I used to be so scared to talk to people that I would have to avoid eye contact. If I were in a situation where being social was required I would shake and become so overwhelmed that I couldn’t open my mouth. It felt as if my jaw were wired shut after clenching it so tightly to prevent my teeth from chattering.
This made high school feel like prison. Presentations in front of the class and reading out loud seemed to be humiliation rituals. One day in class we had been reading an epic poem and, of course, I got called on to read. I had an anxiety attack in the school bathroom that morning and hadn’t calmed down since.
“Can you please pick someone else?” I asked my teacher.
She showed me grace and picked someone else. Though not without assuring me that I would be reading next time.
Did I get called on to read in her next class? Yes. Was I still anxious? Absolutely. Did I turn into an anamorphous blob? No. It sucked, nonetheless, but I did it. I stuttered, my throat felt like it was swelling, but I did it. It was at this point I knew I had to stop listening to the voice in my head telling me that being quiet and shy was a weakness.
I had read “The Lovely Bones” by Alice Sebold twice before, but decided to read it again. There was a quote from the book that stayed with me this time around.
“She wasn’t much of a talker when there was nothing to say.”
The character spoke of this woman with such praise that I was taken back. Her quiet demeanor and disregard for conversation seemed almost poetic, not shameful. It changed my perspective on being quiet and soft spoken.
As I got older, and out of high school, talking became easier. I still have moments when I’m around large numbers of people and want to be nonverbal. Though I now have routines and ways to calm myself down. I also have a great support system that respects that I don’t want to talk all the time. They are OK with my silence and they’re also just fine when I want to talk nonstop.
It has been a learning process, but it didn’t happen overnight. I used exposure therapy to gradually manifest calmer outcomes. For example, I took many grocery trips to Walmart. Yes, Walmart. For someone with a heavily introverted and anxious personality, Walmart was awful. So in my teenage years I would plan out grocery lists, plan an optimal route and go suffer! No one really enjoys going to Walmart, of course, but it got easier. I didn’t shake as much and was able to just go without planning out my every move. Nowadays I can go and hate it a normal amount!
I also had overwhelming, dreadful anxiety when it came to events. I would have bursts of adrenaline just thinking of it and get so nervous I wouldn’t even talk about them. To help myself feel more comfortable I would think of the worst-case scenario beforehand. Not like imagining the roof caving in or anything, but bad overhead lighting or something. You can laugh; it is silly, but it helped. If I had an interview I would picture a white concrete room with very bright office lights and imagine that it would be alarmingly quiet. Then when I showed up and it wasn’t an absolute nightmare – I felt better.
Now I don’t recommend being a pessimistic fuddy-duddy. This was just my spin on the whole, “picture everyone naked” thing. I didn’t want to do that; I only wanted to not hyperventilate thinking I was breathing too loud.
Another thing that helped me was my faith. I was reading the Bible one day and came across Exodus 4:10-12. Moses tells God that he fumbles over his words and can’t relay a message. God assures him and says that He put Moses’ tongue in his mouth. He made Moses as he was and has made me exactly as I am.
Now when I stutter or mix up words I laugh instead of cowering and apologizing. If I’m anxious, I let someone know and step away until I’m feeling better. I’m not cured, but I know who I am and am proud of it.
