Growing Up Shy, Introverted and Socially Apprehensive

September 15 2020

I’d like to start off with a disclaimer:

I’ve never visited a therapist, psychologist or related health professional for the purpose of discussing mental health problems, and have therefore never been diagnosed with any mental health disorders. However, what I would like to acknowledge is that mental health is a continuum (shoutout to my year 12 psychology teacher) and anyone can move up and down the continuum at any given point in their lives. So whilst today I consider myself to be mostly mentally strong, stable and capable of regulating my own thoughts and emotions, I haven’t always been like this, and I certainly still have my moments of anxious thoughts, just like anyone else.

For most of my childhood, or at least as much as I can remember, I was a very very shy person. Between the ages of around 4-6, my parents would often chastise me for coming across as rude when I repeatedly clung to their legs and hid behind them, struggling even to look strangers in the eye and acknowledge them with at least a smile. This is where I believe people often misconceive shyness; although it is widely accepted that shy people take longer to warm up to and grow comfortable around new faces, I don’t think everyone fully understands just how debilitating it can be. Imagine if every time you were expected to interact with a new or mostly unfamiliar face, your heart rate doubled, you could physically feel the blood rushing to your head and your mouth became so dry that you couldn’t even get a word out if you wanted to. So no, I was not rude, I simply had a very active sympathetic nervous system.

For the first few years of my life, I was definitely down the extreme end of shy and timid personalities, to the point that my early kinder teachers used to report to my mum that I simply refused to say a word to anyone else. I seriously wonder how I ever even made friends! As I slowly became familiar with the other kids in my year level, I did eventually manage to socialise and make connections, yet I still remained a largely quiet person (with the exception of around my family and friends, of course). In every parent-teacher interview, I would be encouraged to speak more during class, and in group discussions I was rarely the first person to be vocal. Looking back, I sometimes wonder if I displayed early signs of selective mutism or social anxiety that just faded away as I matured. So while I don’t have social phobia, I do want to talk about the very real – and probably widespread and relatable – struggle of dealing with social apprehensiveness or socially anxious thoughts, during high school.

For someone shy and mostly introverted, the social aspect of school was seriously daunting and overwhelming. And once high school hit, I was forced to say goodbye to the innocent playdates and birthday parties I had grown accustomed to; the meaning of socialising as I knew it, had morphed into something I was just not ready for.

Besides the obvious physiological changes associated with puberty, the clickiness, bitchiness and exclusion are absolutely horrendous. A lot of the things I enjoyed and invested my time into, such as my schoolwork, reading, outings to pretty gardens and movie nights at home, were made to seem stupid; I had convinced myself that I should be going to parties every weekend and staying up until 3am, as well as obsessing over fashion trends, bikini photoshoots, boys and social media. Today, I of course acknowledge that there is nothing wrong with any of this, and I do personally enjoy most of these areas of interest, but back when I was 13-16, my priorities lay elsewhere. But someone like me, who was timid and passive and not yet sure of myself, had decided that the ‘popular’ half of the year level would dictate how I should be spending my time.

Someone with more self-awareness would probably have realised that it’s not all or nothing, as you can obviously be both studious and also enjoy partying. Yet I was struggling with an internal burning desire to be ‘accepted’ by the ‘cool’ kids, which directly clashed with the feeling that I was not ‘allowed’ to behave in a way that did not match my ‘label’ as a ‘quiet and studious’ person. I experienced a lot of FOMO and came to dread many Saturday nights, when I would sit in my room and scroll through my social media accounts, full of photos and videos of parties and gatherings that I was not part of. While deep down I knew that I wouldn’t actually enjoy those environments with people I was not actually friends with, I still felt rejected and inferior. Don’t get me wrong, I did have many good friends with whom I shared common interests. But nonetheless, I wasn’t content. I was not alone, but I was lonely.

During senior school, I desperately wanted to speak to new people and spend more time with others, share ideas and try to form new connections, but my social apprehensiveness meant that I didn’t know how to do so. I was so envious of others’ easy confidence, and constantly questioned, ‘why can’t I be more like this person?’ In my mind, I thought I was not allowed to interact with ‘popular’ people; I had a box and I was obligated to remain within its walls. The few times that I did try to converse with different people, I usually ended up freezing, unable to figure out how to make a conversation flow when we had different interests. Instead of talking about my own passions and sharing my true opinions, I would resort to simply agreeing with what others said in the hopes that they would consider me ‘worthy’ of having as a friend. I was honestly my own worst enemy; even though I craved new social connections, I ended up avoiding those who weren’t my friends because I assumed that they wouldn’t want my company or wouldn’t be interested in my ideas and hobbies. Essentially, I decided it wasn’t worth the stress of trying to relate to new people and avoid awkward silences.

It really has taken me the entirety of my schooling and a whole summer after graduating to properly understand and accept myself. A lot of the time the labels we think others have assigned to us, are actually labels we’ve assigned to ourselves based on what we believe others expect. I finally understand that people appreciate you more when you act yourself and let your unique traits and interests show, and conversations are so much more dynamic and engaging when people have different ideas and opinions. If I had known any of this when I was going through high school, I would probably have had many more conversations with different people, and spent a whole lot less time stressing over social situations. This understanding has really helped me come out of my shell since graduating, and find the confidence to interact with unfamiliar faces. Today, I am happy to say that I am not nearly as shy as I ever used to be (although I definitely still have my moments of apprehensiveness). I also ensure that I spend time with the people I genuinely want to spend my time with, and make an active effort to work on and maintain new friendships that make me happy (as well as keeping up with those closest to me).

I am definitely not the first person to deal with shyness and social pressures during school, and I am definitely not the last. My aim in sharing my personal story is to bring more attention to the hardships that accompany shyness. If you relate to anything I have written, know that you are never alone. I encourage you to embrace your unique self when trying to speak to new people, because it does get easier. But also remember that when you find those who understand you and enjoy your company, appreciate them! Love yourself and forget about trying to be like everyone else. YOU are the only person who can control YOUR happiness.