About social anxiety and shyness
- Thread starter wise_wind
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theslowesthand
Banned
They're certainly very similar.
But there can be 2 different causes: social anxiety & introversion.
But there can be 2 different causes: social anxiety & introversion.
Megaten
Well-known member
I think of it as an extreme form of shyness. Like how a lot people fear spiders but don't exactly have arachnophobia. I also think that's why some people are very intolerant to those with social phobia. Because if they're looking at it as shyness, then they might consider someone's unwillingness to face their fear as pure laziness. At least that's what my folks think. My mom says a lot "well I was shy too. But i got over that.". She's like the polar opposite of shy and is quick to hug a person she just met 5 minutes ago. Which seriously annoys me.
GraybeardGhost
Well-known member
Megaten, I think your mom may have inadvertently hit on an important difference between social anxiety and ordinary shyness: shyness is something than can be permanently overcome, while SA tends to be a lingering, chronic condition that must be subdued again and again if one is to function in society.
Many, if not most, kids are shy to some extent, not talking much or hiding behind their parents when meeting new people. It's a natural instinct. In a big, strange world full of big, strange people, the kid who is quiet and cautious, at least at first, has a better chance of survival than the one who happily runs up to strangers with candy and sketchy, windowless vans. It's simple prudence to be wary of a situation you don't fully understand, and for little kids, that describes most of the world around them.
Most kids, however, do get over it. They go to school, they socialize and acclimatize to their world, and they learn when to be forward and when it's wiser to hold back. They go on to live productive, socially active lives free of unnecessary fear. The acorn becomes the oak tree and branches out.
That's how it was for me. I was shy as a little kid, growing up in a social fishbowl of sorts—too much exposure too soon, I believe—but I got over it, at least to some extent. I went from a timid little boy straight to a brassy, obnoxious brat—a little awkward, perhaps, often saying or doing the wrong thing at the wrong time, but pretty much fearless as far as that specific social environment was concerned. I don't mean to suggest that I was completely without fear—what child is?—but the particular fishbowl into which I was born came with a strong sense of entitlement (in my young mind, anyway) alongside the exposure, and in that way it helped as much as it hindered my development.
The point is that I did get over the shyness.
Social anxiety came later. Partly due to bullying in school (often institutionalized—I still have a strong fear of authority figures), partly due to the aforementioned fishbowl—an introvert can only take so much exposure at a time, you know—and partly due to other factors, it turned me from an outgoing, adventurous teenager into a semi-recluse at far too young an age. It has waxed and waned over the years, sometimes allowing me to function almost normally with jobs, friends, girlfriends, and so forth, but at other times imposing a sort of social paralysis, forcing me into an uneasy state of solitude. In recent years, it has become a constant, chronic, crippling, and potentially terminal condition.
To be clear, this is not shyness.
I'm not at all shy when it comes to talking to cashiers or bank tellers—I can tell them exactly what I want and how I want it done—but I fear those encounters in advance: having to walk into the store or bank, being seen, being scrutinized. Many of my things are wearing out with age, and some are frankly falling to pieces, but I am unable to replace them because I'm afraid to go out shopping for new ones. I'm comfortable talking on the phone if I need to (i.e., the actual conversation), but I'm invariably afraid to pick it up and dial. My apartment is (as always) in a sorry state of disorder and disrepair, but I cannot bring myself to call in a maid or the maintenance goons to fix it up. Were such a person here right now, I'd probably be fine with the usual pleasantries (mortal embarrassment aside) and with expressing my needs, but in advance of the reality, I dread that knock on the door, the presence of another person in my space, the looking around, the judging, and the anticipated scorn.
Call it social anxiety or social phobia—and there may be a distinction even there, though the terms are often treated as synonymous—it's something different from and more formidable than garden-variety shyness. It's a demon in its own right, with its own bulging bag of tricks and lies, and it must be fought as such time and time again. You can beat it today, but it will be back tomorrow. It is possible to learn techniques that can help to manage the fear, but I'm not sure it's possible to completely and permanently conquer it. One certainly does not simply get over it.
