Question:
Hello Blackhawk, Just wanted to say Welcome . Your letter touched a raw nerve here. You are a person with great courage !!! Please keep us posted Much love Anna – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – My apologies if this seems overlong. First of all, I have only learned recently of Social Phobia / Social Anxiety Disorder, though I have been experiencing it for 18 years. A few days ago I accidentally ended up on a web site discussing it, and was shocked to my core to find that there was an actual name for the condition that has been plaguing my life for years. I am a male, 28 years of age, and as far as I can recall, I began to develop SP when I was about ten. At least the earliest episode I recall was being in a fast food restaurant at ten years of age with relatives. They had forgotten to give me ketchup for my fries. I asked a relative for ketchup and she told me to go ask the cashier. I was too terrified of asking the cashier for ketchup to move from my seat. I just sat there looking at my food, not eating. After that things just seemed to get worse. By the time I reached junior high I walked with my head down, staring at the ground all the time, never daring to meet another person’s eyes. I had no friends, and if someone would speak to me, I would freeze. I spent my time alone or with my father, never socializing, and by the time I was in high school people had learned to pretty much leave me alone. I spent my lunch hours in whatever private corner I could find, usually reading, never talking, never socializing. I learned that I was only truly at peace when I was alone, either reading or wandering in the desert hills around my home town of Reno, Nevada. I began to look forward to my time by myself and truly dread going to school, where I was either ignored or teased. I began to look for and find any excuse I could to stay away from the school and its people, and went to extravagant lengths to avoid any situation where I would be around people, or worse, be forced to speak with them. By the eleventh grade I had dropped out of school and pretty much stayed inside my house. A year later, my father and I moved across the country and I went back to school, even graduating. I even ended up with a friend – a fellow named Paul with whom I had a lot in common, and who could tell that there was something wrong with me, and helped me to discuss it for the first time. Still, time did what time does, and school ended and we went our separate ways. Then it came time to get a job. That is where things got really bad. In school I was able to stay by myself and avoid contact and conversation. I found that conversation with people was absolutely necessary at a job, and I was unable to get out of it. In addition, the bosses were always looking over my shoulder, always judging me and my abilities. I began to fear going to work more than I had feared going to school. I began to call in. A lot. Two months after I got the job, I quit. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was immediately kicked out of my father’s house. My friend Paul took me in. But I had to get income to stay with him… So I got another job, but it was worse than the previous one. After a month or so I was fired for missing too many days. I shut myself up in the house. I stayed inside with the doors shut and the curtains drawn, generally in bed, and did so for months. I don’t think I spoke to anyone more than once or twice during that time. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me, I was afraid of getting kicked out and having nothing… but even that was better than working again. I was afraid to be seen, and when I was out I felt like everybody was looking at me, watching me. Every time I would hear somebody laughing, I thought for a second that they were laughing at me. If somebody said something critical of me, it would send me into a dark withdrawal for days. I knew that they were not laughing at me, that the criticism was meant positively, but knowing was not helping. Finally, I actually got lucky. A friend of Paul’s became familiar with my condition and took me to see a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, put on Welbutrin, and given some therapy that did diddly squat for me. But it did lift the depression enough for me to take a good, clear look around for a bit – I realized that I was at the bottom. I could sink no lower, and my choices were to either sit back and wait to die, or to make something happen. I still had my dreams, and, apparently, a shred of hope, because I forced myself out… I got a job. I was unable to take benevolent criticism from the bosses, anger from customers, or even questions from other employees, frequently had to hide that I was shaking, that I was terrified. But I had to keep going, and I did. At the end of the work day I had to go home, lock myself back in the house with the doors locked, the curtains pulled. I found that I could handle it, at least for a while, as long as I could go home afterward, as long as I could be by myself to recover. Still, sometimes it got bad. Sometimes I called in because I couldn’t stand to be around people that day. Slowly, over a few months, it got worse again, and I quit.. I kept to myself for a month or so and got another job. This one lasted for six months.. the next for four… then a full year.. and so on, each with a space between them. I learned to hide my emotions, so that people would not see my fear, my trembling, my tears. Unfortunately, in order to hide my fear, I also had to hide happiness, sadness, mirth, anger. People thought that I was unfriendly and stayed away. People commented negatively on my never smiling, even as they complimented me on never getting angry… If only they knew. Somewhere during this period I subconsciously found what turned out to be a functional coping tool….. Denial! (note: I said functional, not good.) I still kept to myself, had no friends, but I turned to the Sweet Lemons Syndrome, telling myself that I preferred