Overcoming Shyness - New Strategies

OVERCOMING SHYNESS – NEW STRATEGIES "You don't have to be shy," a friend told me several years ago. Yeah, sure, I thought. Just tap my heels together three times, right? Okay, I knew she was just trying to help. All my life, I had never been able to talk to someone without anxiety. Truly, it felt like I was trying to talk underwater with an invisible force holding my mouth shut. Losing my shyness was always nice to fantasize about. Over the years, I had always comforted myself with the vague hope that one morning I'd wake up and be cured. But after twenty plus years, that magical morning still hadn't come. I couldn't lie to myself any more. That was when I thought—no, I knew--that I had less chance of becoming a brazen, unabashed chatterbox than Buffy had of eradicating all vampires off the face of the Earth. Or less chance than the Catholic Church has of getting a female Pope. I was at the dead-end. Was I was doomed to the dull, gray, lifeless existence of wallflower-ness? Those uncomfortable evenings standing in the corner by myself, trying to pretend like I was having a good time. Desperately longing for someone— anyone--to come and talk to me. Unfortunately, if someone did stop to talk, I could barely talk or even listen, as fear would paralyze me ("social anxiety"). People would sense my discomfort and pull away. I felt sick at how the rest of my life would be filled with more of this torture. I had to do something.

Period.

I had recently read about how shy people don't just "snap" out of it, but must practice relentlessly to change their thoughts and behavior ("behavior modification"). This "practice" sounded somewhat like how actors like Johnny Depp immerse themselves in a new role, how they completely become that person— appearance, movements, speech, mannerisms, etc. Acting is a tried and true strategy that's been around for over 4,000 years. I could do this, I thought. I could become the person I wanted to be. So I needed a role model to copy from. There were so many to choose from, so I finally decided to pick qualities from a few of them. From the Harry Potter series, I chose three. First, Hermione, the logical rebel. She has so much intelligence and utterly dead-on common sense that no one can successfully argue with her impeccable sense of right and wrong. This includes her refusal to let her friends lie to themselves, nor to let anyone in power lie to others. Second, Luna Lovegood, unabashedly quirky and unflappable. When someone insults or laughs at her, she tactfully ignores their insecurity; then, without missing a beat, continues, "Okay, so as we were discussing like the adults that we are …." Third, Ginny, who is so confident and matter-of-fact that she wields power naturally, and is also a lot of fun. I also chose Holly Hunter, consummate extrovert who, in everything she does, does it with passion, high energy, unflinching fearlessness, confidence, and in-yourface-if-she-has to. Also, I so wanted to have her articulate motormouth for party conversations—she definitely has no invisible wires holding her mouth shut. So what was next? I was invited to a party the next Saturday—my first big "acting" gig! But I knew that I had to first immerse myself in my new role.

I

had to do my homework. There was no way I could go "onstage" and ace my new role without ever practicing my new lines and moves. I went home to begin my new life of being someone else. On DVD, I watched my heroines and took notes. At home, I practiced walking, talking, and moving like them. I pretended that I was Holly when I talked to my roommates, Hermione in my arguments, Luna in my defensiveness, and Ginny when trying to lighten up. I practiced my new moves and attitudes even while washing dishes. In the beginning, acting like my role models was difficult because I wasn't used to opening my mouth, much less "pushing" my words at other people. Also, I discovered that I couldn't truly act and say the words without the right attitudes. Furthermore, in order to have the right attitudes, I had to support it with more positive thinking. For example, if I wanted to tell someone, "you've got it wrong," I couldn't say it like Hermione without thinking like, "hey, I'm smart enough to know what's wrong!" And I couldn't tell a boisterously fun story as Holly would, without thinking "this is great!" The mirror also helped me work out my new attitudes, but it was no substitute for acting around a big social setting. After a few days of being other people, I needed to practice my new lines and moves in a public place. Preferably a safe and/or anonymous place full of strangers. That way, it wouldn't matter if I made a mistake—because I'd never see them again. Anonymous, I could even feel safe enough to experiment with riskier moves. An art gallery reception seemed to be the perfect place, full of strangers, sometimes wine, where everyone has something to say about art. I knew from a friend that many art gallery receptions usually occur on the first Thursday of the month. They're always listed in the newspaper—they want people to go and look at the art and, hopefully, buy some. I knew very little about art, but that wasn't going to stop me. I was desperate to move forward with my plan to lose my shyness. So one Thursday, I found myself in a room full of strangers, standing next to a dark painting with red slashes in the middle. Behind me, an intense pixie-like girl, long black hair to her waist asked, "What do you think?" It's showtime, I thought. "Well, you see," I said in my smartest Hermione voice, "he's trying to get at something, some meaning, so he puts down all these fragments of meaning to see if he could come up with an answer—you know, like putting two and two together." She said, admiringly, "Oh, I love that. That was great. Though 'he' is really a 'she'. Let me introduce myself. I'm the artist who painted that." My shyness welled up and tried to tell me that I was going to fail. But my inner Hermione told it to shut up and leave, then graciously offered my hand to the artist. My training was working! The artist didn't get uncomfortable around me. After a minute or so, the artist excused herself to greet others. I tried to talk to a couple of other people, but, exhausted from my first big success, I went home. From then on, I started to call my shyness "Draco", the name of the bully in Harry Potter. My shyness was, indeed, a bully.

To expand my repertoire, I practiced some of the extroverted moves of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. For my next big public experiment, I went to the party as Buffy. I tried to say anything off the top of my head without thinking. I did say a few smart-alecky sounding things, but no one seemed to notice or care, although one of my friends did look anxious for a sec. But I just pretended I was intentionally being goofy. And everyone bought it. My inner Draco kept trying to intimidate me, but my inner Buffy sassed him right back. The next party, as Holly Hunter, I tried a new tactic. I just kept asking people questions, for people just love to talk about themselves. And they thought I was great company just for listening and being interested—enthusiastically, like Holly, of course. My social fears were subsiding. I won't say that I didn't feel awkward at first. Or didn't make mistakes. But I kept practicing and learning about how to talk to different kinds of people. The invisible force that clamped my mouth shut got looser and looser, and my inner Draco started to give up, talking only in whispers. My transformation didn't happen overnight. It happened little by little. Sometimes I'd think I would never make it, but then I'd impress someone. People stopped avoiding me and my anxiety. Every time I practiced, I got better and more comfortable with my "lines and moves". I began to discover my own lines and moves that had been trapped inside of me. Eventually, I no longer felt dread when invited to parties, clubs, and other crowd scenes. Instead, I began to relish those invitations, looking forward to another chance to practice my new self. I began to buy some new threads to better immerse myself in my new "role". My confidence grew. I started to read more books so I'd have more to talk about. Then one day I realized the fear was gone. I had become the beautifully dressed, charming, loquacious person I had always wanted to be. Epilogue: Over the years, I've also come to realize that socializing takes a lot of energy, so I've had to stay in shape. Also important, I had to reprogram myself to replace negative thoughts with positive, for my inner Draco thrives on the negative and hypercritical.