There is certainly a difference between normal shyness and pathological shyness (or social anxiety disorder). I now recognise that when I was a teenager I was pathologically shy - I had always been quiet (still am) and during my 20s would have been considered shy (as in talking to people I didn't know well or in authority made me nervous but not speaking to close friends or family), but during my teens it was a whole different matter.
I didn't have many friends anyway (not close ones at all really), but I couldn't even speak to my family. I remember finding conversation with my Grandparents difficult even though they had visited every week since I was born. My parents I could barely speak to, particularly to ask for anything I really wanted, to voice any opinion or demonstrate that I knew anything, the opposite of any normal teenager. In particular I felt like I couldn't draw any attention to myself out of some sort of shame, so just continued with routines I had done for years to prevent any comment and as a result for example couldn't shower more than twice a week, or walk into a record shop even though I desperately wanted to and many other things (these were things I had hated as a child). There was no way I could ask for these things and they became somehow 'forbidden' from me, which made me very unhappy. In terms of opinions and knowledge I felt as though I knew nothing, despite being very intelligent, and feared ridicule for being wrong so never dared venture anything (although it was never a problem putting what I knew in written exams). This was very different from the people I did know who were shy, but generally only with strangers (strangely I have always found complete strangers easier to talk to than almost anyone).
I went through years of not having a proper in depth conversation with anyone (except in my head), and sometimes days of not saying more than yes, no, don't know. Strangely I didn't think of this as an illness, I just thought of it as how I was and normal for me, and desperately envied other people who seemed to effortlessly talk to people. I imagine it came about through being ridiculed by people for saying the wrong things, and being very sensitive the easiest thing was just to stop speaking entirely. Of course I ended up very depressed, but although I was never diagnosed with anything like social anxiety - partly because I never told anyone at the time what I have written in the last two paragraphs (maybe I didn't even realise it), the worst bits of the problem were 'cured' with my depression and I just returned to being shy in a more normal way, although still wishing in many situations that I could say what I wanted, or have something interesting to say, but I think that is fairly normal for shy people.
Nowadays that whole problem has gone and I say what I like or keep quiet depending upon my own wishes/moods, but I am never left wanting to say things I can't say. It is such a relief. I still really appreciate it and it has made me more friends despite being quite direct with what I say a lot of the time. According to my mother I was mute for a time as a toddler and she was planning to take me to the doctor but then I suddenly started talking again. I have also been near mute as a teenager (as I mentioned, completely at times and was unable to say anything about how I felt when I was hospitalised for depression), and had a lot of problems talking a few years ago in my late 20s when I was living in France - in particular I couldn't bring myself to speak French, but became ashamed of just using English and spent days unable to ask people the most basic requests even though I was in theory capable of it. I also became depressed then, although erratically with periods of normality, and during the periods of depression was unable to speak at all. In some ways the periods of normality made things worse as people then thought I was deliberately being rude during the periods of depression.
Still nowadays I have periods of depression when speaking seems like a huge effort so I avoid it, but usually when that happens now I actually don't want to speak rather than being desperate to say something so it doesn't feel so bad. Nobody seems to understand how speaking can be an effort. I was amazed to read an account of somebody with depression who was unable to get out of bed but would ring friends and get them to come and help him. I wouldn't do that now, let alone when depressed (on the other hand I am very self sufficient and get myself out of bed even if I feel very ill) and I just can't imagine how someone can do that - the ability to speak and communicate is always the first thing to go with me.
Even now, in a normal mood (as opposed to a particularly happy one), greeting people or doing small talk costs me a lot mentally - people say it doesn't hurt to be friendly but in my case it really does - it isn't an effort that is worthwhile, but an effort that makes me feel awkward and somehow 'wrong' mentally after I have done it, even if successfully (from the other person's perspective). That is also something I have had from being a child and find noone else who knows what this is like. On the other hand, now I can speak (most of the time) I find that when it works it is probably the most rewarding thing in life, being able to have an in depth and amusing conversation with people who you respect and who respect you. There is nothing that I enjoy more when it works - people don't realise how lucky they are to take that for granted.
30 Jun 2011, 4:12 pm
