Face to Face with My Anxiety

I've been at a loss in terms of blog topics lately. I feel like I've covered just about every feeling I've had already. At least anything of interest, if you can call what I've written interesting. I could write about my social anxiety, but that's uncomfortable to feel. Writing about it seems even more uncomfortable. Some might say that's what makes it important to discuss. I say: BAH!

I had to confront my anxiety the other night. One of my best friends was in town, and I haven't seen her in about 7 years. It was the night before she was leaving to go home and she was going to be at a restaurant with a few of her other friends for drinks. I was faced with the dilemma of either walking into a restaurant filled with other people and sitting with her friends (GASP) or not seeing her at all. I was angry with her for not making time for me. She was aware of my problem ahead of time, and professed that she was going to spend time with me and catch up on all that was going on with me. I didn't care so much about that part of it, I just wanted to spend time with her. She never carved any time out for me, and I was hurt. I nearly used that as my excuse to avoid confronting my fears of being around people.

In the end, I didn't want to pass up the opportunity to at least see her. Time being what it was, and with all the things she had to do, I only got to see her for about half an hour. I also could not bring myself to go inside the restaurant. She graciously came outside to talk. Unfortunately, she brought her friends with her. She didn't realize that my anxiety extends to all people, not just crowded places. I have met these friends before, so they are not strangers. I can see why she thought it would be OK. Nevertheless, I started shaking and tearing up. Worse yet, they wanted to hug me, and one of the girls kissed me on the cheek. I feel terrible because I probably seemed very rude, or at least very strange. They realized something was wrong in some way, because they excused themselves and went back inside.

I had a nice visit with my friend. It was far too brief, but I'm glad I had at least a few moments with her. It was no different than some of our phone calls except for being able to see her in the flesh. At least it was something. I don't feel any great sense of accomplishment for going--I didn't really confront my anxiety and win. All I did really was get out of my car. I can't even say at least it's a start. It doesn't feel like it was anything.