to be alone, that I stayed inside because all my hobbies were inside ones, and there was no real reason to go out…. Telling myself that I quit jobs or was fired because of working conditions that I know now weren’t so bad… Telling myself that I was a just a very private person. Still, it was poor denial, as even I could see through it. I was not really sure what was wrong, still not sure just why I was afraid to call and order a pizza, or wouldn’t ever go back to a video store if I had a fine there. I eventually found I could do almost anything I had to, though, as long as I could be alone for a bit afterward. Then came the most horrible experience of my life. I received a court order, and, afraid to appear in court, stuck it away, hoping it would somehow go away, much as I had done with assorted invitations and bills I’d needed to call about over the years. It did not. I received a subpoena, one that I could not ignore. I went before the judge and completely froze, stammering instead of speaking. I was sentenced to a month in jail for failing to obey the first court order. I was in shock, handcuffed, led away. I was put into the county jail, in a 10-15 foot room with three other people. There was no darkness, lights on all the time, there and worse, there was no privacy. I could never be alone, not even for a second. Not when I went to sleep, not when I took a shower. Not even when I had to use the bathroom. I have a hard time even using a public bathroom, usually staying in the stall until everyone else leaves the room, and I had to use the bathroom in front of two dozen people without even a door. I was so terrified. I wanted to scream, but it would not have done any good. I wanted to run but could not. I hid under a blanket and I cried, and I shook, and I thought my mind would burst. I could not sleep, I could not eat. I ended up staying in there only twenty-one days, and in that time lost more than thirty pounds. When I got out I was afraid of my own shadow, and woke up with nightmares every night for months on end. Now we come (if you have been a patient reader) to the present. It has been several years since that last part happened. I eventually got over the nightmares and put it behind me. I have been married for a while, though, honestly, other than mutual love at first sight I cannot explain how… My last job I held for almost three years before quitting. I have become stronger, and am even able to converse with people at work, though I usually prepare a mental script ahead of time of what I need to say. Still today though, it is a constant strain to work or be around people, constantly concentrating, bending all my will to staying calm for eight hours, sneaking off for a walk by myself to catch my breath when possible, and if I am criticized, I still dwell on it for hours on end. When I am not at work, I still have a hard time. I cannot call strangers on the phone. When at the store I find an excuse to go elsewhere while my wife pays, as I worry what the cashier will think about what color shoes I bought, or what book I am buying. When pumping gas, I worry if the attendant is watching, judging me on how well I cut the gas off at the right point. If I go to buy something by myself I check my wallet repeatedly, mortified of not having enough at the cashier, and at the same time worrying what people will think when they see me checking my wallet so often. If someone is driving near me on the road, I worry about what they think of my driving, what kind of car I have, if my sunglasses make me look stupid. I wonder if the waitress will
… read more »
Response:
Hi Blackhawk, Welcome to ASAP! It is very clear you have struggled and suffered with anxiety for a long time. So glad you are going to see a psychiatrist. Hopefully he or she will start you on some good meds, including a benzo to lower your immediate anxiety. It will probably take some time for you to find the right combination of meds, but once you do, you will feel a lot better and more productive. Sending you hope and patience! Take care, Liz – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – My apologies if this seems overlong. First of all, I have only learned recently of Social Phobia / Social Anxiety Disorder, though I have been experiencing it for 18 years. A few days ago I accidentally ended up on a web site discussing it, and was shocked to my core to find that there was an actual name for the condition that has been plaguing my life for years. I am a male, 28 years of age, and as far as I can recall, I began to develop SP when I was about ten. At least the earliest episode I recall was being in a fast food restaurant at ten years of age with relatives. They had forgotten to give me ketchup for my fries. I asked a relative for ketchup and she told me to go ask the cashier. I was too terrified of asking the cashier for ketchup to move from my seat. I just sat there looking at my food, not eating. After that things just seemed to get worse. By the time I reached junior high I walked with my head down, staring at the ground all the time, never daring to meet another person’s eyes. I had no friends, and if someone would speak to me, I would freeze. I spent my time alone or with my father, never socializing, and by the time I was in high school people had learned to pretty much leave me alone. I spent my lunch hours in whatever private corner I could find, usually reading, never talking, never socializing. I learned that I was only truly at peace when I was alone, either reading or wandering in the desert hills around my home town of Reno, Nevada. I began to look forward to my time by myself and truly dread going to school, where I was either ignored or teased. I began to look for and find any excuse I could to stay away from the school and its people, and went to extravagant lengths to avoid any situation where I would be around people, or worse, be forced to speak with them. By the eleventh grade I had dropped out of school and pretty much stayed inside my house. A year later, my father and I moved across the country and I went back to school, even graduating. I even ended up with a friend – a fellow named Paul with whom I had a lot in common, and who could tell that there was something wrong with me, and helped me to discuss it for the first time. Still, time did what time does, and school ended and we went our separate ways. Then it came time to get a job. That is where things got really bad. In school I was able to stay by myself and avoid contact and conversation. I found that conversation with people was absolutely necessary at a job, and I was unable to get out of it. In addition, the bosses were always looking over my shoulder, always judging me and my abilities. I began to fear going to work more than I had feared going to school. I began to call in. A lot. Two months after I got the job, I quit. