Achieving Serenity

Practice

The power of socializing

As a child growing up, we would always travel to our cousin's house in California for Thanksgiving. My motion sickness would always ensure at least one throw up in the 6-hour car drive over there, so my mom always gave me a disgusting pill that seemed to help.

We only saw these cousins once a year if at all, so I never felt super comfortable around them. I would always enter the house feeling extremely nervous, and timidly make my way to each room, unsure of what to do with my body. My brother Jake was only one year older than me and was my exact opposite. He was always relaxed in any environment and could make anybody laugh. As a result, I would often tag along with him and just observe his orating skills until embracing the rare opportunities when I actually felt confident to speak up.

Every year, I noticed a peculiar familiarity that would inevitably occur within me. I was always too shy to speak up to anyone and was certain I would spend the entire vacation saying under twenty words. My older cousin Krissy always intimidated me, and I never knew what to say when I was around her. She was so cool and swift with her words; she was a perfect conversationalist to mix with Jake, and I would spend the first hours of the vacation silently listening to them. It would usually take at least six hours before I found myself chatting up everyone in the house with no present anxiety. It was as if all I needed was to feel the room out a little, and once I learned I was safe, I would loosen up and encompass the gift of gab that my brother naturally possessed.

By the time we were packing up to go back home, I was always bummed to leave this new community. I loved the way I would feel speaking to them and they were such great people. All the intimidation I had felt at the beginning of the trip would dissipate, and I would see my family members for the amicable people they truly are.

The next Thanksgiving would come, and the cycle would repeat. I'd take that motion sickness pill on the ride over, timidly make my presence known when we arrived, and feel the intimidation of these cool and funny people that I can never be like because I always felt as if I was too shy. My strategy would continue as I'd trail Jake around the house as we mingled with the others; I would give a hug and hello and silently people-watch. By the end of the trip, one could not shut me up. I would go in shy, certain I was shy, and come out going, knowing I must be growing.

It was as if my social skills were NOT like riding a bike, and would require constant maintenance in order to upkeep. If I isolate and believe I'm too shy, then I become too shy and don't get to experience the beauty of social interaction. When I forcefully put myself into situations where isolation is impossible, my shyness dissipates and doesn't come back until I choose to isolate once again.

In the present day, my family hasn't visited those cousins in over fifteen years as most of them have moved to separate states, and our traditions had changed as new family members began coming in with weddings and pregnancies. We celebrate Thanksgiving at home mainly, with some extended family members making visits. This year for Christmas, my entire family was going to be there, including my some brothers whom I haven't seen in years since they moved to the other side of the country. I was thrilled for us all to be reunited, and it was a lovely feeling to have everyone back under the roof we all grew up in, now with a plethora of new grandchildren.

I drove over to my parent's house on Christmas Eve around 6:30 pm. I figured my family would have already eaten dinner by this point, and I'll be able to ninja my way and have dinner by myself. I don't want to sit next to family members because I know I smell like an ashtray and I don't think they even know I smoke. I definitely didn't want my nieces and nephews to find this out, as we were a fairly strict Mormon household with the exception of a few drifters, obviously, myself included. Plus, if I eat after everyone, it's more likely that nobody will try to chat me up. This notion made me feel safe considering the anxiety I felt overseeing my brothers, their wives, their children, and I think an old family friend is going to be there, my great-aunt was coming this year- Oh my goodness. I am so nervous right now. I walked into the house and smelled the meat from the tacos, and gave a half-enthusiastic greeting to the family I saw. Do they smell the smoke? I bet they smell the smoke; I need to go to the bathroom right now and freshen up.

They hadn't eaten dinner yet, and I actually made it just in time. The kids were playing video games while the adults sat at the dining table and made conversation. I made sure to break the ice with every adult that I hadn't seen in a long time, then made my way over to the kitchen to float over my father as he cooked tortillas. The next thing I knew, it was about fifteen or twenty minutes later and I was still awkwardly standing around, making no communication attempts. I was only speaking to my parents, whom I see on a fairly regular basis. I was growing annoyed that dinner hadn't started yet- it was as if my brain was going crazy due to the lack of structure. I needed someone to chair this dinner, get us all quiet, and then I can eat and make limited conversation. MOM CAN WE PLEASE FUCKING EAT DINNER NOW?!

Why weren't my brothers talking to me? They appeared to be busy at the dining table, so I continued having my nervous breakdown in the kitchen. I was visibly shaking; I can't even remember the last time I have felt so nervous. If I had a job right now, I would feel more comfortable talking to people. But I am so afraid that they will ask me that haunting question- "So Kev, what have you been up to lately?" I've been trying to make music lately, but I don't have any success yet so I don't want to sound pathetic or have them thinking I'm a lost cause.

Turns out nobody asked any scary questions, and about six hours later, I was back in a desirable state of emotional comfortability. I was not only talking with everyone at the house but making known some of my controversial opinions. It was the most fun I'd had in a long time, absolutely contrasting from my usual isolating sessions of writing music.

The next three days, I was at that house mindfully spending time with everyone, and I got the feeling that I had found a new group of friends. Once my cousins had left to go back home, I was genuinely bummed that I wouldn't get to feel the way I felt talking and spending time with them. It was as if my tribe was leaving me.

I don't understand exactly how anxiety works inregards to socializing comfortably, but I can undoubtedly attest to the factthat exposure is key. I always go into situations fearing the worst andplanning my evasive tactics. But once I remain present and don't give up, 100%of the time I become comfortable and almost a brand new person. I think I'm shyand bad at talking to people, but deep down I know I am outgoing and cannotever underestimate my ability to settle into new environments.