[ what I might not say out loud, but think about—I don’t actually know you so this is more about my reaction to friends who seem to worry on the same dimensions you’re worrying here ]
Demanding simple answers to complex questions annoys me. The behavior annoys me, but you are more than just that behavior. It’s not “you are annoying me”, or even “you’re annoying me right now, but generally don’t”, as I’m enjoying many aspects of our interaction and friendship, and I don’t want you to leave. My feelings and yours are complicated enough that I anticipate my honest complaints about minor irks will interfere with the continued (also honest) enjoyment of the good bits.
This particular concern of yours may feel from inside like it can make you a better/more desirable/stronger friend, but it pattern-matches to simple validation-seeking so strongly that it’s impossible to tell from outside your head. And from experience with others, it’s easier and less risky to give validation than to try to explain the complexity. Sorry, I like you, but not enough to be your therapist.
It is very much validation seeking. The point I’m trying to make is that the validation I get in response needs, itself, to be valid or it won’t do anything for me, because I am very, very good at seeing reasons why comforting words might be said in order to comfort me even if they are false. The truth, however, is entangled with reality. There should be evidence to support it. I would rather be given reassurance that includes references to the evidence. A lot of the time, I’m freaking out partly because I have temporarily forgotten about the evidence that supports confidence and trust.
Once, I went on a gondola ride at a fair with my boyfriend at the time, a young man who had experience dealing with my anxiety. I am afraid of heights. Or more accurately, as it is sometimes said, afraid of falling. I kept looking at the little overhand hook that attached the gondola to the wire, and the ground so far under us, and thinking that if we were to bounce in the car, or if some force were to hit it from underneath (not that there was anything that would), it could come right off and crash down, and we could both die. The reassurance my boyfriend gave me that actually worked was this: “Look at all the other cars. You see them?” Mhm. “How many are there?” I wasn’t sure, but there were quite a few. “How many have fallen down?” It took one or two seconds for me to smile and hug him, because that genuinely was reassuring. It might be possible, and ‘Nothing bad is going to happen to us’ probably would have sounded to me like famous last words, but a visual demonstration of the consistency of the ride, and the reminder that freak accidents at fairgrounds would draw a lot of attention and are extremely rare… That helped me to calm down and start enjoying the view.
This example isn’t about social anxiety, so it’s a lot easier to describe, and demonstrates the point neatly. Evidence that supports social confidence is generally a lot more messy and subjective, because there are more layers of interaction and my fear can be a part of the problem itself. This can make it more difficult to come up with acceptably solid reasons to believe that my friends genuinely like to be around me, but if they can tell me about things like happy memories we’ve had together, or good things I have done or continue to do for them (such as that they like the way I get excited about things, or my home cooking, or playing video games with me), it helps a great deal. Gives me something positive I hadn’t been thinking about but do know exists, to hold onto through my panic attack. Only, you see, I don’t want someone to tell me they enjoy my cooking if they don’t.
[ what I might not say out loud, but think about—I don’t actually know you so this is more about my reaction to friends who seem to worry on the same dimensions you’re worrying here ]
Demanding simple answers to complex questions annoys me. The behavior annoys me, but you are more than just that behavior. It’s not “you are annoying me”, or even “you’re annoying me right now, but generally don’t”, as I’m enjoying many aspects of our interaction and friendship, and I don’t want you to leave. My feelings and yours are complicated enough that I anticipate my honest complaints about minor irks will interfere with the continued (also honest) enjoyment of the good bits.
This particular concern of yours may feel from inside like it can make you a better/more desirable/stronger friend, but it pattern-matches to simple validation-seeking so strongly that it’s impossible to tell from outside your head. And from experience with others, it’s easier and less risky to give validation than to try to explain the complexity. Sorry, I like you, but not enough to be your therapist.
It is very much validation seeking. The point I’m trying to make is that the validation I get in response needs, itself, to be valid or it won’t do anything for me, because I am very, very good at seeing reasons why comforting words might be said in order to comfort me even if they are false. The truth, however, is entangled with reality. There should be evidence to support it. I would rather be given reassurance that includes references to the evidence. A lot of the time, I’m freaking out partly because I have temporarily forgotten about the evidence that supports confidence and trust.
Once, I went on a gondola ride at a fair with my boyfriend at the time, a young man who had experience dealing with my anxiety. I am afraid of heights. Or more accurately, as it is sometimes said, afraid of falling. I kept looking at the little overhand hook that attached the gondola to the wire, and the ground so far under us, and thinking that if we were to bounce in the car, or if some force were to hit it from underneath (not that there was anything that would), it could come right off and crash down, and we could both die. The reassurance my boyfriend gave me that actually worked was this: “Look at all the other cars. You see them?” Mhm. “How many are there?” I wasn’t sure, but there were quite a few. “How many have fallen down?” It took one or two seconds for me to smile and hug him, because that genuinely was reassuring. It might be possible, and ‘Nothing bad is going to happen to us’ probably would have sounded to me like famous last words, but a visual demonstration of the consistency of the ride, and the reminder that freak accidents at fairgrounds would draw a lot of attention and are extremely rare… That helped me to calm down and start enjoying the view.
This example isn’t about social anxiety, so it’s a lot easier to describe, and demonstrates the point neatly. Evidence that supports social confidence is generally a lot more messy and subjective, because there are more layers of interaction and my fear can be a part of the problem itself. This can make it more difficult to come up with acceptably solid reasons to believe that my friends genuinely like to be around me, but if they can tell me about things like happy memories we’ve had together, or good things I have done or continue to do for them (such as that they like the way I get excited about things, or my home cooking, or playing video games with me), it helps a great deal. Gives me something positive I hadn’t been thinking about but do know exists, to hold onto through my panic attack. Only, you see, I don’t want someone to tell me they enjoy my cooking if they don’t.