In my last entry, I wrote about my experiences attending a weekend retreat with my family. Apparently the challenge was more than I bargained for, as my hopes of connecting with the other participants were dashed.

Of course this failure is my fault and due to both bad habits and lack of openness. I had previously highlighted the age difference between myself and the others (the retreat was populated with single twenty-somethings), and how this perception limited my willingness to make any contact. Now, in an objective sense, we were kind of mismatched with the group (I should have enquired about the retreat more with the organizers rather than blindly assuming it would be like the last one). So there is a reality of sorts in expressing some of these challenges. Nevertheless, I could have been more open and done more to engage with others, rather than just assuming they would dismiss me as an old man.

To focus on my social interactions, it felt like I was constantly making mistakes in my utterances. Not in my speech but rather saying the wrong things. This is a common issue. When social anxiety envelopes me, I lose the ability to stay calm and focused. This leads me to sometimes say things that either bore people to death or, much worse, insult them.

For example, the hotel was owned by a young husband-wife team who had become Buddhist through their travels to Tibet. They seemed to be an open, friendly couple and I certainly felt no inhibition in talking with them. During the first dinner, they sat down next to me and I felt sufficiently familiar with them to start the conversation by asking something along the lines of how things were going (in German). I did it because I knew they were native German speakers and they spoke it with each other (sometimes here in Europe I jump into a conversation among people by initially speaking their language if I know it). Unfortunately, the phrase I used (“Alles im Griff?”) was a poor choice for the situation, as it implies they (as hotel owners) are somewhat overwhelmed. Actually, I had the impression the wife was somewhat overwhelmed by her duties, but my utterance seemed to make it stand out. I immediately regretted what I had said, especially when she asked if she had understood me correctly!

This is the familiar pattern of my life; when nervous, I usually utter something a little too transparent and bring shame upon myself. Had I been more sensitive, more discerning of the situation, I would have never said such a thing, but instead would have found a more tactful phrase. The biggest problem though, is not the utterance itself (which causes embarassment) but the fact it tends to poison my ongoing relationship with the new person. This means that, when I’m uncomfortable and utter such a faux pas, any budding relationship seems to wither and die on the vine.

Surfing emotion

My problem has always been my impulsiveness, or lack of control over sudden outbursts. As a child, I was always in the principal’s office for disciplinary action. I could never contain my outbursts as the other kids could: suddenly uttering bad words for example. As the situation above shows, my experience as an adult is little different.

In one of her videos, Dr. Sandra Parker talks about impulsiveness and coming to an understanding with oneself. This is the most coherent and useful prescription I have ever heard for my problem. She says, it’s like learning to surf a wave. You “ride it out” without taking action, even as the wave (of emotion) crests and ebbs. Taking action could be saying or doing something based on impulse or reaction to the negative feelings of anxiety or fear. Her mantra is “to have and to hold” and she often refers to holding on and clutching rising emotion throughout its spontaneous growth and disappearance in situations. She says until you reach the end of the wave, action won’t be fruitful. It will be more effective afterwards, where your response (or action) will be far more appropriate - after having registered or digested the emotions.

So, replaying the situation with the hotel couple, perhaps it would have been beneficial to have waited before answering. The problem is that social anxiety tends to dominate me rather than the other way around. Upon noticing when they took seats next to me, the thoughts going through my mind were What can I say to start a good conversation? As I tend to become dumb and slow in social settings, and particularly with strangers, I’m desperately grabbing at straws to find something, whether it’s witty or intelligent, to give a good impression of myself in order to generate interest in me.

It’s of course one thing to know a goal to reach; it’s another thing entirely to learn what it takes to reach it. And I feel like an old dog who can’t be taught new tricks. Or rather, I’ve tried just about everything to control my impulses. As a child I learned the art of self-discipline and to manually (and then unconsciously) check each and every thought before it reached my mouth. This probably bent my personality to become a quiet and fearful person. And of course it fucked me all up; I know it now.

Later in life, I need to somehow reset it. Or at least, to learn to not act reflexively on impulses but instead to let them simmer. Had I sat at that table with the hotel owner-couple and could practice this “surfing,” how would I have instead reacted? I probably would have come across as an even slower person, one who thinks before he talks (that’s how I am anyway of course). I probably would have sensed better my own nervousness and anxiety; perhaps I would have been able to create a better picture of myself and what my mind/body was going through. Somehow my anxiety is linked to my fear and intense insecurity of how others will perceive me. Learning to just ride the wave of emotion means I must disregard this fear and put priority and energy on my perceptions of internal turbulence rather than pleasing others through my wit and charm (which often seems to fail).

However, my fears are emotions that are deeply ingrained since childhood and as I write these words, I feel a kind of hopelessness about the task at hand (it’s like asking me to scale a very high but smooth wall with only my hands and feet).