Social Anxiety Is Exhausting, Especially As A Mom

"The elementary school auditorium is already sweltering by the time I wedge myself into a random empty seat between two dads in puffer vests. Every parent in town seems to be here, fanning themselves with programs and craning for a glimpse of their kid. I spot a few familiar faces and feel my pulse quicken. My son's up there, back row, scanning the crowd for me. I lift my arm to wave, pretending to be composed, the kind of mom who relishes these things."

"I've always been a worrier, but over time, the unease I carried became heavier, sharper, something I would one day name as an anxiety disorder. My brain runs its quiet inventory: where to look, when to clap, how to stand without looking awkward when it's over. It's exhausting, this choreography of appearing at ease. I'm the kind of person who replays conversations in my head, wincing at the things I wish I'd said differently, the jokes that fell flat."

"I grew up halfway across the country, in a place where no one knew my ex-husband, where I wasn't defined by someone else's history. Here, I'm raising my kids in the town that raised him, surrounded by people who've already chosen sides, even if they don't mean to. Since the divorce, that quiet sense of being misplaced has only intensified. Community events that once felt tolerable now leave me restless, hyper-aware, scanning for somewhere to stand that doesn't feel like standing out."

A parent sits in a sweltering elementary school auditorium, waving to a child and relying on an edible to steady nerves. The parent experiences chronic anxiety that has sharpened into a disorder, prompting constant mental choreography about where to look, when to clap, and how to appear at ease. The mind replays conversations, fixates on perceived social missteps, and interprets smiles and shifts in tone as rejection. Divorce and relocation intensify feelings of displacement while raising children in the ex-husband’s hometown. Community events increase restlessness and hyper-awareness, creating a persistent sense of standing out despite attempts at friendliness.

Read at Scary Mommy