Other people are hard when you have anxiety
the 8 cruel ironies of needing people, but also not being able to cope with them
If you’ve read my book about anxiety, First, We Make the Beast Beautiful, you might recall I list a bunch of “cruel ironies” inherent in the anxious experience. A few people have mentioned them in comments about the place recently, so I thought I’d open up a conversation about the phenomenon, starting by laying out the ironies in one spot. Feel free to chime in, disagree or whatever…I’m sure everyone here will appreciate the engagement.
The book is now translated into many languages, including Lithuanian, French, Hungarian, Chinese, South Korean, Persian and, as of next year, Spanish. If you’ve not read the book, you can get hold of it here. And you can get a feel for it here.
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Anyway, these “cruel ironies” are a bunch of weird contradictions, paradoxes and baffling inconsistencies that describe an anxious person’s need for people and their simultaneous inability to cope with said people. When our heads are spiralling and every bit of stimulation affronts our senses and we just don’t know where to head. So we often push away the very thing we need. Ironic. Cruel.
In the book, I introduce the concept off the back of a chapter describing the time I had a massive (almost suicidal) anxiety attack while in Hawaii with “The Life Natural”1. He’d got up and left and went out drinking with his surf mates. Which I don’t judge him for. It was not an easy time.
I think it’s worth acknowledging the Paradox of Other People (POOP?). Other people present another bundle of needs and thoughts and considerations to add to the goat rodeo going on in our heads. And they can get in the way of our control-freaky attempts to contain our anxiety when it starts to spiral, causing all kinds of cruel ironies for all involved. It’s worth mentioning that, back in Hawaii, shortly after the Life Natural left, I splashed my face with water, pulled on jeans and went downstairs to the piano bar. I sat with a glass of red wine, wrote things out on a paper napkin, and chatted about love to the bar manager. Without the intense pressure of, and responsibility for, ‘the other’, without someone else’s confusion screaming at me when I just need someone to sit with me calmly, I could come in close and do what I know works to cope. All of which made no sense to the Life Natural when I explained later.
I then go on to explain the first Cruel Irony…
Cruel Irony #1: The anxious tend to seek solitude, yet we simultaneously crave connection.
When I’m anxious every part of me wants to extract myself from other humans. I don’t show up to things. I move to remote areas, away from everyone I know. I pack up and leave states, continents, relationships. I want to save them from the drama that is ‘me’. But the irony is, few things fuel my anxiety like being left alone with the buzz. If a friend cancels because she can’t get a babysitter, I take this as social rejection. To me it’s a sign that I’m a cosmic pain in the ass and that everyone is fed up with me and I don’t fit and nothing makes sense. The very gist of why I jitter is the need to know I belong, that I fit.
Cruel Irony #2: We need easy-going people, but they can be our undoing.
We love easy-going folk. They can ride with our stuff. And they can be great teachers in the art of releasing a white-knuckled grip on life. But they can also tend to flake, and not realise what a big deal their flakiness is for someone for whom uncertainty can be their undoing. They can also defer too heavily to control-freaky anxious types. ‘I don’t mind, you decide,’ they say. Which is lovely and easy-going, but also very challenging when you’re organising dinner for five such easy-going types and you’re wobbly and, oh goodness, it all starts to tumble.
Cruel Irony #3: We cope with strangers better than our own mates when we’re anxious.
I think this is because around loved ones we feel so bloody responsible and guilty and hyper-aware of our inconsistencies and neurotic needs. It’s exhausting being that apologetic. In contrast, being polite and attentive with the old lady at the bus stop is like a job we must attend to. We busy ourselves with it. And this can distract us.
Cruel Irony #4: We may come across as extroverted, but we have social anxiety.
I can stand on a stage talking to thousands of people. I can do live TV without having a conniption. Again, it’s partly that I cope better with strangers. Plus, it’s a job I have to attend to. I rise to the challenge. Like a chef I put on an apron, removing it once the shift is over. But if it’s an everyday human experience that you’re ‘meant’ to enjoy, like a party, Lord help me. I liked this from Glennon Doyle Melton who has to be physically alone to cope with her anxiety, even though she connects emotionally with her readers constantly:
“Now, please understand that it is important for me to appreciate humanity and all those lovely humans who make up humanity from a comfortable distance. Because, close up, they all tend to make me quite nervous and often, annoyed . . . I am tired and socially anxious, so going to parties and showers and things such as this where I might actually be forced to sit next to and talk to humanity is really out of the question. So, I learn about love and humanity through books.”