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was immediately kicked out of my father’s house. My friend Paul took me in. But I had to get income to stay with him… So I got another job, but it was worse than the previous one. After a month or so I was fired for missing too many days. I shut myself up in the house. I stayed inside with the doors shut and the curtains drawn, generally in bed, and did so for months. I don’t think I spoke to anyone more than once or twice during that time. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me, I was afraid of getting kicked out and having nothing… but even that was better than working again. I was afraid to be seen, and when I was out I felt like everybody was looking at me, watching me. Every time I would hear somebody laughing, I thought for a second that they were laughing at me. If somebody said something critical of me, it would send me into a dark withdrawal for days. I knew that they were not laughing at me, that the criticism was meant positively, but knowing was not helping. Finally, I actually got lucky. A friend of Paul’s became familiar with my condition and took me to see a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, put on Welbutrin, and given some therapy that did diddly squat for me. But it did lift the depression enough for me to take a good, clear look around for a bit – I realized that I was at the bottom. I could sink no lower, and my choices were to either sit back and wait to die, or to make something happen. I still had my dreams, and, apparently, a shred of hope, because I forced myself out… I got a job. I was unable to take benevolent criticism from the bosses, anger from customers, or even questions from other employees, frequently had to hide that I was shaking, that I was terrified. But I had to keep going, and I did. At the end of the work day I had to go home, lock myself back in the house with the doors locked, the curtains pulled. I found that I could handle it, at least for a while, as long as I could go home afterward, as long as I could be by myself to recover. Still, sometimes it got bad. Sometimes I called in because I couldn’t stand to be around people that day. Slowly, over a few months, it got worse again, and I quit.. I kept to myself for a month or so and got another job. This one lasted for six months.. the next for four… then a full year.. and so on, each with a space between them. I learned to hide my emotions, so that people would not see my fear, my trembling, my tears. Unfortunately, in order to hide my fear, I also had to hide happiness, sadness, mirth, anger. People thought that I was unfriendly and stayed away. People commented negatively on my never smiling, even as they complimented me on never getting angry… If only they knew. Somewhere during this period I subconsciously found what turned out to be a functional coping tool….. Denial! (note: I said functional, not good.) I still kept to myself, had no friends, but I turned to the Sweet Lemons Syndrome, telling myself that I preferred to be alone, that I stayed inside because all my hobbies were inside ones, and there was no real reason to go out…. Telling myself that I quit jobs or was fired because of working conditions that I know now weren’t so bad… Telling myself that I was a just a very private person. Still, it was poor denial, as even I could see through it. I was not really sure what was wrong, still not sure just why I was afraid to call and order a pizza, or wouldn’t ever go back to a video store if I had a fine there. I eventually found I could do almost anything I had to, though, as long as I could be alone for a bit afterward. Then came the most horrible experience of my life. I received a court order, and, afraid to appear in court, stuck it away, hoping it would somehow go away, much as I had done with assorted invitations and bills I’d needed to call about over the years. It did not. I received a subpoena, one that I could not ignore. I went before the judge and completely froze, stammering instead of speaking. I was sentenced to a month in jail for failing to obey the first court order. I was in shock, handcuffed, led away. I was put into the county jail, in a 10-15 foot room with three other people. There was no darkness, lights on all the time, there and worse, there was no privacy. I could never be alone, not even for a second. Not when I went to sleep, not when I took a shower. Not even when I had to use the bathroom. I have a hard time even using a public bathroom, usually staying in the stall until everyone else leaves the room, and I had to use the bathroom in front of two dozen people without even a door. I was so terrified. I wanted to scream, but it would not have done any good. I wanted to run but could not. I hid under a blanket and I cried, and I shook, and I thought my mind would burst. I could not sleep, I could not eat. I ended up staying in there only twenty-one days, and in that time lost more than thirty pounds. When I got out I was afraid of my own shadow, and woke up with nightmares every night for months on end. Now we come (if you have been a patient reader) to the present. It has been several years