This evening I went out to a movie with a large crew of folks from where I work and some who used to work there. It's a gathering of really amazing people that happens often for big crazy movies.
We were watching The Lego Movie and it was better than it had any right to be. I really love watching movies like that with that group of people, because they give me permission to simply enjoy the movie as I might have had I seen it when I was 11. Just amazed by all the wonder that they can create.
And then the movie ended and we gathered outside the theater to decide what to do next. As that group often does, they followed the default plan of heading to a Bar named North as it's close to where a large percentage of them live in SE Portland area. It's a bar I like a great deal. And in that moment I agreed that I would go with them. I had driven myself and so I headed for my little Red Hyundai hatchback named Ron Weasley to follow along.
But when I climbed into the driver seat, I froze. This overwhelming fear came over me and I couldn't decide what to do. The group that I was with is a good group of people. They are welcoming, honest, realistic, kind and generally all around good people. So when I explain this fear know that I truly am revealing my own neuroses. I got scared that I would have to participate in conversation.
I'm not terrible in conversation, but neither is it a natural ability for me. Conversation is a learned skill of which I am all too self-aware. Which hinders a real immersion in the experience. I spend so much time thinking about how I should respond, what that reaction should look like, what question I should ask next, if I am speaking or telling a story in a way that is eliciting the ideal reaction from my audience. This doesn't happen with people I am really comfortable with or if somehow I have figured out a way to shut this part of my brain off, but it does happen often.
The reason I am big, big fan of parties or gatherings that include dance or karaoke is that I can lose myself in those things so that I don't have to converse with people for more than a surface level interaction. When we talk with someone, even in small talk we seek a connection. That connection makes us vulnerable. This is a good thing. This is healthy. And I am afraid of it. So at such gatherings I can sing a song or dance, because somehow those actions feel so much more natural to me. I'm not worried about how those actions will stand up during interaction with someone else.
Is it weird that I feel like the language I use to try and be as clear as possible feels so robotic?
So I froze. I sat in my car for a good 15-20 minutes just trying to figure out what I should do. The thought of sitting in conversation with these awesome people scared the shit out of me. I battled back and forth in my head. Should I go and just brave that vulnerability? Or just accept this overwhelming feeling and ride it out. And here I am riding out the anxiety.
The problem is decisions like this isolate me from others. It keeps me from building larger networks of friends that I trust to have real conversations with. The only way to build a sense of comfort with new people is to put yourself out there and test the boundaries. Yeah, sometimes I'm going to get hurt, sometimes it's not going to go well and I'm going to feel like I have no safety net. But sometimes, just sometimes, I'm going to find that I can really express myself, without being frozen by fear.
The Basilisk is only defeated when you face it head on and bare yourself. It's a painful process, but it is in fact worth it. So chalk this evening up as a point against me on the scoreboard. You win this time Basilisk. But next time...next time...
No comments:
Post a Comment