A Memory from My Social Phobia Years

After I finally trusted my therapist enough, I brought in something for her to read describing my childhood, because I knew I wouldn't be able to articulate it verbally. It was really heavy, and she was so gentle and accepting, but I was terrified of her and expected rage or ridicule. I left thinking “Maybe she doesn't think I'm some disgusting monster. What the Hell just happened?”

Anyhow, later in the day, I wrote her the following. I think I did it mainly because I was so afraid I had disgusted her. I wanted, like a child, to show a sort of “See how hard I will work to change if I just know what to do!!! Please don't be mad! Please help me and don't hurt me.! I promise to work hard to be better.” Anyhow, this is what I sent her:

[C],

I should have asked for a hug today, either right after you read that, or right before I left. I really felt like I needed one today. Why didn't I? I didn't want to push you and I didn't want to be rejected. I'm super worried about being physically invasive by asking. I almost thought you were going to give me one right before I left, but then, nope.

That reminds me of the social phobia group therapy I was in in 1992/1993. We got to the point of role-playing our bad situations, so I regularly had to stand in front of everyone, and role-play asking one of the women out on dates. God was that hard and embarrassing. Looking back, was it ever stilted, too:

“Hi.”.... “Hi.” ... “Great weather today, eh?” ... “It sure is.” ... “My name is [M].” ... “I am Pam.” ... “I have noticed you here before, Pam, and I wanted to ask you if you would want to go out to see a movie with me please?” ... “That sounds like fun, [M]! I would like to go see a movie with you!” ... “Great! I will pick you up at seven o'clock, Pam!” ... “Bye!” ... “Bye!”

The whole time I'm shaking and hyperventilating and beet-red. And everybody clapping when I make it through successfully. Good God! I'm grinning right now. How absurd.

Anyhow, about physical invasiveness.

The thing that I'm reminded of was where I was role-playing driving with a date to a movie, so we were sitting on chairs side by side in front of the rest of the group. I was having to practice dating small-talk. My partner was this woman named [L]. I thought she was pretty cute. Anyhow, the guy running the group coached us along through all this stuff, and he told me to put my arm around her shoulders as I pretended to drive. I couldn't do it. I fell to pieces. I was completely panic attacking, shaking uncontrollably, flushed, and crying a bit. He kept at it for several minutes as I haltingly argued that it wasn't right: she was another patient in group and it might make her uncomfortable. It wasn't fair to her etc. Even after she repeatedly assured me she didn't mind, I couldn't do it. I said that I couldn't tell if she meant it, or was just agreeing because she was too phobic to stand up for herself. Finally, she just grabbed my hand and held it over her shoulder, and we role-played the rest of the drive. I was not at all good with that role-playing scenario. Everybody still clapped. That was the last dating role-play he had me do. All the rest were things like buying a suit, or complaining about food to waitresses.

Two weeks after that, three of us got a ride from one of the other group members, and [L] was one of them. This was pretty late in the program (I ended up going through it twice), so with the exception of me, everyone seemed to be pretty social. I was generally still barely able to communicate. I was still at the level of exposure of going to the bus stop and standing there for a few minutes and going home. I wasn't even yet at the point of being able to get on a bus. I was still calling restaurants to ask about their menus as practice for talking to people. I have a huge problem using phones now.

One guy was organizing the four of us going for supper as a further step in exposure for the following week, and we were working out the logistics, when I interrupted, blurting out, slurring, overly loud: “Will you please go on a date with me?” to [L]. Silence in the car. She said okay, but the rest of the ride until I got dropped off was silent. I then suggested we meet for a coffee (after I was standing outside the car). I can't even remember where we met... I remember sitting awkwardly across from her, though, at a table somewhere. Our conversation must have been scintillating!

I find this all pretty sad in a way. I feel really bad for the me that existed then. It's also perversely funny as hell in a way, it all seems so absurd and ridiculous. I remember that constant fear, panic, mental disintegration, despair, and self-loathing, though. That period was terrible. Fuck, did I work hard at that stuff. Two years of daily exposure goal-setting, breathing exercises, intentional mistake practice, confronting mistaken beliefs and distorted thinking, lists and lists of goal hierarchies, pages and pages of following my thinking behind thoughts like “people will laugh at me if I make a mistake” before I became remotely functional.

My stuff was literally like this, each goal worked on daily, sometimes for weeks, until the anxiety was manageable before tackling another step:

Goal X: Visualize standing at door for five minutes while doing breathing exercises.

Goal X: Stand at door for five minutes.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Stand at open door for five minutes.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Take five steps outside and turn around.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Take five steps outside and stand for one minute before going back inside.... 
 

After months:

Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Make eye contact with waitress.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Smile at waitress.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Ask waitress how she's doing.... 
 

(I practised that one so much I always chat with waitresses now, it's so automatic. Come to think of it, waitresses were such a huge part of practising, I wonder if that's why I feel the need to eat at restaurants every couple of days, and more importantly, look to waitresses as potential dates? For sure it is.)

After a year:

Goal X: Visualize...

Goal X: Go to house party and stay for fifteen minutes.
Goal X: Visualize....
Goal X: Go to house party and make eye contact with one woman.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Go to house party and make eye contact with two women.
Goal X: Visualize...
Goal X: Go to house party and smile at one woman.
Goal X: Visualize asking one woman her name... 
 

I'm actually pretty proud of all the hard work that took. All with thousands of panic attacks and the mental disintegration. All the self-hatred. I kept at it. The non-verbal signals I must have been getting in response must have been terrible. Endlessly going through the Anxiety and Phobia Workbook and the book Dying of Embarrassment. And then I lost my virginity, and all that thinking disappeared for years. Sublimated is probably more accurate. Why did I think of that stuff? I know what set it off, thinking about a hug invading your personal space, but was that all?

Thanks for listening to me,

[M]