My previous blog, where I outlined that I believe that my future lies outside of this country, is being strengthened by the day, not least following the recent EU referendum result. Far be it from me to focus this blog away from mental health and anxiety and onto politics for any length of time, but this recent result has turned this country into chaos, of that no-one can argue. Maybe it is because I'm getting older (I recently "celebrated" my 29th birthday) but I genuinely believe this country is changing for the worse. Couple that with my social pressures and own personal issues that, if they play out, could result in a very lonely future, and my craving to go somewhere else is getting greater by the day.
 |
| Being plagued by a swarm of arrows doesn't help either |
On top of this, I believe that somewhere on earth lies a place when one can feel accepted, comfortable and at ease with any company. Where everyone is open-minded and willing to respect everyone else who walks into their pub, social circle, school or workplace. Perhaps this is fallacy, because this sort of atmosphere is not something I have ever come across living here. I feel that I am always being judged, which, yes, is a feeling partly exacerbated by social anxiety but also a result of the British way of socialising - competition and disregard for those who don't "fit" the conventional psyche or fashion. As much as this 'being judged' feeling could just be my paranoia (as a result of anxiety), I do believe the British way of socialising is not conducive to a) me generally and b) people with anxiety or whose anxiety has affected their social comfort, as in my case today.
Even before anxiety really started kicking in way back in 1997, even at primary school I never truly "fitted in;" I've always been a quiet outsider, found it difficult to make friends and had less confidence as a result. Why this was the case I don't know; upbringing possibly, being an only child and maybe just who I am, but that's so far gone now it's irrelevant. Then, when the anxiety did kick in (which, in part, may have been because socialising was so hard!), this made socialising even more difficult and as such most of my life has been spent relying on a small group of friends, most of whom I am fortunate to say are still in my life now. The problem is, because my life has been ravaged by anxiety, this has done two things: 1) made my social opportunities today limited, as a result of the inability to make lots of friendships back when everyone else does (the education years), and 2) make forging new connections and making new friends very difficult, especially when I have to force the issue. Obviously, anxiety for me today is far less of a day-to-day issue gladly, but the legacy remains.
I'm focusing primarily on (2) for the purposes of this blog. I will reiterate - I have a select few who are very good friends. I know some people can't say this but fortunately I can. I rely on them heavily for my social interaction, given that I have a very small family and no (prospective of) a relationship. Naturally, as we get older, opportunities to socialise with these friends will become less (see last blog) so meeting new people is more crucial than ever. The same goes for relationships of course, but (again, see last blog) the likelihood of this is so low that it's almost irrelevant mentioning it. If I find it difficult meeting new people generally, what chance have I got in forging a relationship?
So why is it that I find it so difficult to make new friendships, and why is it that I am awkward in social situations even with people I've known for some time? Why do I feel like I'm boring the person I'm with? That I'm uninteresting? That it's forced and hard work? Here are my musings - and apologies for the sweeping generalisations.
1) The British social way that I outlined above. Some social occasions are so analytical; people have high expectations that everything has to go just-so. I don't understand this perspective and simply prefer to go out for a good laugh. Apparently that's too simplistic.
2) The British materialism. In my 'wannabe' middle-class town, all people seem to talk about is weddings, children, travelling, skiing, hang-gliding and generally other things associated with wealth. I don't want to talk about things like this (and couldn't anyway). Maybe if I hadn't had years of anxiety I'd be in more of a position to talk about these sorts of things, but in a way I'm glad I don't. I like being different. Perhaps this is one positive that anxiety has brought about. However, being different is, for me, apparently seen as being dull.
3) Drink. I like real ales and tend to have a few of such when I go out. But drinking is endemic in British social activity and again, if drinking excessively isn't involved things are perceived as dull. Moreover, if I'm not drinking (as much) then people see me as dull. Then everyone around you gets drunk and you're sober. I'd still rather be this person than one of the drunkards, but it just makes for an uncomfortable (at best) evening.
4) Confidence I. I've blogged a number of times that anxiety has affected my confidence in some ways, socially being the main one from a negative perspective. Because I've had limited opportunities in my life to do things that are perceived as interesting I am perceived as dull (see (2)) and I can't make my life seem interesting - because of lack of confidence. It's a vicious circle.
5) Confidence II. This dullness is further exacerbated by a thought process I go through in social situations - I now notice when I think I'm being dull, e.g. when the other person looks away, yawns, or generally doesn't show much interest. Therefore I stop talking altogether, leading to uncomfortable silences, and overall, more dullness. To the point where, now, I don't talk about things that I think people will find dull, like my job, or my house, or how many hours I slept (or not) last night. And so ensues awkward silences.
Again I emphasise that I'm generalising and the fact remains that I do have friends who still like meeting up with me and they are very close to me, and are of course like-minded in many ways. But throw me into a setting where there are new people (or even people I'm not 100% comfortable with), or, again, dare I mention building relationships, I feel useless, regardless as to whether I'm actually useless or not.
So to go back to the start - I do believe that there is a place where numbers one to three above are less of an issue; where folk are accepted and where socialising is simply about enjoying the company of people, rather than playing games. Where people are less materialistic and not smashed out of their heads more often than not. If this were the case, numbers four and five would surely become things that would naturally be easier to overcome. People would express more interest in me, simply because I was different and not the same. Here, in this current society, unless you are the same, or have enough of a left-field talent that makes you cool to be different, you're automatically an outcast. Throw into the mix anxiety, scenarios such as the one outlined in my last blog become reality.
Then of course there is social media, which provides a constant, permanent platform to vomit all of this materialism. There's no escape. That's why I recently deleted my Facebook profile and stick with the theme of mental health on my Twitter account, i.e., utilising social media for (hopefully) something useful instead of a podium to shout about my life.
So yes, I do believe that years of anxiety is the cause of much of my social angst, but I also believe that the culture of social activity in this society does not help. It's far too complicated and analytical for my liking, and my want to remove myself from this current situation in a few years time is emphasised by this. I need to find somewhere with belonging - any suggestions gratefully received.
Best wishes
Al
No comments:
Post a Comment