Anxiously Yours: Social Anxiety in the Most Mundane Moments

Let me paint you a picture: you’re at a party. The music is great, people are laughing, and there’s a fun energy in the room. Everyone is mingling effortlessly, chatting as if they were born to socialize. Meanwhile, you’re standing awkwardly in the corner, holding a drink you didn’t want because it seemed like the right thing to do. Welcome to my life with social anxiety.

I don’t know how some people do it — just glide into a conversation, crack a joke, and have everyone instantly love them. Meanwhile, I’m standing there, going through a mental checklist of social dos and don’ts like it’s an Olympic event.

“Did I smile too much? Not enough? Oh no, did I just nod when they said their dog died?!”

The fun begins long before the party even starts. First, there’s the whole getting ready part. While most people are excitedly picking out outfits, I’m too busy running through the scenario of arriving at the door:

“Do I knock? Do I just walk in? Oh God, what if it’s one of those houses where you take off your shoes? Are my socks weird? I should have bought new socks. People are going to judge me for my socks.”

By the time I get to the party, I’m exhausted and need to lie down. But no, we power through. Social events are like marathons for people with social anxiety. You start with high hopes, but somewhere around mile three (or 30 minutes in, in this case), you’re out of breath, regretting all your life choices, and just praying to make it to the end.

Public Speaking: My Worst Nightmare

If parties weren’t enough of a battlefield, let’s talk about public speaking. You know, that joyous occasion when you stand in front of people, and all your worst nightmares come true simultaneously. Personally, I’d rather wrestle a bear than give a speech in front of a crowd. At least with the bear, I know my odds.

The anxiety starts long before I even step on stage. First, I start sweating. Not just a little glow, but the kind of sweat that makes you wonder if you’ve run a marathon through the Sahara. My brain goes into full panic mode:

“What if I trip? What if I forget my words? What if I stand there and just…freeze?”

Then there’s the moment you finally get in front of the room, and suddenly, you forget how to be a functioning human being. Your hands? Yeah, no clue what to do with them. Should they be by your sides? In your pockets? Oh, definitely not in your pockets — that looks weird. Maybe just casually wave them around like you’re conducting an invisible orchestra?

And let’s not forget about the voice. I don’t know what happens, but the minute I start speaking, my voice takes on a life of its own. It’s like I’m doing an impression of myself, but a really bad one. In my head, I’m calm and articulate, but out loud? It’s as if I’ve inhaled helium:

“Hi, my name is Victoriaaaaaa, and today I’m going to taaaaaaalk about…”

The kicker? No one else seems to notice. People just nod along politely, as if I’m speaking like a normal person. Meanwhile, I’m having an out-of-body experience, wondering if I’ve just become the laughing stock of the century.

The Phone Call Panic

Now let’s talk about the Mount Everest of social anxiety triggers: making a phone call. For some reason, talking on the phone feels like a level of communication that I am never prepared for. It’s like all the comforting non-verbal cues — smiling, nodding, pretending to listen — are taken away, and I’m left alone with nothing but my awkward voice and crippling self-doubt.

First, I spend a good 15 minutes psyching myself up just to dial the number. My phone is literally in my hand, but my thumb hovers over the call button like I’m about to launch a missile.

“What if they don’t answer? What if they DO answer? What if I interrupt them? What if I forget how to talk?”

Finally, I hit the call button, and instantly regret it. The phone starts ringing, and with every ring, my anxiety escalates. By the time they pick up, I’m already sweating and trying to remember my own name.

Here’s the thing: when they answer, it should be easy, right? “Hi, this is Victoria, I’m just calling about…” Except my brain decides this is the perfect time to go blank.

So, instead, I freeze and start mumbling:

“Uh, hi, yeah, um, it’s me. Well, obviously it’s me. I mean, I called you. Anyway, uh, I’m calling because…wait, what was I calling about?”

I sound like I’ve never spoken to another human being in my life. And if I have to leave a voicemail? Game over. Suddenly, I forget how sentences work, and I’m just out here leaving a message that sounds like I’m auditioning for a bad sitcom.

“Hey, uh, it’s me. You know, Victoria? Yeah, so, I was just calling because…wait, let me start over. Um, actually, never mind, call me back when you can. Bye!”

Then, instead of hanging up like a normal person, I fumble and accidentally leave an extra three seconds of awkward silence at the end. Because why not add some dead air to this masterpiece?

And don’t get me started on the aftermath. After every phone call, I replay the conversation in my head 15 times, picking apart every word I said and wondering if I sounded weird or confused. Spoiler alert: I probably did, but it’s fine. I’ve made peace with my awkwardness…mostly.

Social Anxiety is a Daily Adventure

These are just a few of the everyday situations where social anxiety likes to make its grand entrance. It doesn’t have to be a big event like a party or public speaking. Sometimes it’s just the little things — like answering the phone, making small talk with a cashier, or figuring out how to end a conversation without sounding like a robot. “Okay, well…bye…have a…good life?”

But, despite all of it, I’ve learned that social anxiety is part of who I am, and I’ve had to make peace with that (or at least try). Over time, I’ve realized it’s okay to feel awkward and nervous in social situations because most people are more focused on themselves than they are on you. We’re all just trying to survive out here, and if that means occasionally leaving a terrible voicemail or stumbling through a conversation, so be it. At least we’ll have some hilarious stories to share later.

So, here’s to all of us out there overthinking our way through social situations. May we embrace our awkwardness and own our weird little quirks. And may we always remember: no one cares if you accidentally hang up mid-call and have to redial in shame.