since that last part happened. I eventually got over the nightmares and put it behind me. I have been married for a while, though, honestly, other than mutual love at first sight I cannot explain how… My last job I held for almost three years before quitting. I have become stronger, and am even able to converse with people at work, though I usually prepare a mental script ahead of time of what I need to say. Still today though, it is a constant strain to work or be around people, constantly concentrating, bending all my will to staying calm for eight hours, sneaking off for a walk by myself to catch my breath when possible, and if I am criticized, I still dwell on it for hours on end. When I am not at work, I still have a hard time. I cannot call strangers on the phone. When at the store I find an excuse to go elsewhere while my wife pays, as I worry what the cashier will think about what color shoes I bought, or what book I am
… read more »
Response:
Hi, Blackhawk, Wow you have been through so much but I am happy you have made the effort to hang in there through all of the rough times. The best advice I have is to go to the doctor’s appt and talk with him. There are many meds available for pd, ptsd, etc. Work with your pdoc and maybe even get into some therapy. There is help but it takes some work on your part also. Try to explain to your wife what is going on and maybe even she could go to the appt with you. she may understand more if she hears information from a pdoc. Please keep us posted. smiles, elise
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Dear Blackhawk…your post moved me very much. You have suffered alot. I am glad to see that you do have some hope, now that you have found a sort of "name" for what is happening with you, and now that you know that this is a well known disorder. There is help available. I do hope your new psychiatrist will prescribe a benzodiazepine drug (valium, xanax, ativan) that might help give you some immediate relief so that you can tackle the ongoing issues. Remember that if you are prescribed antidepressants such as SSRI’s (prozac, paxil, zoloft) that many anxiety sufferers need to wean on to them more slowly than non-anxiety sufferers. I do relate to your fears, especially that part about having to work. My greatest fear, and yet the greatest thing that keeps me going, is knowing that my daughter has no one else but me to depend on. I have to work. And that causes me additional anxiety – when my anxiety is up, it increases when I get myself into a state – "omigod, i will lose my job and we will be homeless". I do hope your wife will try to be understanding and support you, although I can understand her fears with a baby on the way. I would advise you to go to your pdoc prepared with questions. Good luck. There is hope. My apologies if this seems overlong. First of all, I have only learned recently of Social Phobia / Social Anxiety Disorder, though I have been experiencing it for 18 years. A few days ago I accidentally ended up on a web site discussing it, and was shocked to my core to find that there was an actual name for the condition that has been plaguing my life for years. I am a male, 28 years of age, and as far as I can recall, I began to develop SP when I was about ten. At least the earliest episode I recall was being in a fast food restaurant at ten years of age with relatives. They had forgotten to give me ketchup for my fries. I asked a relative for ketchup and she told me to go ask the cashier. I was too terrified of asking the cashier for ketchup to move from my seat. I just sat there looking at my food, not eating. After that things just seemed to get worse. By the time I reached junior high I walked with my head down, staring at the ground all the time, never daring to meet another person’s eyes. I had no friends, and if someone would speak to me, I would freeze. I spent my time alone or with my father, never socializing, and by the time I was in high school people had learned to pretty much leave me alone. I spent my lunch hours in whatever private corner I could find, usually reading, never talking, never socializing. I learned that I was only truly at peace when I was alone, either reading or wandering in the desert hills around my home town of Reno, Nevada. I began to look forward to my time by myself and truly dread going to school, where I was either ignored or teased. I began to look for and find any excuse I could to stay away from the school and its people, and went to extravagant lengths to avoid any situation where I would be around people, or worse, be forced to speak with them. By the eleventh grade I had dropped out of school and pretty much stayed inside my house. A year later, my father and I moved across the country and I went back to school, even graduating. I even ended up with a friend – a fellow named Paul with whom I had a lot in common, and who could tell that there was something wrong with me, and helped me to discuss it for the first time. Still, time did what time does, and school ended and we went our separate ways. Then it came time to get a job. That is where things got really bad. In school I was able to stay by myself and avoid contact and conversation. I found that conversation with people was absolutely necessary at a job, and I was unable to get out of it. In addition, the bosses were always looking over my shoulder, always judging me and my abilities. I began to fear going to work more than I had feared going to school. I began to call in. A lot. Two months after I got the job, I quit. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was immediately kicked out of my father’s house. My friend Paul took me in. But I had to get income to stay with him… So I got another job, but it was worse than the previous one. After a month or so I was fired for missing too many days. I shut myself up in the house. I stayed inside with the doors shut and the curtains drawn, generally in bed, and did so for months. I don’t think I spoke to anyone more than once or twice during that time. