Why Does Social Anxiety Exist?
Social anxiety is the modern-day plague.
It’s everywhere. The classroom. The restaurant. The boardroom.
The number of people I have met that go on to mention they take anxiety-related medications is staggering.
Perhaps you, like me, have never taken any such drugs. But the feeling of anxiety surely has universal relatability. The same familiar nerves tense in the presence of others. The stomach churns in that all-familiar way.
I want to understand: What is really going on here?
Feelings are everything. Words are just words: They are nothing more than a medium to express feelings. We use terms like ‘social anxiety,’ but what is the feeling that engendered the creation of this term?
How you describe the feeling of anxiety may very well be different to the next person. But, loosely speaking, this anxiety is a form of mental pain, right? (Or, as a Buddhist might put it, a form of suffering.)
Your thoughts and consciousness are seemingly housed inside your brain, so perhaps you might describe the pain of this anxiety as some type of non-physical stab to the head. Incredible, is it not? Nothing is physically hurting you, but when your anxiety is triggered, it sort of feels that way…
Maybe you tense up. Maybe you start sweating. It really feels like something is poking you — hurting you — but you are unable to identify an assailant.
At least in physical war, the enemy’s location is somewhat known. You can sense the direction of the gunfire, and how you might avoid it.
But the warfare that takes place in your mind is not so giving. You move through the invisible battlefield blind, deaf, and gagged. You feel the pain — so you know something must be hurting you — but you cannot see it, hear it, or really even communicate what you’re experiencing.
It is notable that the anxiety we are talking about is often associated with things like delivering a public speech or musical performance. Indeed: picture the singer about to perform in front of thousands of others. Yes, their physical body is on a stage and being showcased to other physical bodies; but, more crucially, their ego — their sense of self — is the real thing under the limelight.
The stage performance is the perfect metaphor for capturing the dynamics of social anxiety. You feel those nerves getting shaky in front of others because this thing you call your Self — your ego — is about to be observed by others. These others will think about you, and form views about you.
Your entire world may very well be about to crash and burn.
In your mind, you have this idea of who you are. How important you are. How good you look. How much intelligence you have.
And, now that you’re in the company of others, you risk everything falling apart.
Use a certain word improperly and you’re now incompetent. Get a breakout of acne, and now your face doesn’t look as good as you thought it did.
We feel this sense of anxiety in the company of others because we are incredibly desperate and fragile. The ego is desperate to maintain the image it has constructed about itself; it is desperate to maintain the stories it has been telling itself about itself for years.
So of course you get nervous. Any time you step in front of someone, you play an incredibly risky game.
You have entered the stage.
Will you slip up?
Your mind runs a million computations in the space of a second. Every move, word, and expression must be meticulously executed to maintain the image.
People often report feeling tired and drained after social interactions. This is hardly surprising: You’ve not just been enjoying the company of others; you’ve been sweating out a performance.
Who is the assailant that’s been causing you all this mental pain?
It is the mind of the one who looks back at you from the mirror.
So long as you live through the vessel of the thing you call your Self — your ego — you remain a prisoner. And your punishment? You must constantly feel as though you are on that stage, performing.
And you bear the brunt of all the anxieties a performer necessarily feels…
