All my life, I have suffered from social anxiety. Shyness, they called it. It's much more pernicious than shyness. Shyness is an unfortunate euphemism. It brings to mind a skittish cat.
I'm thinking more of irrational terror, shaking peoples' hands and forcing a smile, while inside you're on a dead run away from the scene. You're unable to craft the simplest of sentences. What do you ask them? What do you volunteer? Why is it so quiet? Eye contact! I need to make eye contact. Look sincere, dammit! Uh, uh, how 'bout them Cats? OK, hands in pockets, starting to shake a little. Alright, that was good, they're carrying the ball a little now. Oh, uh, nice to meet you too. Eye contact again. And....out!
Parting is no great sorrow.
A roomful of strangers, with no known commonalities. Mingling at a party. My worst nightmare. How do people do it? If I knew, I'd be in sales. I put on a brave face, but I'm screaming inside.
I suspect that it's related to the gender identity issues, at least for me. I've always felt like an imposter, with friends, family, strangers, even my wife. The expectations of who I should be don't much resemble the confused person I am within. The shame, the fear of rejection, they keep a lid on honest expression. What if I give away some tidbit that causes them to see my secret shame? Not worth the risk. Even after I revealed my secret to my wife twenty years ago, it still festered as a secret between us. Did she have a clue how very often I crossdressed, and to what extent? Or did she assume that it was minimal? The subject was never broached by either of us.
In the last year, I've begun to come out of my shell. I have managed some real social feats at my support meetings: starting conversations with new members, making small talk with acquaintances. No big deal, you think. If we jumped straight into politics, or music, or...I don't know, penile aversion, I would be fine. I can talk circles around a real subject. It's getting to that point that is excruciating. But I've been getting better, feeling like the real me, especially at meetings, but even in day-to-day life.
So here I am now, with a new blog, in a new community, and the old fears are resurfacing. So many new people. I know we share a common bond, but I am not in a position to transition any time soon, barring my wife giving up on me. It seems that everyone here is well on their way, far ahead of my self-apparent stagnation. I feel out of place, even in a community of transgendered souls. Why is that? I'm looking at a lot of blogs, inspired by several, leaving my face there as a follower. I want to comment, but I feel frozen in my inaction. What could I possibly have to contribute? These are things I'm just going to have to deal with, I guess. If I come across as standoffish, don't believe it. Inside, I am desperate to connect. It just might take me a little longer.
Musings: It's All About Community
5 hours ago
I've known lots of transwomen who describe exactly what you do here: a sort of social awkwardness and aversion to large groups of people. And although old habits die hard, transitioning or otherwise expressing themselves sometimes does seem to help. I only have anecdotal evidence to support that, but it's an observation.
ReplyDeleteAs far as the "fitting in here" thing, I think you do fine. You're thoughtful and articulate, and regardless of where you are on the TG spectrum, your human experience is all the contribution you need. Feel free to comment on my blog whenever you'd like.
I sat in the same position as you're now at for many years. I've wanted to transition since I was in my 20s and discovered that it was possible, but there was always something stopping me. I didn't start my transition until I was 50 and my marriage was falling apart. At that point, I had nothing more to lose in the process. I know how you feel about having to make the choice between marriage and transition, it's a very tough choice!
ReplyDeleteWe may be ahead of you with transition, but many of us have been where you are now! Welcome to the community!