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me, I was afraid of getting kicked out and having nothing… but even that was better than working again. I was afraid to be seen, and when I was out I felt like everybody was looking at me, watching me. Every time I would hear somebody laughing, I thought for a second that they were laughing at me. If somebody said something critical of me, it would send me into a dark withdrawal for days. I knew that they were not laughing at me, that the criticism was meant positively, but knowing was not helping. Finally, I actually got lucky. A friend of Paul’s became familiar with my condition and took me to see a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, put on Welbutrin, and given some therapy that did diddly squat for me. But it did lift the depression enough for me to take a good, clear look around for a bit – I realized that I was at the bottom. I could sink no lower, and my choices were to either sit back and wait to die, or to make something happen. I still had my dreams, and, apparently, a shred of hope, because I forced myself out… I got a job. I was unable to take benevolent criticism from the bosses, anger from customers, or even questions from other employees, frequently had to hide that I was shaking, that I was terrified. But I had to keep going, and I did. At the end of the work day I had to go home, lock myself back in the house with the doors locked, the curtains pulled. I found that I could handle it, at least for a while, as long as I could go home afterward, as long as I could be by myself to recover. Still, sometimes it got bad. Sometimes I called in because I couldn’t stand to be around people that day. Slowly, over a few months, it got worse again, and I quit.. I kept to myself for a month or so and got another job. This one lasted for six months.. the next for four… then a full year.. and so on, each with a space between them. I learned to hide my emotions, so that people would not see my fear, my trembling, my tears. Unfortunately, in order to hide my fear, I also had to hide happiness, sadness, mirth, anger. People thought that I was unfriendly and stayed away. People commented negatively on my never smiling, even as they complimented me on never getting angry… If only they knew. Somewhere during this period I subconsciously found what turned out to be a functional coping tool….. Denial! (note: I said functional, not good.) I still kept to myself, had no friends, but I turned to the Sweet Lemons Syndrome, telling myself that I preferred to be alone, that I stayed inside because all my hobbies were inside ones, and there was no real reason to go out…. Telling myself that I quit jobs or was fired because of working conditions that I know now weren’t so bad… Telling myself that I was a just a very private person. Still, it was poor denial, as even I could see through it. I was not really sure what was wrong, still not sure just why I was afraid to call and order a pizza, or wouldn’t ever go back to a video store if I had a fine there. I eventually found I could do almost anything I had to, though, as long as I could be alone for a bit afterward. Then came the most horrible experience of my life. I received a court order, and, afraid to appear in court, stuck it away, hoping it would somehow go away, much as I had done with assorted invitations and bills I’d needed to call about over the years. It did not. I received a subpoena, one that I could not ignore. I went before the judge and completely froze, stammering instead of speaking. I was sentenced to a month in jail for failing to obey the first court order. I was in shock, handcuffed, led away. I was put into the county jail, in a 10-15 foot room with three other people. There was no darkness, lights on all the time, there and worse, there was no privacy. I could never be alone, not even for a second. Not when I went to sleep, not when I took a shower. Not even when I had to use the bathroom. I have a hard time even using a public bathroom, usually staying in the stall until everyone else leaves the room, and I had to use the bathroom in front of two dozen people without even a door. I was so terrified. I wanted to scream, but it would not have done any good. I wanted to run but could not. I hid under a blanket and I cried, and I shook, and I
… read more »
Response:
Dear Blackhawk…your post moved me very much. You have suffered alot. I am glad to see that you do have some hope, now that you have found a sort of "name" for what is happening with you, and now that you know that this is a well known disorder. There is help available. I do hope your new psychiatrist will prescribe a benzodiazepine drug (valium, xanax, ativan) that might help give you some immediate relief so that you can tackle the ongoing issues. Remember that if you are prescribed antidepressants such as SSRI’s (prozac, paxil, zoloft) that many anxiety sufferers need to wean on to them more slowly than non-anxiety sufferers. I do relate to your fears, especially that part about having to work. My greatest fear, and yet the greatest thing that keeps me going, is knowing that my daughter has no one else but me to depend on. I have to work. And that causes me additional anxiety – when my anxiety is up, it increases when I get myself into a state – "omigod, i will lose my job and we will be homeless". I do hope your wife will try to be understanding and support you, although I can understand her fears with a baby on the way. I would advise you to go to your pdoc prepared with questions. Good luck. There is hope. