I’m sure some of my posts so far have led you to believe I’m a wild party animal. Not so. For the past year or so, I’ve experienced mild social anxiety. I have my theories about why, but I’ll save ’em, because they bore me.
I spread rumors that I don’t like to be super-social, so friends (and I) make a huge deal when I hang out with them and that becomes the Thing. Then I go into a super-bubbly, I’m-really-actually-outgoing-and-fun routine, which later embarrasses me, which makes me vow to never go out in public again. I also worry that people who hang out with me aren’t having a great, blow-their-socks-off kind of time, so I monopolize the conversation or go for the easy laugh just to fill the silence. (Silence that doesn’t actually occur if I let things play their course.)
I realized this morning that my “social anxiety” is really a sin and that sin is pride. To think that everyone else’s good time depends on me being wildly entertaining is prideful. To think that I can fill any void in conversation or experience is prideful. You could even say to spend this much time thinking and worrying about my behavior is prideful. And to think I can fix any of this on my own is prideful.