social anxiety – The Bashful Butterfly

Each Sunday I wake up with the same tightness in my chest; the thought of going to church is supposed to encourage and uplift my spirit. The church I currently attend laudes itself as “the fellowship of believers” or the “God’s family”. The culture thrives on intimate connection through Christ, which is 100% biblical. The church leaders expect us to be immersed in each other’s lives, no boundaries and with complete trust. Almost every Sunday service there’s a member tearfully expressing how much they are grateful for the body of believers. The scripture often quoted comes from Matthew 13:44 “The Kingdom of Heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought the field( NIV Version)”.

I sit in silence as church goers weave right past me. This is the part of the service called “The Fellowship break” where eager congregation members huddle, all smiles and hugs. I watch as women in flowery dresses squeal in delight as they approach another sister (in Christ). I watch brothers (in Christ) fist bump and bro hug. The cacophony of conversations swirls all around me and one part of my brain begs “Get up, go say hi to someone. This is why you’re lonely and don’t feel connected. You’re not trying”. Then the dominant, insecure part of my brain retorts “I told you we don’t belong here. No matter how hard she tries, she’s never going to feel connected. We’ll always be on the outside”.

A close friend of mine point blank asked me “I wonder if you really value the Kingdom” (the members of the congregation). The more I ponder that question (and she asked me this almost a year ago), the more I find myself wrestling with the requirement of being bonded with a single fellowship. Naturally, I’m an introvert and coupled with social anxiety creates a cocktail of overwhelming feelings when I go to church for various “meetings of the body”.

Instead of experiencing encouragement and love, I am ready to leave as soon as I get to the 3rd floor of the building where the service is held. Sweaty palms, fuzzy head and blurry vision I take my seat. Instead of clapping and bouncing along to the sounds of worship, all I experience is a hollow heartache. I wonder why I decided to come back after leaving the Church in May of 2021. It seems the more I try to connect with members, the more the emptiness and disconnect increases.

My therapist attributes my social anxiety to the fact that I purposely made myself a wallflower to protect myself from being hurt by others. She said “You’re not used to putting yourself out there and initiating conversations. Oftentimes you’re going to have to make the first move”.

There are times when I make an effort to connect with the women of the church. I smile, make small talk, but then the conversation stalls or feels too forced, inauthentic. In fact, I often feel like I have to put on a facade, conform to the person the people in the fellowship want me to be ; gregarious, talkative, peppy. Sometimes I feel like I have to be someone else to be accepted, to be chosen to participate in service or just plain seen.

There’s a quote from one of my favorite movies “The Breakfast Club” (John Hughes, 1985). Andrew, the jock, says to John Bender, the trouble maker, “You know, Bender, you don’t even count. I mean if you disappeared forever it wouldn’t make a difference. You may as well not even exist in this school”.

That sums up how I can view myself in the context of the church I attend. Invisible. Overlooked. There’s a desperation and longing to experience the same fellowship that is so praised by the church leaders and members. But I don’t. And there are many times I don’t think I ever will.

Then I think of Jesus, how I belong to Him once I said “Jesus is Lord”. John 1:12 “Yet to all who received Him, to those who believed in His name, he became the right to become children of God”. I may be one of God’s shier sheep, but I have to remember “The Lord is God. It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, the sheep of His pasture”(Psalm 100:3).

Another important point is to know that I am not the only person who struggles with social anxiety, loneliness or feeling invisible. It can be hard to admit these struggles in an environment where instant bonding is celebrated. I’m reminded to pray and seek out those who are overlooked.

One challenge I literally just gave myself as I conclude this post is for next Sunday; find someone who is sitting alone, who isn’t engaging in conversation and just say hello. We have a God who sees us even when people look right past us. I am 1000% guilty of staying in my bubble, too afraid to move when someone is feeling the exact way I am. Sometimes my I get so caught up in my owns thoughts, I need to have eyes like Jesus, able to see the Zacchaeuses longing to be seen from the treetops (Luke 19:1-2)

I’m grateful to be able to write about this topic. Social anxiety, loneliness and the persistent feeling of being left out may not be the most comfortable topic within a church. It requires examination internally and externally. My prayer is that all those who feel like I do know how much God loves and cares for each of us. As much as I would like to at times , we are not meant to live life alone. God created Eve for Adam because He knew it wasn’t good for anyone to be alone. Perhaps one day the connections will come. For now, I’ll fix my eyes on Jesus, because I know He calls me friend.

