isolophobia
The problem with being alone.
I will be the first to admit that when in the confines of my own home, in the comfort of my own room - I am very happy to be alone. The joy I find in rolling around like a kitten on my carpet floor, listening to my vinyls and talking to myself, far surpasses the joy I experience at many good parties I've attended. So much so, in fact, I have been known to regularly pull out of social outings (last minute of course, much to the disdain of my friends) in favour of eating chocolate ice cream and watching illegally streamed internet movies in my bed.
However, I would just like to point out that being alone OUT THERE is very different story.
It came to my attention yesterday when my friend pulled out of going to an art performance with me that I am terrified of being alone at social events. I was looking forward to this particular outting, and felt I'd regret it if I were to skip on it. But now that I had no one to go with I was pulling at the skin of my dry fingertips with anxiety.
HORROR! I frantically read through my contacts list 3 times over, thinking about who to ask - and those who I did ask replied with "sorry"s and "already have plans!".
I gave myself an ultimatum: I either grow some balls (yes I used this exact wording) and go alone or I stay home and watch Spongebob on YouTube.
An image of myself, small, insignificant and donned in daggy clothing appeared in my mind. I stood in the gallery, everyone talking to one another in their elite social circles draped in the most intimidatingly attractive outfits. I envisaged a huge void around me - no one would approach me in fear of being sucked into the netherworld.
So, I optioned for the latter. Spongebob couldn't judge me, after all.
I suppose you may have been expecting this to be a story about victory over fears. But it isn't. Perhaps the happy ending can be that I indeed made it to the performance, because one of my friends pulled through and managed to come with me.
Afterwards, when going home, my friend and I discussed this irrational fear of social situations and why the thought of being alone or having to make friends with strangers was such a nerve-wrecking one. After all, what's the worst that could happen? Rejection is easy to get over - perhaps it's your own awkwardness that is the most painful.
Surely with practice this awkwardness will slowly diminish? If that's so, the key to being alone is practice...
But then one has to ask: does being alone in your bedroom count as practice?
If so, I should be a fucking pro by now!
I will be the first to admit that when in the confines of my own home, in the comfort of my own room - I am very happy to be alone. The joy I find in rolling around like a kitten on my carpet floor, listening to my vinyls and talking to myself, far surpasses the joy I experience at many good parties I've attended. So much so, in fact, I have been known to regularly pull out of social outings (last minute of course, much to the disdain of my friends) in favour of eating chocolate ice cream and watching illegally streamed internet movies in my bed.
However, I would just like to point out that being alone OUT THERE is very different story.
It came to my attention yesterday when my friend pulled out of going to an art performance with me that I am terrified of being alone at social events. I was looking forward to this particular outting, and felt I'd regret it if I were to skip on it. But now that I had no one to go with I was pulling at the skin of my dry fingertips with anxiety.
HORROR! I frantically read through my contacts list 3 times over, thinking about who to ask - and those who I did ask replied with "sorry"s and "already have plans!".
I gave myself an ultimatum: I either grow some balls (yes I used this exact wording) and go alone or I stay home and watch Spongebob on YouTube.
An image of myself, small, insignificant and donned in daggy clothing appeared in my mind. I stood in the gallery, everyone talking to one another in their elite social circles draped in the most intimidatingly attractive outfits. I envisaged a huge void around me - no one would approach me in fear of being sucked into the netherworld.
So, I optioned for the latter. Spongebob couldn't judge me, after all.
I suppose you may have been expecting this to be a story about victory over fears. But it isn't. Perhaps the happy ending can be that I indeed made it to the performance, because one of my friends pulled through and managed to come with me.
Afterwards, when going home, my friend and I discussed this irrational fear of social situations and why the thought of being alone or having to make friends with strangers was such a nerve-wrecking one. After all, what's the worst that could happen? Rejection is easy to get over - perhaps it's your own awkwardness that is the most painful.
Surely with practice this awkwardness will slowly diminish? If that's so, the key to being alone is practice...
But then one has to ask: does being alone in your bedroom count as practice?
If so, I should be a fucking pro by now!