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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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a space for youth writing on mental health & identity
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![]() “And who’s this?” my friend’s friend inquired shortly after chatting with my friend. “This is my friend! Introduce yourself, Daniel,” my friend responded, gesturing his hand to me. “H-.” The simple sentence “Hello, my name is Daniel Son,” was a jumble of gibberish in my cloudy thoughts. My mouth moved, only to produce no sound. The words constricted my throat, threatening to choke me, rendering me unable to speak. My eyes darted around as I sank my teeth into my lower lip, my face flushed in conspicuous embarrassment. Seconds turned to hours as I continuously shifted my weight from one foot to another, fumbling for these six words--words that even a toddler could articulate--face redder than the velvet stripes of my backpack. I could feel their gazes on me like a thousand pound weight. Finally, I muttered, looking down at the creases of my white shoes: “H-hi, I’m D-Daniel Son.”
Yes, I knew it wasn’t exactly normal that even the simplest social interactions would leave me sweaty and flustered with a racing pulse, but I had eventually learned to accept it as part of who I was. Such was just one of my many experiences with my personal roadblock: social anxiety. Any form of interaction outside of my accustomed circle of friends brought me the feeling of utter dread, similar to the force of a brick strapped to my chest. I’ve dealt with a myriad of similar circumstances, as socializing is, ironically, a big part of my life. Heck, I can’t even walk home without calling my friends to keep me company. Having friends to confide and trust in is something that I have always found imperative in life, so why was it that I had such a hard time making new ones? Everything changed as the pandemic hit and the world went into lockdown. Having school virtually meant that I wouldn’t have to talk to people in person, but more importantly, it meant no more awkward social interactions. During this period of quarantining, I often had group calls with my friends that had an expansive range of uses: homework, gaming, just talking, and more. Mutuals--or friends of friends--would often join the call to talk with us. This, of course, meant I couldn’t be nearly as rowdy as I would like to be in respect for the new person, but I noticed that all traces of my social anxiety disappeared even when new people joined the call: after all, this was online--not real life. I started becoming friends with people I had never imagined speaking with, and soon enough, I found myself exploiting the pandemic as a temporary solution to my social anxiety, as I seized this opportunity to make new friends in an environment that I was comfortable with. However, with the increased dissemination of vaccines and in-person hangouts between friends, I quickly felt all these comforting feelings flee. A flash of questions raced in my mind: how would I talk to people in real life? What will they think when they see me? How am I supposed to act? Would my social anxiety end up embarrassing me again? It was hard to grasp the fact that the previously random faces that I had seen in the hallway were now the faces of my friends. I mentally prepared myself for the worst as I finally hung out with people I met online for the first time. Sure enough, I was nothing short of a stuttering mess when I started hanging out with them; I couldn’t seem to understand--why was I like this? As I met more and more people for the first time, however, I found myself getting accustomed to the initial awkwardness that occurred within the first couple of minutes of each hangout--until, soon enough, it wasn’t awkward anymore. I began to grow desensitized to the awkwardness, and instead, scoped in on the more important picture: making new friends. It was then when I finally realized: what’s the difference between meeting new peers online and meeting them in person? When meeting them online, I kept in mind my interest in becoming friends with them, lacking any thoughts of discomfort due to the online aspect, which would then bloom into a successful friendship, and all I had to do was replicate the same thing in real life. I learned that walking into a situation solely thinking about the awkwardness that would unfold involuntarily forges those thoughts into reality. By maintaining my focus on the larger picture, I was able to negate these awkward feelings and move forward to lead a more successful social life. COVID-19 was a period of discomfort for the country, the world--everyone. To me, however, it served as a stepping stone to overcome a form of my own discomfort: social anxiety. Comments are closed.
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November 2023
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