And with a friend like Jesus, who can ever be lonely?

With Love,

Leah

“Everything negative — pressure, challenges — is all an opportunity for me to rise.” _Kobe Bryant

I was unsure how to begin my first blogging post on “The Bashful Butterfly”. I sat staring at a blank google document trying to come up with a snappy, witty opening line. Dozens of ideas raced through my head and but did not transfer to my keyboard. One of my goals for 2020 is to regularly post on a blog. “The Bashful Butterfly” will be my 3rd attempt at blogging. I posted to my previous blogs sporadically; years went by without a post. Part of the long stretches stemmed from changing life circumstances, disinterest in writing, low self-confidence and the pesky comparison bug that has spread throughout the 2010s.

I read blogs from influencers who amassed thousands of followers. I saw pristine pictures accompanying poignant prose. I thought to myself, “No one wants to hear what I have to say” or “I can’t write like (insert blogger name)”. I spent years daydreaming of the stories, personal anecdotes and random musings I wanted to put out on the blogging sphere. I became trapped in the labyrinth of unrealized dreams of my “writer life”. Jet setting across the world, writing about my experiences seeing world wonders, snapping pictures of myself in front of the Great Pyramids, the Serengenti, or in the middle of jostling energy of Tokyo.

Then somewhere in my mid to late twenties, I abandoned my aspirations of starting the writer’s journey. Ages 23-27 were a blur of moves to cities in the southern United States, hopping from job to job, firings from jobs, and a life in genuine disarray.

I decided I was exhausted of the zig-zag my life manifested into. If writing wasn’t my destiny, then I needed to be an adult. No more fantasizing about living the life of a scribe. I needed a career. Security. Income. Health insurance.

I became a ninth grade English teacher.

Teaching provides me with the security and an honorable profession. I am able to share my love of literature and writing with spunky fourteen year olds (although my enthusiasm often does not transfer to them). Yet, I feel a tug, a call to share my story. The excitement of writing never left me. I wake up with my heart longing to begin the day with a fresh document on Microsoft word. Instead, I grab my laptop I use for school, folders with ungraded student work (due to my penchant for procrastination ), and lesson plans. My brain nods in approval, “finally, she’s making wise choices”. My heart says “But, why does she feel a pit in her stomach each morning she walks out her apartment?” The brain says “She needs health insurance”. The heart retorts “She needs to write”.

And thus here I am. Here to take you on the zany adventures (which mostly take place my noggin) of a socially awkward thirty year old Christian woman. The more I type, the more my mind floods with anecdotes of growing up with a autistic brother, being bullied from grade school until I graduated high school, being raised by introverted, socially awkward parents, life with generalized anxiety disorder, depression, and life as a teacher.

Oh, did I mention I was a Christian, aka a disciple of the awesome Jesus Christ?

If I want to be a writer, then I need to write. No more excuses. No more comparisons. No more doubts. No more succumbing the pesky procrastination bug.

I have to write, because if I don’t, then I have neglected to use the gift God has blessed me with. The apostle Peter was on his “A” game when he said in I Peter 4:10 “As each has received a gift, use it to serve one another, as good stewards of God’s varied grace”.

My hope is for my words to encourage young women who walk through life invisible. Who feel like no one sees them or they have no place in God’s kingdom. My words are for women who lived most of their lives blending in to walls, who were passed by unnoticed, longed for friendship yet were too timid and insecure to pursue it.

2020 has started off tumultuous. Wildfires, earthquakes, deadly viruses and the deaths of cultural icons. If there was ever a time to start grinding on our dreams, the time is now.

Thank you all who have read and I am thrilled to share my voyage with everyone who reads “The Bashful Butterfly”. Maybe you’ll laugh (Oh, what wit she has!) . Maybe you’ll tear up (Oh, this touches my soul!) or maybe you’ll scratch your head (what the heck was this girl thinking when she wrote this post??).

Whichever thought crosses your mind, I am grateful for.

Stay blessed folks.

Signed,

The Bashful Butterfly