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -My apologies if this seems overlong. First of all, I have only learned recently of Social Phobia / Social Anxiety Disorder, though I have been experiencing it for 18 years. A few days ago I accidentally ended up on a web site discussing it, and was shocked to my core to find that there was an actual name for the condition that has been plaguing my life for years. I am a male, 28 years of age, and as far as I can recall, I began to develop SP when I was about ten. At least the earliest episode I recall was being in a fast food restaurant at ten years of age with relatives. They had forgotten to give me ketchup for my fries. I asked a relative for ketchup and she told me to go ask the cashier. I was too terrified of asking the cashier for ketchup to move from my seat. I just sat there looking at my food, not eating. After that things just seemed to get worse. By the time I reached junior high I walked with my head down, staring at the ground all the time, never daring to meet another person’s eyes. I had no friends, and if someone would speak to me, I would freeze. I spent my time alone or with my father, never socializing, and by the time I was in high school people had learned to pretty much leave me alone. I spent my lunch hours in whatever private corner I could find, usually reading, never talking, never socializing. I learned that I was only truly at peace when I was alone, either reading or wandering in the desert hills around my home town of Reno, Nevada. I began to look forward to my time by myself and truly dread going to school, where I was either ignored or teased. I began to look for and find any excuse I could to stay away from the school and its people, and went to extravagant lengths to avoid any situation where I would be around people, or worse, be forced to speak with them. By the eleventh grade I had dropped out of school and pretty much stayed inside my house. A year later, my father and I moved across the country and I went back to school, even graduating. I even ended up with a friend – a fellow named Paul with whom I had a lot in common, and who could tell that there was something wrong with me, and helped me to discuss it for the first time. Still, time did what time does, and school ended and we went our separate ways. Then it came time to get a job. That is where things got really bad. In school I was able to stay by myself and avoid contact and conversation. I found that conversation with people was absolutely necessary at a job, and I was unable to get out of it. In addition, the bosses were always looking over my shoulder, always judging me and my abilities. I began to fear going to work more than I had feared going to school. I began to call in. A lot. Two months after I got the job, I quit. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was immediately kicked out of my father’s house. My friend Paul took me in. But I had to get income to stay with him… So I got another job, but it was worse than the previous one. After a month or so I was fired for missing too many days. I shut myself up in the house. I stayed inside with the doors shut and the curtains drawn, generally in bed, and did so for months. I don’t think I spoke to anyone more than once or twice during that time. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me, I was afraid of getting kicked out and having nothing… but even that was better than working again. I was afraid to be seen, and when I was out I felt like everybody was looking at me, watching me. Every time I would hear somebody laughing, I thought for a second that they were laughing at me. If somebody said something critical of me, it would send me into a dark withdrawal for days. I knew that they were not laughing at me, that the criticism was meant positively, but knowing was not helping. Finally, I actually got lucky. A friend of Paul’s became familiar with my condition and took me to see a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, put on Welbutrin, and given some therapy that did diddly squat for me. But it did lift the depression enough for me to take a good, clear look around for a bit – I realized that I was at the bottom. I could sink no lower, and my choices were to either sit back and wait to die, or to make something happen. I still had my dreams, and, apparently, a shred of hope, because I forced myself out… I got a job. I was unable to take benevolent criticism from the bosses, anger from customers, or even questions from other employees, frequently had to hide that I was shaking, that I was terrified. But I had to keep going, and I did. At the end of the work day I had to go home, lock myself back in the house with the doors locked, the curtains pulled. I found that I could handle it, at least for a while, as long as I could go home afterward, as long as I could be by myself to recover. Still, sometimes it got bad. Sometimes I called in because I couldn’t stand to be around people that day. Slowly, over a few months, it got worse again, and I quit.. I kept to myself for a month or so and got another job. This one lasted for six months.. the next for four… then a full year.. and so on, each with a space between them. I learned to hide my emotions, so that people would not see my fear, my trembling, my tears. Unfortunately, in order to hide my fear, I also had to hide happiness, sadness, mirth, anger. People thought that I was unfriendly and stayed away. People commented negatively on my never smiling, even as they complimented me on never getting angry… If only they knew. Somewhere during this period I subconsciously found what turned out to be a functional coping tool….. Denial! (note: I said functional, not good.) I still kept to myself, had no friends, but I turned to the Sweet Lemons Syndrome, telling myself that I preferred to be alone, that I stayed inside because all my hobbies were inside ones, and there was no real reason to go out…. Telling myself that I quit jobs or was fired because of working conditions that I know now weren’t so bad… Telling myself that I was a just a very private person. Still, it was poor denial, as even I could see through it. I was not really sure what was wrong, still not sure just why I was afraid to call and order a pizza, or wouldn’t ever go back to a video store if I had a fine there. I eventually found I could do almost anything I had to, though, as long as I could be