Phobic Pride

The problem is silence. As long as none of you have the courage to do like me, to say publicly: “My name is Mario Rossi, I’m social phobic and there are things I can’t do in life, but I’m not stupid, quite the opposite, I have a lot of hidden talents and so much strength that you do not even dream of it “, until another like you will not have the courage to answer:” Me too“, until a discussion on the subject is started in front of everyone, just as we talk about smoking, fear of taking a plane or migraine, this disease will remain unknown and we will have no place in the world other than that of dissimulation, of being hidden, of never getting anything out of life.

I know, it is impossible to talk about what is happening to you in the acute moment of the panic crisis.

Situation type, the one I hate the most: you are working, in your office, in your shop, in your class and someone you know, someone whose judgment you care, enters and observes you. You go haywire, you can no longer do anything, your ears flare up, your face is hot, your skin sweats, your armpits stink, your vision becomes blurred, your knees give way, your gestures become clumsy, awkward. The pen falls from your hand, you stumble over objects, you stammer, the words fail. At the most, with a faint voice you say: “Oh, how hot”, to justify the blaze, you invent a heat even if the menarche is still close, even if you are sixteen. No, of course it is not the case to talk now, especially if you don’t give a shit about those people and, if you do care, it doesn’t matter now, you would like to never have met them, you would like to escape and have total amnesia.

Can someone who does not suffer from social phobia tell me what it means for a woman to pass through a group of men gathered in front of a bar? Does he know what it means to see a friend, on the other side of the sidewalk, and change direction? Does he know that the ringing of the telephone paralyzes you and makes you anxiously search for someone else to answer? Does he know, perhaps, that the innocent look of a little girl, who could be your niece, pierces you to the point that you no longer know where to look? Does he know that your ears are buzzing, your body gets wet, your head spins, your brain empties, your heart pumps, your vision fogs up, your movements become uncoordinated?

Our daily war — those who speak of struggle and willpower please listen carefully — we fight it every day, just to do what others do automatically and lost in thought. So we waste our best energy.

“Like an arachnophobic at the insect museum”, that’s how we feel, and it never really ends.

In other circumstances, however, one can try to talk about it, to make the matter more “usual”, more obvious, more banal. It is difficult, I am aware of it, but you can try to be still, saying: “I’m sorry, this thing is not my thing, I prefer not to do it, I choose, if possible, other modalities”. Talking about generalized anxiety will be easier and more understandable. Lately we tend to call the social phobia “social anxiety”, which makes you less a loser without remedy.

Don’t be ashamed of your fear, don’t be afraid of your fear. Think about how many phobias you don’t have: maybe you aren’t afraid of taking a plane, or swimming, or dogs, or getting into an elevator. And if, on the other hand, you had any of these phobias, would you be ashamed? Would you keep it hidden? No, because they are common. Here, there are no legitimate fears and illicit fears, negative emotions are a huge range and everyone has their own. I know one who can’t get through the tunnels and every time we go somewhere she forces us all to take long detours to avoid the tunnels. It makes me laugh but I respect it.

Learn to demand respect, not to be dismissed with an embarrassed or compassionate giggle. Learn to get things by the wayside, to get around obstacles in the open, explaining your needs, your reasons, imposing them, if necessary, with polite firmness. Be ready to challenge the blame of the stupid, of the ignorant minds, of those who “don’t know what they are doing”, also because, let’s face it, it’s not even their fault, if no one ever talks about it, how can they understand? Years ago, dyslexia was not recognized, just as chronic fatigue syndrome was not recognized. Even then there was talk of laziness, listlessness, inability to concentrate. Now people afflicted with these problems know what they suffer from and how they should behave. Anyone who is the victim of an accident and is undergoing rehabilitation, will be told by the physiotherapist that he must implement new strategies to obtain what he previously had without effort, will have to move in another way, will have to pay more attention and concentration in gestures or in reasoning and no one would dream of making fun of him for this, because he walks with the help of a stick or wears thick glasses. Ours is also a disability and never as in our case is the term disabled appropriat. We are skilled, indeed, very skilled in certain fields, but we need more calm, more silence, more space, more relaxation to do the things that others do without even thinking about it.

Breathing is not a completely involuntary movement but it is done without thinking about it. For us, living is not like breathing, it is not automatic, for us every gesture is voluntary, thoughtful and costs us enormous effort, but we can do it following our own ways that do not necessarily have to be those of others. A deaf-mute uses sign language to communicate, a dyslexic finds who reads the page for him, you look for someone who can help you reach your goal, at least as far as possible, it is clear that no one will be able to take the exams for you.

In short, shamelessly claim the right to your fear.