I thought I was Awkard. Turns Out It's Anxiety.

I've always been told that I  was weird or random. It's never been in a bullying way, or a pick me way either, it's just kind of been one of those statements that people feel the need to say out loud, specifically to me. I must provide a safe space for unnecessary comments. When I think of the word weird I don't mean satire manic pixie girl that male directors like to depict in movies. I also don't mean the Corky girl that feels the need to remind you just how quirky she is. I mean the person that makes a lot of jokes, smiles a little too much, and you're kind of wondering what is going on in their head, the normal assumption is a rave of thoughts or nothing at all. Truthfully its normally somewhere in-between both. It's probably the reason why I've always been drawn to quieter people, my best friend since I was 14 has said all of 11 words to me in total. Quite frankly my boyfriend is probably more random than I am, but he just happens to be “chill” so it comes off as less alarming. Mostly though, I’ve always considered myself to be awkward. For example, I tend to have blunt silences when I speak, mid conversation its like I just run out of things to say, which is normal, but instead of easing out of conversation, I just …stop speaking. I can count on my fingers and toes the amount of times I’ve literally been asked “Are you okay?” simply because I lost track of thought or things to say. It doesn’t help that I’ve got this voice that is very distinct, like if I were to ever commit a crime I'd have to make sure my mouth was duct taped the entire time. If it isn’t vocally, I am simply awkward physically. I happen to be notoriously clumsy. I think the reason why my clumsiness is so evident is more so because of my body frame. I've got broad shoulders and huge boobs and lanky legs. If I stumble, you notice. I'm awkward and I'm black and that is actually the real reason why I'm obsessed with Issa Rae. She was the first black woman that I truly saw myself in, outside of my grandmother and my mom, who I got lucky to have all their good qualities, but I don't really know where the not so sellable ones came from.

My entire writing identity has been based off of this caricature that was two parts funny and two parts relatable, and then the other day I went to my friend Sofie's birthday party, and I had a sick realization. What's opposite of a spiritual awakening? Thats the feeling that came over me. It began while I was in the shower contemplating about even going out, when I suddenly felt this nervousness. It didn’t feel relatable or funny. I realized this sudden nervousness wasn’t a part of my randomness, or weirdness, or awkwardness.  It wasn’t a caricature I could hide behind. It was like the idea of going, and how I’d be perceived suddenly made me feel so nervous. I got dressed, trying to ignore the bit, I called a car still trying to sus out what had me so on edge. My stomach continued to turn sitting in the back of the Uber, one headphone in playing DMX to pump me up while I stared out the window at the same brick faux Brooklyn style townhomes, making my way to one of the most popular streets in the district. All the while thinking “Why the hell do I feel so out of place?” As I got out the car and made my way upstairs to the smoky hookah lounge, the familiar music blaring, I locked eyes with a stranger before even seeing the birthday girl, that’s when the thought settled, “oh I have social anxiety, that's what it is.”

Social Anxiety is the reluctance and nervousness you get around being in a setting with other people, more times than not people that you aren’t necessarily comfortable with. See  Sofia is one of my closest friends. vShe recently moved away, so whenever she's having something I really try to support it. In this case it meant going to a party alone, and hoping to meet and make friends while awaiting the usual familiar faces I expected to be there. Originally I planned to go to the party with a friend of mine, I notice that as much of an outgoing person as I am, I really work well with a buffer, someone that's close enough to make me feel comfortable and responsible for staying in a place longer than 15 minutes. When that fell through, I realized that the older i’ve gotten the more my independence is expected. In the words of every black woman 25 and up “I’m Grown” and relying on a friend or sibling or another person to feel socially safe in a setting, isn’t always feasible. With this new mentality I have been trying to normalize doing more things alone. Traveling, going out to eat, going on a walk. You know, things that if I were stuck in an apocalypse I could  go at least a week doing before offing myself. I found that drinking helps. Well it helps until it doesn’t. When I was younger my hangovers came from drinking Mad Dog and other shitty liquor, now it comes from being old. I also didn’t want liquor to be my personality trait. Especially the older I get, getting sloppy drunk just wasn’t.. hot anymore. When I was 21 and my body dysmorphia was at an all time high being black out was like kind of funny and understandable, because I genuinely thought I could drink a lot, when I couldn’t . Now I’m curvy and my boobs are the size of an average 2 month of baby and, being that drunk is kind of … I don’t know what you call it, but the words “cute, understandable, and tolerable” do not come to mind. 

Once I made my way into the party, my heart pounding subdued. I was elated to see my friend Roda there, and other people I hadn’t seen in a minute. I saw my friend Ayan who lovingly reminded me that I had put on what she calls “happy weight” and I honestly was just glad to see her and other familiar faces. They all had compliments and we told eachother how good it was to see each other in one place, and I realized I was fooling them. They had no idea I had a million nerves on my way there, and had contemplated not showing up twice. In fact this had been a theme in my life. For someone who wears their emotions on their sleeves, I do a great job just coming off happy. And faking it till I make it. On the inside I have all these concerns, mainly surrounding how I am going to be viewed, or fit in. Only to realize I didn’t have anything to be worried or nervous about in the first place. And maybe that’s the point right? Like when you don’t feel like you fit in a space, that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to be there. It’s important to find the route cause of why you feel that way in the first place. See, I don’t seem like I have social anxiety, but that is because I am an impeccable liar. Okay seriously. I am able to adapt, and kind of face the reality that a lot of the second guessing probably stems from in my head. I mean for me to feel like I am drowning in a sea of discomfort and meanwhile people say I’m glowing. I gotta be doing something right? For the rest of the night I sat comfortably in my corner by the DJ booth, chugging margaritas from a plastic cup, chatting with people over the music. I naturally was approached by a 30 something who had clearly done a couple lines a blow before arriving. He talked in my ear way louder than necessary about his job. Initially, I was happy to have made eye contact with someone who was friendly, but not repulsive, and eventually as he told me about his barbershop podcast and criticized the name of mine, I thought. Yea okay I can do this.  I can mesh and meet new people, truly no one can tell how insecure I was feeling. There is also a chance, that other’s felt the same way I had, and wore a poker face just as well.

Experiences like this remind me how important to put yourself out there. To step out of your comfort zone, and face your irrational fears, by proving to them that reality is much more accurate. By all means go where you are loved. Sometimes we don’t realize how much we are loved because we are to afraid to put ourselves out there. I was so nervous about attending a party alone, and luckily for me once I arrived, I got to hang out with close friends who have seen me through a majority of impactful phases in my life, meet new people who even if just for the night provided company and conversation, and and get hit on by a black guy who works in the Olivia Pope department of the government who if nothing else reminded me that I still got it.

I also learned that I have choices. I can be where I want and my social anxiety should be an alarm that says “you’re in your head to much” or “yea its time to go” and I am the determiner of that. I like to leave early enough to be missed. Just last week I was at a bar I hadn’t been since I was 20 and I knew 45 minutes in, that I would be spending $37 on an Uber shortly after. The older I’ve gotten the more careful I’ve become with sharing my energy. I also have become more aware of how important it is to build security within myself. That way no matter what room I enter, whether I’m there for 30 minutes or at the entire night, I own it. Or at least feel good knowing I’m coming and leaving with me.