alone for a bit afterward. Then came the most horrible experience of my life. I received a court order, and, afraid to appear in court, stuck it away, hoping it would somehow go away, much as I had done with assorted invitations and bills I’d needed to call about over the years. It did not. I received a subpoena, one that I could not ignore. I went before the judge and completely froze, stammering instead of speaking. I was sentenced to a month in jail for failing to obey the first court order. I was in shock, handcuffed, led away. I was put into the county jail, in a 10-15 foot room with three other people. There was no darkness, lights on all the time, there and worse, there was no privacy. I could never be alone, not even for a second. Not when I went to sleep, not when I took a shower. Not even when I had to use the bathroom. I have a hard time even using a public bathroom, usually staying in the stall until everyone else leaves the room, and I had to use the bathroom in front of two dozen people without even a door. I was so terrified. I wanted to scream, but it would not have done any good. I wanted to run but could not. I hid under a blanket and I cried, and I shook, and I thought my mind would burst. I could not sleep, I could not eat. I ended up staying in there only twenty-one days, and in that time lost more than thirty pounds. When I got out I was afraid of my own shadow, and woke up with nightmares every night for months on end. Now we come (if you have been a patient reader) to the present. It has been several years since that last part happened. I eventually got over the nightmares and put it behind me. I have been married for a while, though, honestly, other than mutual love at first sight I cannot explain how… My last job I held for almost three years before quitting. I have become stronger, and am even able to converse with people at work, though I usually prepare a mental script ahead of time of what I need to say. Still today though, it is a constant strain to work or be around people, constantly concentrating, bending all my will to staying calm for eight hours,
… read more »
Response:
My apologies if this seems overlong. First of all, I have only learned recently of Social Phobia / Social Anxiety Disorder, though I have been experiencing it for 18 years. A few days ago I accidentally ended up on a web site discussing it, and was shocked to my core to find that there was an actual name for the condition that has been plaguing my life for years. I am a male, 28 years of age, and as far as I can recall, I began to develop SP when I was about ten. At least the earliest episode I recall was being in a fast food restaurant at ten years of age with relatives. They had forgotten to give me ketchup for my fries. I asked a relative for ketchup and she told me to go ask the cashier. I was too terrified of asking the cashier for ketchup to move from my seat. I just sat there looking at my food, not eating. After that things just seemed to get worse. By the time I reached junior high I walked with my head down, staring at the ground all the time, never daring to meet another person’s eyes. I had no friends, and if someone would speak to me, I would freeze. I spent my time alone or with my father, never socializing, and by the time I was in high school people had learned to pretty much leave me alone. I spent my lunch hours in whatever private corner I could find, usually reading, never talking, never socializing. I learned that I was only truly at peace when I was alone, either reading or wandering in the desert hills around my home town of Reno, Nevada. I began to look forward to my time by myself and truly dread going to school, where I was either ignored or teased. I began to look for and find any excuse I could to stay away from the school and its people, and went to extravagant lengths to avoid any situation where I would be around people, or worse, be forced to speak with them. By the eleventh grade I had dropped out of school and pretty much stayed inside my house. A year later, my father and I moved across the country and I went back to school, even graduating. I even ended up with a friend – a fellow named Paul with whom I had a lot in common, and who could tell that there was something wrong with me, and helped me to discuss it for the first time. Still, time did what time does, and school ended and we went our separate ways. Then it came time to get a job. That is where things got really bad. In school I was able to stay by myself and avoid contact and conversation. I found that conversation with people was absolutely necessary at a job, and I was unable to get out of it. In addition, the bosses were always looking over my shoulder, always judging me and my abilities. I began to fear going to work more than I had feared going to school. I began to call in. A lot. Two months after I got the job, I quit. I just couldn’t take it anymore. I was immediately kicked out of my father’s house. My friend Paul took me in. But I had to get income to stay with him… So I got another job, but it was worse than the previous one. After a month or so I was fired for missing too many days. I shut myself up in the house. I stayed inside with the doors shut and the curtains drawn, generally in bed, and did so for months. I don’t think I spoke to anyone more than once or twice during that time. I was afraid of what my friend would think of me, I was afraid of getting kicked out and having nothing… but even that was better than working again. I was afraid to be seen, and when I was out I felt like everybody was looking at me, watching me. Every time I would hear somebody laughing, I thought for a second that they were laughing at me. If somebody said something critical of me, it would send me into a dark withdrawal for days. I knew that they were not laughing at me, that the criticism was meant positively, but knowing was not helping. Finally, I actually got lucky. A friend of Paul’s became familiar with my condition and took me to see