The Low Hum Of Social Anxiety

I have always had a “touch” of anxiety. The anxiety is always regarding my relationships with other people. It’s always what people are thinking of me. It’s always anxiety about whether or not they hate my guts.

It should not be a surprise to anyone that I have struggled to thrive as an adult because of this.

The world likes social people. The world likes charming and charismatic people. The world likes people who are not overly concerned about every little thing they say and do so they either exist in large silences, or sudden bursts of personality that feel off putting because of the silences.

I’m trying my best to end the silences now. To speak more. To show myself more. To be vulnerable.

I do not like it. But after over 20 years, I’ve been left in a position where I don’t have a choice anymore. There’s just no more time and my body just won’t allow me to silence myself anymore. The moment you taste freedom, you can’t go back, as it seems.

But still, the low hum of anxiety that tells me I should not speak is there. I just don’t always listen to the hum at full volume anymore.

The low hum gets loudest when I think about having to sell myself. To pitch. To make someone trust me or my vision. Pitching, as it turns out, was of course my kryptonite in college as we learned the ropes of the film and screenwriting trade. I did not like “selling myself or my ideas.” I wished to death someone would just see my talent, or read my stuff, and give me the opportunity. The anxiety buzzes in my ears like the screeching of police radio that I’ve been clinging to for the past four years. There is this particularly heinous sound for Chicago PD, where the channel is tuning so the static kind of whirs and whines. Then it cuts out.

I sincerely allowed myself to listen to that sound and more, instead of conquer the anxiety around pitching myself and taking myself seriously as a writer.

The hum is back. But I’m trying harder than I ever have to turn it down.