AND THE STRANGE FEELING OF HAVING GROWN OUT OF IT
I remember feeling, even at a young age, that the “pain” in the term “painfully shy” was often woefully misattributed. Usually, when people use the phrase, they are referring to the social pain that the shy person in question causes the people around them by being awkward and quiet. People, as social creatures, often don’t know what to do with the person who cowers in the corner at a party. However, what I remember most about my childhood of shyness was the pain it was causing me.
I felt so frightened of people that I would cause myself physical discomfort to avoid interacting with them. I refused to ask to use the restroom in kindergarten, instead I would have accidents or bring myself to tears trying to hold it. At large family gatherings, I would go hungry rather than make my way to the kitchen to get food because that’s where the majority of the people were. In most situations in which I was struggling, it never once occurred to me that I could ask somebody for assistance and that most people are kind and willing to offer it. Though I’m sure I confused and even frustrated many people, the pain itself seemed to be in my possession alone. At the time, it seemed like the whole world was against me, the strangers and authority figures that I was so terrified of, as well as the close family members and friends who were trying to cure me of my affliction by forcing me to interact with people.
I have a much kinder view of the world now, trusting people to be kind, helpful, and generous in the face of social awkwardness (for the most part). Part of that comes from having a much kinder view of myself. The majority of my shyness stemmed from an inaccurate perception of myself: that I was so inconceivably different from everybody around me that, in my eyes, there didn’t exist a world in which I could be “one of them” or even interact with these people safely. In retrospect, this view seems almost vain. What was so “special” about me that I didn’t deserve to be a part of society like everybody else? Yet speaking to my friends and acquaintances, this almost “alien” view of oneself seems a common one to have held at some point in life. We know ourselves, our complexities and our “abnormalities” better than anyone. It seems only right that, on instinct, some of us would think of ourselves as so different to the point where we refused to interact with others in fear that someone would notice that we weren’t like them.
It’s strange, now, to look back at my childhood self. I have so much love for her and everybody else who grew up “painfully” shy or who still are to this day. That kind of fear makes life difficult and can stick with you. Shyness isn’t debilitating for everyone, but it was for me, and I’m grateful to have gained some trust in both myself and the world around me. My hope is for all the people who struggle with this to find the confidence it takes to work towards creating a world that is comfortable for them to live in. Whether that is by practicing putting themselves out of their comfort zone more frequently, finding a more positive self-image, or just working on calming feelings of social anxiety. It is possible to escape those feelings of fear and exist comfortably and happily in a social society.