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I'm attempting to write this, yet it feels like sheer torture. I have an overwhelming feeling of dread, that all who read this are going to pick it apart. I feel overwhelmed by the fact that I am even attempting to put my words out there for judgment. Yet, I'm going to try.
I have to stop every so often and review my sentences, to make sure there are no typo's. I know in my head that I can go back over this when I'm done and fix them. But a part of me can't let it go and I have to make sure that all the words are correct. My sentences must be complete and don't run on. I must make sure that I wont make a fool of myself, because they..."T H E Y"...are out there and judging me. Right now, even before I hit the send button, I know that I wont be up to par and I'll have failed. I am a person with social phobia, and this is how I feel.

OK, so who is the mysterious they? Why, that would be you dear readers. All of you out there in the world, reading this right now, this very minute. You are the "they" of my nightmares, the judge and jury of my sanity.
Now you ask yourself, why does she feel judged? Why are we the bad guys looking down on her and saying you are not enough, your not normal, not like us. The answer is so simple and ridiculous. Because I made everyone that way. I made everyone the big scary judge who is out to get me.
Crazy? Yes, it sounds that way. Yet when I go out, or even put myself out there on the net, this is the kind of thinking that will go through my head. It's a vicious process that started in high school and has run rampant through my life. Every interaction with someone I don't know, heck even some I do know, is pure hell. My mind races like the scene above; what will they think. The sane part of me screams, why do I care dammit! We who live in this whirlpool of self-doubt, who berate ourselves for our inadequacies, this is our torment. To ever hear the small voice crying out, your not good enough to be here, to be a part of the world. That is the crushing reality of social anxiety.
Seeing the signs early, getting treatment helps, it opens the door for relief and rescue. But those of us, ones like me, who snuck through life, we have to find a way to deal with it till we can get the help on our own. We wait in our homes hiding, until we hit the wall. We realize, this isn't life. Hiding inside, worrying and waiting till that next party, or phone call. We decide we need to climb out of our holes and find the light. I go to therapy now and I realize, I spent so much time hiding from life, from the world, I never realized how badly I needed to break free. I'm a work in progress now. I am also trying to be more forgiving to myself, letting go when I make mistakes. Not focusing on where will I sit and who will I talk to, or weather I make a fool of myself or not. I'm learning that the only person judging me that counts, is just me. And I am my harshest critic of all.

Learn more about this author, Kathleen Lemaire.
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