Social Awkwardness: You’re Thinking About It Wrong
It doesn’t need to hold you back.
Every day, I see posts online from new adults who want to learn how to get over their social awkwardness or who wonder about their ability to make friends. This one’s for you, my dear anonymous strangers.
When I was a kid, and for a long time actually, I thought I was pretty socially awkward. I felt uncomfortable in social situations, particularly those with people my own age, and I expected everyone to see immediately that I was not nearly as cool as they were.
Recently, I even found a journal entry from my teens that recalled bonding with a guy via instant messenger, over our feelings in this regard. Here’s a short passage:
“We both openly talked about the discomfort of social situations, and about friends, and feeling lonely.”
The thing this boy and I had in common was that we were both homeschooled, and guess what comes with being homeschooled? The assumption that you’re a socially awkward weirdo. It goes with the label so much so that you start to believe it to be true, and I did.
What I’ve realized in recent years, however, is that a whole heck of a lot of people (across very different backgrounds) feel that they’re socially awkward and that it’s a problem.
Some of my good friends — people who most certainly are not (in my opinion) socially awkward, hold tight to this belief of themselves as an important part of their identity. They’re frequently worried about having potentially said the wrong thing, and they get anxious heading into any social situation with people they’re not already comfortable with.
But I’m telling you, these folks and their behavior are perfectly fine! No one would observe or interact with them and think, “Woah, what a weirdo, I’m never talking to them again.”
So what’s going on here? Why are so many of us obsessed with this idea of social awkwardness, not in regards to others, but in ourselves?
What I’ve found, first of all, is that we tend to believe our feelings are indicative of some objective reality, when really, there often isn’t much, if any, linkage.
As a young professional, I was whisked suddenly into a management position where I spent a lot of time in very anxiety-producing situations. I had to lead meetings and presentations, not just for coworkers, but for outside professional organizations and people in positions of significant authority. This was in my early twenties, and it was terrifying.
For a while, during each meeting or presentation, I was sure that everyone present could see through me and how incapable I was of talking to be people without being awkward. I knew they would soon be able to tell that I was some big anxious weirdo who had no idea what I was doing, and they were probably going to walk out of there laughing at me.
And yet, every time I walked out at the end of one of those meetings or presentations, I was told by superiors, coworkers, and participants how great it was. I was “so natural,” and “spoke with such confidence.” For a while, I thought, What in the world are they talking about?
I eventually realized they were unintentionally demonstrating that my feelings — my anxieties about myself were not actually linked with what others experienced or how they perceived me.
A lot of us get anxious about social situations. It’s a very normal part of the human experience.
Unfortunately, when we hold those anxieties as containing true information about ourselves, we tend to act in ways that perpetuate those fears.
As a kid, because I thought I wasn’t good in social situations, I tended to hold myself back. I didn’t put myself out there, didn’t take chances. I didn’t let many people get to know me very well. So I continued to feel awkward and held onto this belief that I was debilitatingly bad at social situations.
Now, I’d be willing to bet that a significant portion of people out there who are concerned that they’re socially awkward are making this same mistake. It’s a common anxiety that becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
That being said, yes, some people are sometimes socially awkward — whatever that means — or act differently from, let’s say, “the norm.” But here’s the thing: it’s okay.
If you’re not a jerk, and you let people get to know you, people will like you, quirks and all.
Sure, a**holes may not like you, but do you really want them to?
So many of us seem to think we live in the world of an 80s high school TV show, where bullies and mean girls are waiting to tear down anyone who dares reveal some quirk or imperfection. This just isn’t true.
Human traits exist on a spectrum, and most decent people are pretty understanding of that.
If you’ve seen the show, Love on the Spectrum, about the dating lives of young people with autism, then you know that social interactions can be, at times “awkward,” and yet also effective and fulfilling.
Being “awkward” does not take away your talents, your kindness, or any contribution you may bring. You are not less valued or less worthy of love.
Here’s the tl;dr
- The social awkwardness you may feel you’re exhibiting is probably mostly in your head.
- And even if you are a bit awkward, most people aren’t going to think twice about it or judge you for it. (We’re all too busy worrying about our own potential screw-ups.)
So?
Stop worrying, put yourself out there, talk even when you’re scared to do so, and let people get to know you so they can tell you how awesome you really are.
