Pass this on to your extroverted friends
“I’m shy, reserved, stand-offish, whatever you want to call me. I’ve heard it all before.”
As we sat in a group, a familiar sense of dread washed over me. I felt unable to speak. My mouth was dry. My throat constricted.
It was my last day. My leaving drinks.
I should have been happy.
To make matters worse, my manager pointed it out. “You alright, Scott?” She asked for the whole group to hear. “You’ve barely said a word. Bet you wish you were home.”
She giggled and looked at me to respond.
“Yeah, just a little tired — that’s all.”
That was complete BS. My heart was racing. Someone sliced through the awkwardness, and the conversations continued. But I couldn’t enjoy the rest of the night. I was angry. Upset.
Here’s what I wish I’d said instead:
“You know what, I’ll tell you why. Sometimes, I experience anxiety in small groups. I’m not sure of the reason — it just happens. It’s like a crippling fear comes over me. What if I say the wrong thing? What if someone doesn’t like what I say? What if they think I’m boring? My head is so full of questions and worries that when I do open my mouth, it’s too late. Someone else has jumped in.
“I’ve been in countless situations where this has happened. When I haven’t said a word. And you know what? It’s okay. I’ll slink off and find someone to chat with. People may notice, but they never question it — not in front of me, at least.
“So do you know how you’ve made me feel right now? Terrible. Exposed. Like something is wrong with me.
“You’ve made me feel like a child on what is supposed to be a happy day — my leaving drinks.
“So f*ck you.’”
I’d grab my coat, and one of my colleagues would rush after me, admiring my courage. “I can’t believe you just said that! Good for you, lad!”
People would remember a man who stood up for what he believed in. Who spoke his truth. Not the bumbling idiot who said he was tired, just to make a conversation go away.
My girlfriend is helping me speak up in groups.
It’s not easy, and I’ve got 20+ years of conditioning to smash into a pulp. I’m not sure I’ll ever feel comfortable in social settings.
And part of me isn’t that fussed.
I like my own company. I’m not missing out. Sometimes I feel more alone in the presence of others than I do when I’m by myself. Author John D. MacDonald once defined a bore as, “Someone who deprives you of solitude without providing you with companionship.”
Nonetheless, here are some tips I’ve picked up over the years that have helped me in social settings. They might help you too.
Extroverts, please take note so you can help your quieter friends:
- Ease yourself into a group conversation by chipping in early. It could be agreeing with someone or building on their point. I keep it simple. If I wait too long, it’s easy to let my emotions get out of control.
- Be kind to yourself. If I experience anxiety, I know it will pass, and the chances are no one will notice.
- Give yourself a reward. If you have a social event you must go to, but you really don’t want to, give yourself a small treat afterwards. I’m a sucker for chocolate bars.
- Typing this reflection is cathartic. If someone makes you feel bad about yourself, write it down. It helps.
Just because you sometimes feel uncomfortable in group situations doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you. Enjoying your own company is a good thing. A superpower.
And despite everything I’ve said so far, I enjoy spending time with people. One-on-ones are my favourite. Sometimes, I even enjoy large groups. But here’s the difference: I’d rather be doing something in these groups.
Playing football? I’m down!
Wine tasting? Let’s do it!
Road trip around America? Hell yes!
Unfortunately, this superpower doesn’t benefit every situation. That’s life. And sometimes, people who drag down your vibe — whatever the reason. You won’t get on with everyone.
So be kind to yourself, let the feelings pass, and if appropriate, picture what it would be like to tell your manager to f*ck off.
You’ve got this.
“You cannot be lonely if you like the person you’re alone with.”
— Wayne Dyer