a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with Major Depression, put on Welbutrin, and given some therapy that did diddly squat for me. But it did lift the depression enough for me to take a good, clear look around for a bit – I realized that I was at the bottom. I could sink no lower, and my choices were to either sit back and wait to die, or to make something happen. I still had my dreams, and, apparently, a shred of hope, because I forced myself out… I got a job. I was unable to take benevolent criticism from the bosses, anger from customers, or even questions from other employees, frequently had to hide that I was shaking, that I was terrified. But I had to keep going, and I did. At the end of the work day I had to go home, lock myself back in the house with the doors locked, the curtains pulled. I found that I could handle it, at least for a while, as long as I could go home afterward, as long as I could be by myself to recover. Still, sometimes it got bad. Sometimes I called in because I couldn’t stand to be around people that day. Slowly, over a few months, it got worse again, and I quit.. I kept to myself for a month or so and got another job. This one lasted for six months.. the next for four… then a full year.. and so on, each with a space between them. I learned to hide my emotions, so that people would not see my fear, my trembling, my tears. Unfortunately, in order to hide my fear, I also had to hide happiness, sadness, mirth, anger. People thought that I was unfriendly and stayed away. People commented negatively on my never smiling, even as they complimented me on never getting angry… If only they knew. Somewhere during this period I subconsciously found what turned out to be a functional coping tool….. Denial! (note: I said functional, not good.) I still kept to myself, had no friends, but I turned to the Sweet Lemons Syndrome, telling myself that I preferred to be alone, that I stayed inside because all my hobbies were inside ones, and there was no real reason to go out…. Telling myself that I quit jobs or was fired because of working conditions that I know now weren’t so bad… Telling myself that I was a just a very private person. Still, it was poor denial, as even I could see through it. I was not really sure what was wrong, still not sure just why I was afraid to call and order a pizza, or wouldn’t ever go back to a video store if I had a fine there. I eventually found I could do almost anything I had to, though, as long as I could be alone for a bit afterward. Then came the most horrible experience of my life. I received a court order, and, afraid to appear in court, stuck it away, hoping it would somehow go away, much as I had done with assorted invitations and bills I’d needed to call about over the years. It did not. I received a subpoena, one that I could not ignore. I went before the judge and completely froze, stammering instead of speaking. I was sentenced to a month in jail for failing to obey the first court order. I was in shock, handcuffed, led away. I was put into the county jail, in a 10-15 foot room with three other people. There was no darkness, lights on all the time, there and worse, there was no privacy. I could never be alone, not even for a second. Not when I went to sleep, not when I took a shower. Not even when I had to use the bathroom. I have a hard time even using a public bathroom, usually staying in the stall until everyone else leaves the room, and I had to use the bathroom in front of two dozen people without even a door. I was so terrified. I wanted to scream, but it would not have done any good. I wanted to run but could not. I hid under a blanket and I cried, and I shook, and I thought my mind would burst. I could not sleep, I could not eat. I ended up staying in there only twenty-one days, and in that time lost more than thirty pounds. When I got out I was afraid of my own shadow, and woke up with nightmares every night for months on end. Now we come (if you have been a patient reader) to the present. It has been several years since that last part happened. I eventually got over the nightmares and put it behind me. I have been married for a while, though, honestly, other than mutual love at first sight I cannot explain how… My last job I held for almost three years before quitting. I have become stronger, and am even able to converse with people at work, though I usually prepare a mental script ahead of time of what I need to say. Still today though, it is a constant strain to work or be around people, constantly concentrating, bending all my will to staying calm for eight hours, sneaking off for a walk by myself to catch my breath when possible, and if I am criticized, I still dwell on it for hours on end. When I am not at work, I still have a hard time. I cannot call strangers on the phone. When at the store I find an excuse to go elsewhere while my wife pays, as I worry what the cashier will think about what color shoes I bought, or what book I am buying. When pumping gas, I worry if the attendant is watching, judging me on how well I cut the gas off at the right point. If I go to buy something by myself I check my wallet repeatedly, mortified of not having enough at the cashier, and at the same time worrying what people will think when they see me checking my wallet so often. If someone is driving near me on the road, I worry about what they think of my driving, what kind of car I have, if my sunglasses make me look stupid. I wonder if the waitress will be upset that I didn’t leave a big enough tip… I am better, but not Better, I think. Now to the current problem, and to the reason I have written all of this (other than to get it off of my chest, which helps) A while back, my wife and I decided to have a child. At the time were living again in Reno, and we decided it was not a good place to raise a child. A friend of my wife’s family in the Midwest told her that she could get me a job in the maximum security … read more »
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