Damn you, social anxiety
Sometimes I really, really hate being as easily stressed out as I am. Well, actually, I always hate it.
Whenever I’m put into a new situation, I worry. No, I do more than that. I flip the fuck out. When I was younger and starting a new year at school, or even worse, a new year at a new school, I would worry about it for weeks. It would just be a little thing in the back of my mind at first. Then a couple of weeks from the first day of school, I’d start thinking about it more. Wishing time would slow down and I could just enjoy my freedom from stress. But instead, time would speed up, and suddenly it would be the day before school. I’d lie awake for hours that night, often crying, wishing I just wouldn’t wake up in the morning. But the morning would always come, of course, and I would feel almost flu-like symptoms, nausea, cramps, and so on, until the day was finally over and I had gotten back into the routine.
Today I start a new job. I haven’t worked in a little over a year due to various life-changing circumstances. This means I’m WAY out of any kind of routine. In fact, I’m pretty much out of the routine of seeing people in general, outside of my family, unless you include trips to the store or restaurants. I hate meeting new people — damn social anxiety — as new people contribute to most of my stress. I’m constantly in fear of them. I feel that new people will always judge me, make fun of me, and hurt me. They’ll always be smarter than me, richer than me, and know they’re better than me. So, as I start my new job in just a couple of hours and will be meeting new people in a new place, I’m flipping the fuck out.
I cried myself to sleep last night because I realized I didn’t have a shirt to wear to work today. All I’ll be doing is cleaning for an hour or two, but it doesn’t matter. I know that everyone else will be wearing the perfect clothes, doing a perfect job, while I will stand out like a sore, ugly thumb. I picture the scene in my mind over and over: I arrive, and everyone turns to look at me. I’m the last one to get there. Everyone just looks at me with contempt. They size me up, seeing how nervous and vulnerable I am, and they instantly turn their noses up at me. All of them are wearing clothes perfect for the job, bought from whatever fancy store they frequent that I could never afford. They all know each other already and view me as the new outsider. The hour goes by painfully slow and I never want to go back to that horrible place with those horrible people, but I know that I have to go back the next day anyway.
It’s really frustrating thinking this way. I don’t want to, but I can’t seem to help it. My heart speeds up with every minute that goes by, and I’m getting more and more nauseated. There’s nothing I can do about it, which makes it that much more intense. I feel like I’m backed into a corner. All over my new, minimum wage job. I really hope I get over this anxiety some day.