I hate large crowds. Actually, that’s not exactly true; I hate putting myself in front of large crowds. If I am able to become a minuscule part of a large crowd and be anonymous, I’m fine. No problem. If no one is expecting anything of me, I have no trouble blending in to the larger group. I do fine at lectures and concerts. I don’t get claustrophobic around people. If I’m expected to reach out and meet people, however-- or worse yet-- speak in front of them, then I become so anxiety-ridden that the cliché of butterflies in your stomach does not even begin to explain the feeling I will have THREE WEEKS before I am supposed to put myself out there in front of everyone.
This is likely the point where you would say, “Hey. Wait a minute—you blog. Oh, and don’t you also teach classes as part of your job?” And the answer to both of those questions is yes. I do. I blog, but that is me, projecting myself out from a computer, and the classes I teach also happen to be online. I have no problem with this (other than feeling as if I am not living up to expectations, but more on that anxiety some other time) because my computer and I are very close. We’re like THIS (imagine my fingers crossing here). We’re tight. I feel as if I could blather on to my computer all day and night.
I do fine in one-on-one settings and even with small groups. I do fine with people I’ve known for any extended period of time. In fact, I can blather on to one person or a few people endlessly—to the point of making my computer jealous. I view myself as a furtive extrovert.
I just can’t walk into a crowd where I know virtually no one and be expected to meet new people on my own. I’ve been asked to join groups and book clubs and things along those lines, and although I desperately want to meet new people and try new things, I can never actually convince myself to go and do it. I need a very precocious wing-man, but you can’t always expect one to be available.
Now that I think of it, I am usually drawn to people who are incredibly precocious…
As of late, I feel as if this is really limiting myself. On Twitter this week I see all of these ladies talking about attending blog conferences this summer, and the one they’re attending this weekend in NOLA. I would love to be there. I’ve an interest in attending some blogging conferences, and learning more about what others are doing and the resources available. I absolutely love New Orleans, and would welcome any trip down there. I don’t know if I will ever be able to bring myself to go. The whole idea of walking into a place alone and trying to make friends not only makes me nauseated—It makes my heart beat so rapidly at the thought of it that I can actually feel the pressure of my pulse behind my eyes.
So I stay home, and knock myself for being a wimp. That is, until I read some of the tweets posted this week by The Bloggess, who apparently also suffers from some anxiety at conferences. At first I couldn’t believe it—she has anxiety? She’s scared of walking into a room alone, too? This cannot be true. Can it really be true?
Here is where I have to mention I have a bit of a blog crush going on. In the least non-stalker way possible, I promise. She’s funny, and she says the things that I often think in my head, but never have the guts to say aloud. In fact, I’ve shared her blog in recent weeks with my co-workers, and much to their surprise, they’ve gotten a glimpse into the inner workings of my mind via my taste in blogs.
Lesson: It’s always the quiet ones, folks.
So now I have dreams of hiding out in hotel rooms, avoiding conference sessions, and conspiring against the fearless with The Bloggess. I asked her via Twitter if she would hide with me if I were to ever muster up the courage to attend a conference. I don’t know exactly how I should go about convincing her that I am not some crazed psychopath, but I am going to try. Also, I am going to ignore the possibility that the reason she fears stepping outside her hotel room door is because of people she doesn’t actually know in real life wanting to hang out with her all of time. Yeah. It’s not THAT. It can’t be.
All kidding aside, her tweets did make me realize something important: If she feels this anxiety when going to conferences—despite the popularity of her blog, and the length of time she’s been at it—then maybe there is hope for me. Maybe I can go to a conference and make myself walk into that room alone. Maybe I can—in a controlled setting—muster up the courage to meet new people and experience something completely outside the realm of my current reality.
And if not, I can always hide in my hotel room until it’s over. Which should have really crossed my mind before now.
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