days at a time. She is not the same as the movie one, but its what I relate with, I have one that is what I always wanted to be, successful, confident, not worried what others thought about me, could give two shits less if someone disagree’s with her, she is right all the time. She will fight a chainsaw, she doesn’t fear jail, or anything. I love what you wrote, you amaze me, I still am convinced you are my twin!! I love your posts, forever keep them up, for often they keep me going! If you can please let me know what this is called? I have never known what was wrong with me! I love my bedroom/sanctuary/prison/hiding place/the place I rule, I am queen,no one can hurt me, no one can intimidate me, I can love me, I don’t have to hate myself! It’s also a torment chamber when he is home, right now as I speak, I am being told over the phone, that I am inbreed, stupid, ignorant, I don’t deserve to live, I should load his gun and shoot myself before he gets home so he doesn’t have too. I hate that my daughter is witnessing this, my oldest daughter! She is beautiful, smart, and she is hearing how he thinks my whole family is inbreed, we’re stupid, and I better not do anything with her tonight. I am not allowed to spoil her, so I can’t try new hair styles on her long beautiful hair, I can’t do nails for her, because if I do then I am raising a spoiled brat. It really makes me want to load the gun and shoot myself, so that she doesn’t have to endure this anymore. I love her and my youngest daughter so much, that I can’t leave them, if I just could maybe their life would be better, maybe worse, i don’t know but as for now. I will love her with all my heart, explain how its the alcohol talking, and I am trying my best to get us out of here. I don’t see a way but I will find a way, then live in terror each night that he is going to show up and kill us all!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Haha thank you for reading!! And it’s totally fine having a lot of commentary, don’t even worry about it! I don’t mind it at all, and if other people have a problem with it they don’t have to look at the page lol.

      In response to the personalities you were describing, I definitely agree we have a lot of similarities haha; I didn’t say this in my post but I have a young personality in me as well who is very hurt and is the one who is present most often in my depressions. She’s the one who convinces me into suicidal ideation and she cries a lot and honestly annoys the rest of my brain because nothing any of us can say can get her out of the hole. This isn’t a disorder level for me and I don’t think it’s Dissassociative Identity Disorder or anything because I don’t “Switch” personalities, we’re just all here hanging out hahaha.–I think this kind of stuff is fairly normal for many people. I think we have a lot of different people within is, and some people just don’t split it into different people. We all have personalities we put out to the world depending on the situations we’re in and that’s how I see it for me. I have the arrogant sides of me that protect those “weaker” and more timid and hurting sides of me. I think most people do; I think it’s part of what makes us human.

      Whoever is telling you that over the phone shouldn’t have your number in any way shape or form. That’s straight up harassment, and I hope something can be done to shield your children from all of that. It’s not healthy for any of you at all! I know I grew up with that kind of stuff happening in my house all the time, constantly, and usually if it couldn’t be taken out on the adults of the house it was taken out on me. I know you will find a way to overcome all that, you sound like a very strong, determined person! Your children would never, ever be better off without you, they need you just as much as you need them! Whoever is telling you to load that gun and shoot yourself doesn’t have a grip on reality because you deserve to be here and you deserve to spend quality time with your children! I hope you all find a way to get away from that kind of harassment soon enough!

      Liked by 1 person

      • I read you rant today, oh my gosh, how do you describe what is going on in your head like that? I can’t seem to get the words to describe what I am thinking and feeling at the time, and you do it with such honesty and talent, I hope this don’t offend (huge fear of mine) I LOVE YOUR RANTS!!!

        Liked by 1 person

      • Oh no, that doesn’t offend me at all! I get fearful that I offend people easily too so I understand lol. And you know I’m just one of those people who is able to write what they feel, at least that’s what my professors tell me. But especially when it comes to rants lol. And thank you for the compliment! I appreciate it 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      • He is correct, in a MAJOR WAY LADY! lol, love it!!

        Liked by 1 person

  4. sorry that more of a commentary than a comment, lol. It just so happened he called drunk during my comment, next time, I promise I will walk away from the computer, and come back later to finish my comment, it just helped to to write it, if I hadn’t of I might of said something that would have really got me hurt, and she would have witnessed it. I will just “WALK AWAY NEXT TIME” forgive me!

    Liked by 1 person

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