Cruel Irony #5: We can talk coherently and rationally about our anxiety, even joke about it, yet we freak out on a regular basis.
This is a cruel irony that affects our loved ones heavily. This explanation might explain the apparent contradiction. Anxious thoughts, apparently, have more pull in the brain than knowledge thoughts, so sensible facts and data go out the window when we’re panicking.
Cruel Irony #6: We seem doggedly set in our ways, but we have no idea what we want.
Our stubborn adherence to things (habits, rules, controlling triggers) is not based on a righteous sense that we are doing the right thing. Golly, no. We’re flimsily coping, albeit with a white-knuckled grip. As I share in a later chapter, our anxiety leaves us totally unable to decide between competing preferences. If you’re an anxious person’s loved one, feel free to be firm telling your anxious mate what you want when they’re in a spiral. They’ll respect your preferences and respond well to the certainty. It’s sweet relief. (And if you’re an anxious person, accept this truth and go with a loved one’s preference when they present it. That’s the deal.)
Cruel Irony #7: We look strong and controlling. But we actually need others’ help more than most.
My control-freaky behaviour creates the impression that I have everything sorted and, frankly, scares most people from wanting to approach me to offer assistance, even when I’ve gone AWOL or am standing in front of them, screaming out for help. The psychiatrist I was seeing while writing this book pointed out to me that I even micro-manage how I receive help from loved ones. Which makes loved ones feel kind of redundant. And, yet, it’s right at these precise moments I so desperately want someone to step in and convincingly take care of the planet for a bit. It’s just that I can’t correct my neurotic ways in time.
Cruel Irony #8: We’re always thinking about everyone (and everything), but we’re so damn selfish.
I truly hate this about my anxiety. It can make me so terribly self-absorbed. I forget birthdays or don’t have the energy or creativity to buy a present. And, yet, I wish I could explain that in my anxious moments I actually care more about the welfare of others than myself. Plane phobics are most concerned about their kids. Obsessive-compulsives are often scared that if, for example, they don’t wash their hands, a loved one will die. Oh, it’s all just so hard for everyone, isn’t it!
Oh yeah, isn’t it! But in the understanding of such complexities, we “make the beast beautiful”.
What do you reckon?
Sarah xx
The partner I had for about a year while writing the book. We also got pregnant during this time. His gyotaku print of an octopus features on the cover of the book, reversed out, in flouro pink!
I relate to so many of these and I don’t think anyone would generally think I was anxious. I did an exercise once - I think it may have been part of a personal development course (did so many as I always felt I was lacking/broken until one day I realised I was a highly sensitive introvert, I wasn’t broken - I had been comparing myself to neurotypical extroverts 🙄).
I had to ask people I knew to describe me in 3 words. The most common word was strong.
I am strong because I have to be. I don’t see another option. If I let go, how do I hold a job and pay for things?
I am in #1 a lot these days. I am living away from my friends right now looking after someone’s property. I love the solitude but realised after my mental health went down that I need the connection. It’s not something I realise until it’s ‘too late’ and I am in connection deficit. I can’t spot the connection battery draining until it’s flat. 😜
I have had recent conversations about #2 and people flaking when it’s really important for me to connect. Sometimes so last minute that I can’t organise something else. They have no idea how much I need that connection. I never say I am anxious and NEED something. I am never NEEDY. I don’t want to acknowledge the NEED.
And like you, I am seen as #4 extroverted. People often won’t believe I am introverted as I can perform and talk to an audience. I can also talk at work. But I cannot talk at parties. I was at one on Saturday. My first in a very long time. A special 60th. I made the effort. It was HARD. Noisy. I wore earplugs. And I was so socially hungover the next day that my body hurt all over.
That’s enough about me.
Look forward to reading everyone else’s comments.
Yes. Oh yes the irony. It makes you cry laughing. Number 5 is a constant conversation I have with my doctor who has taken years to realise that I really do have a big problem!! It was good to re-read this again Sarah. It’s funny. I always look forward to when my husband goes away for work for a night or two - I can do whatever I want! Hooray! No talking, just MMEE! But halfway through his absence things turn to shit and I get very edgy and my old bad habits raise their ugly heads. I hate it and can’t wait for him to come home again!! AND YET, he is scheduled to go away next weekend and I cannot WAIT to be alone again... 😳
cruel irony. And adhd memory 😂 BUT the other thing is I COULD NOT live without my anxiety. It’s reliable, dependable, trustworthy. Even if it does overreact sometimes. It’s mine and I love it....and I think “The Beast” did that for me. Sending love to you all!! 💜🐙