Social anxiety and depression had other plans, leaving me in an ugly cycle of self-isolation and rumination. Terrified of rejection, I'd meet someone interesting during one of my English lectures and invite them out for frozen yogurt in my head.
Being thrown into a group of new strangers each and every year, as is typical in so many American public school systems, is deeply evolutionarily unnatural. Under ancestral conditions, humans did not encounter strangers with nearly the same frequency that we experience now. And guess what? Humans have an entirely different way of interacting with strangers (including appropriate levels of hesitation and skepticism) than we have when interacting with others whom we know well.
Social anxiety, more often than not, is about inexperience. Most of us only go out for dinner or have an event once a week, and that becomes our entire social outlet. So when we do interact with someone new, it feels high-stakes. You feel pressured to say the perfect thing.
Your autonomic nervous system has been running a background process all day (or all week), quietly allocating resources toward an upcoming social event. Planning the outfit. Rehearsing potential conversations. Calculating travel time. Managing the micro-anxiety of 'Will I be interesting enough? Will I say something weird? Will I be too tired to be fun?' This is what psychologist and neuroscience researcher Stephen Porges calls neuroception: the way your nervous system scans for safety and threat below the level of conscious awareness.
Retirement is supposed to be the golden years, the reward for decades of hard work. Yet for many retirees, social situations that once felt natural suddenly become sources of deep discomfort and anxiety. I've watched this happen with my own father after he left the corporate world. The man who once navigated office politics with confidence suddenly seemed lost at neighborhood gatherings, struggling to answer the simple question "So, what do you do?"
In some cases, fear of looking dumb is a symptom of social anxiety disorder (APA, 2022), and it can be associated with perfectionism and fear of failure. It can show up in issues such as imposter syndrome, or feeling like a fraud and worrying about not rising to the expectations of a high-achieving position. It can also be related to stereotype threat, when someone's membership in a marginalized group leads them to worry that they will act in a way that confirms negative stereotypes.
If you're someone who rejoices at self-serve checkouts, automated banking, or online shopping-and I'll admit, I tick two out of three of these boxes-have you ever stopped to think about how taxing these shifts might be on the incidental social interactions we have with others? Recently, while reading Why Brains Need Friends: The Neuroscience of Social Connection-And Why We All Need More, I realised just how much these incidental social opportunities are diminishing.
It is the afternoon of the fawn. Everywhere you turn, in workplaces and households alike, yearlings with saucer eyes, brown felt noses, and stilt-like legs are wondering if you're mad at them. The fawn response, as it's known in some precincts of social media, bundles various forms of ingratiating, people-pleasing behavior. It can manifest in threatening situations, where expressing authentic emotion could elicit a powerful person's wrath or cruelty,
The holidays tend to be a time for gathering, with work parties, family dinners and school showcases. And socializing can be awkward! But avoiding awkwardness can also get in the way of fun and connection. So if you're considering bailing on your community potluck or office party because you're anxious, read this first! Here are six tips from psychologists Ali Mattu and Fallon Goodman on how to embrace the awkwardness and practice social courage.
Before the pandemic, Zakiya Gibbons was everywhere, all the time. Whenever I saw her, she was on her way to another engagement she'd double stacked that day. She's a people person. A textbook extrovert. But she lived alone during the pandemic, and like a lot of people, all that alone time made her a little neurotic. Suddenly, going on dates started to feel draining, and she experienced a social anxiety she didn't recognize in herself.
When I first received an invitation to my friend's wedding in Tulum, Mexico, I was excited and honored to be included. Then, as I read the RSVP instructions, it hit me: I wasn't offered a plus-one. Instead of being upset or offended, I remembered my friend had always wanted an intimate celebration. I also knew the bride and groom had likely considered that I didn't have a serious partner at the time, and that our mutual acquaintances from college would make easy tablemates at dinner.
There are all kinds of things we could murmur to our brains to soothe the fear of being judged. You could point out that almost nobody is looking at you; mostly people are too wrapped up in themselves. You could point out that you already know you're competent from how you rise to occasions at work; there probably isn't much to mock about you. You can pat and soothe your brain with evidence that the thing it's afraid of is very, very unlikely.
Walking into a room you've never been in before can be one of the most nerve-racking experiences one can go through. Without prior knowledge of who's in there, what those people are like, and where the best place to sit is, it can be a serious anxiety trigger for the socially awkward among us. But what if there was someone who could mediate those anxieties on behalf of the people who have them?
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