Living With Social Anxiety

Let’s just get this out of the way: I have social anxiety. And not the “Oh, I don’t really like giving presentations” kind of anxiety (though that’s part of it), but the “I just had a conversation three days ago, and I’m still replaying it in my head like a crime scene” kind.

While social anxiety is something I’ve dealt with for years, it took me a while to actually understand what it was — because growing up, I thought everyone secretly hated raising their hand in class or making eye contact with the cashier.

Early Signs: The Classroom Chronicles

Let me paint a picture: 8-year-old me, sitting in class, knowing the answer to a question. Should I raise my hand? My heart is pounding, palms sweating, and suddenly my brain goes, “Wait, what if your answer is wrong? Everyone’s going to laugh.” Spoiler: no one ever laughed. But that didn’t stop me from overthinking it to the point where I’d just stare at the chalkboard, silently rooting for someone else to save me from the horror of being noticed.

Back then, I didn’t realize this was social anxiety. I just figured I was shy — maybe a little awkward. But as I got older, I started noticing that the anxious thoughts weren’t just showing up in the classroom. They were everywhere. Ordering food, calling to make appointments (the horror), and let’s not even talk about walking into a party where you only know one person. That was peak-level panic.

Social Anxiety Hits College

When I started college, I thought, “Okay, Victoria, it’s time to conquer this. New people, new environment, fresh start, right?” Wrong. Social anxiety, it turns out, doesn’t care about fresh starts. It came with me to every lecture, study group, and coffee shop.

I remember walking into my first big lecture hall. I had two very specific goals: find a seat where I wouldn’t have to speak to anyone, and for the love of all things holy, avoid eye contact. Mission accomplished… for about five minutes, until the professor decided to break the ice with a fun little group discussion on day one. My brain? Immediately going, “What if I say something stupid? What if I mispronounce a word? What if I literally forget how to talk?” So, naturally, I spent the entire time nodding and hoping no one would ask me a direct question.

The Overthinking Olympics

Let’s talk about overthinking for a second. Social anxiety turns even the simplest social interaction into a replay marathon in my head. Example: I say, “Hi, how are you?” at the grocery store, and then spend the next three days analyzing if I said it too loudly, too softly, too awkwardly, or — my favorite — did I come across as rude because I didn’t ask about their day? (They probably don’t care, Victoria, but here we are.)

Every conversation feels like a high-stakes game, and I’m never quite sure if I won or lost. It’s exhausting. But at the same time, it’s become part of my personality. That constant replay loop is just my brain’s way of reminding me that I’m human — and maybe a little neurotic.

How It’s Shaped Me

Now, despite all the awkwardness and overthinking, social anxiety has taught me a few things. For starters, it’s made me super self-aware. I’m always thinking about how my actions affect others. Sometimes, that’s a good thing! I’m more considerate, more empathetic, and probably way more polite than I need to be (seriously, I apologize for everything).

But more importantly, it’s forced me to get to know myself on a deeper level. I’ve had to confront my fears head-on — because when you have social anxiety, everyday life is basically exposure therapy. Each time I push through an awkward conversation or survive a group project without spontaneously combusting, I’m reminded that I’m capable of handling more than my brain gives me credit for.

Finding Ways to Cope (And Laugh About It)

So, how do I cope with social anxiety? Honestly, humor helps a lot. When you’ve spent years overanalyzing everything you say and do, you start to realize how ridiculous some of your fears are. I mean, the chances of me accidentally offending someone because I didn’t wave at them from across a crowded room are slim to none — but try telling that to my brain. So instead of fighting the anxiety all the time, I’ve learned to laugh at it.

I’ve also found small tricks that help in the moment. Breathing exercises, focusing on one specific thing in the room to ground myself, and reminding myself that everyone else is probably too busy thinking about their own social anxiety to notice whatever I’m freaking out about.

And, of course, talking about it. The more I’ve opened up about my struggles with friends (and now, with all of you), the more I’ve realized I’m not alone. Turns out, a lot of people are walking around with that same voice in their head — wondering if they sounded weird when they said “thanks” to the waiter.

Embracing the Journey

Social anxiety is still a part of my life, and I’m okay with that. Some days are better than others. There are still moments where my brain convinces me that the barista definitely thinks I’m weird for stuttering over my order. But I’m learning to be kinder to myself, to push through the discomfort, and to laugh at the little things — because life is awkward, and that’s okay.

If you’re someone who also deals with social anxiety, just know you’re not alone. We’re all in this overthinking, slightly-awkward, socially-anxious boat together. And honestly? It’s not such a bad place to be.