Wednesday, October 12, 2011

Troubled Relations

Man, I hate the post I did yesterday.
Especially the title.
Putting (sorry) after a really stupid and obvious joke doesn't make it right.

Anyways, I have crippling social anxiety.

If there a social event coming up, I dissolve into dread.

If there is awkwardness anywhere in a room, I sense it immediately and feel fully responsible.
 When I could drink, it was better

But now, it's not good.

In social situations, I quietly build internal pressure while the people around me talk.

Think of something relevant! Think of something witty! Think of something empathic! Stop being a fat mute! Stop being a fat mute!

When words finally burst forth, they are usually manic, irrelevant, and sometimes inappropriate.

Worst of all, there is no sense of relief afterwards. 

Just stabbing pangs of embarrassment and self-loathing.

All I can do is run and hide in my blanket fort.


  1. Yes, yes. I know this feeling all too well. What is up with all the best bloggers I know having social anxiety? Sometimes I feel like my blog is me saying all the stuff I would be saying in real life if I were calm, cool, and collected and could let my wit escape from my mouth without also accidentally letting large paragraphs of awkward inappropriateness leak from my brain and make people feel all weird and violated and like I just insulted their sensibilities.

    Actually, what am I saying? My blog is exactly like that too. I hate when denial gets ruptured. *runs and hides in blanket fort*

  2. Your interjections don't seem strange or out of place to me at all. That probably indicates a problem in both of us, as opposed to the reciprocal.

  3. Should I feel bad that that made me cry with laughter at your social ineptitude.

    Ah well too late.

  4. The fact that I found the hair in your meatball sub disturbing yet wasn't phased by the period on the computer, is proof that I should not be allowed out in public.

    Personally, I think that the people who DON'T suffer from occasional stabbing pangs of embarrassment and self-loathing are more socially-inept than the rest of us.

    Plus, they're boring.

  5. Glad I'm not the only one whose a social offense meant!

  6. When I try to explain to people how nervous everything makes me, they always tilt their head to the side like a dog does when you make a funny noise and tell me to drink more chanomile tea, "or something".
    I should just show them your website for a clearer image.

    Xanax and liquor make the world less horrible. Bad advice from a fellow social cripple,

  7. the Weed-'best blogger'? Oh the weed, I hardly know you (man-blush). I'll have to check out your blog.
    Jrose-whoah you have problems.
    dirtycowgirl-you are heartless.
    justmaking and Kelly-plus something really witty. Darn it, I got nothing.
    lily-you should be ashamed of yourself-offense deeply taken!
    AllenTesch-do you wear an umbrella hat?
    Anonymous-who are you, anyway? And yes, please show everyone you know my website. If I had a Xanax and liquor cocktail these days, they would find me stuck in a tunnel slide at a Mcdonald's playland drawing buffalo on the wall with pigments made from Fish Filet sauce and my vomit.

  8. Who me? One of your followers who is omitting her google-nametag for the sake of protecting her (who am i kidding) image in case my comment is seen by acquaintances or (again, who am i kidding) possible employers.
    Oh, how the paranoia runs deep... :D

    Anyway, there's nothing wrong with desecrating children's playgrounds on a Xanabooze binge. You're basically describing my Friday nights right there, sir.


  9. Blanket forts rule.
    Oh by the way- you really shouldn't drink hand sanitizer because it makes your pee burn.

  10. krouth- burning pee lets me know I'm still alive.

  11. I don't know how I got here, but here I am. I'd draw a picture of me with my sides splitting and entrails falling all over the floor, but I can't draw.

  12. elizabeth- Hi! Because I don't want to see that, I'm glad you can't draw.

  13. OMG dude... you're killin' me. Truest effing story ever.

  14. we are kindred spirits, my friend...