Anxiety: Magnifying Catastrophizing Snow Balling Mind
Do I Have an Anxious Mind? If the title above resonates with you, it’s likely that your mind is no stranger to relentless thoughts and constant “what...
Many of my clients are often surprised to discover that I experience social anxiety. Watching my videos or listening to me speak, you'd probably never guess that being around groups of unfamiliar people can feel overwhelming. But the truth is, social anxiety is a part of my life—one that I’ve learned to recognize, manage, and continuously challenge.
There’s a common assumption that knowing better means doing better. It’s a comforting idea, but unfortunately, it isn’t that simple. Knowing something intellectually is entirely different from learning how to apply it. It reminds me of reading a book about brain surgery—reading gives you an understanding, but executing it is an entirely different process. Similarly, understanding social anxiety doesn’t mean you can instantly overcome it. It takes repeated practice, intentional effort, and a lot of patience.
Over the years, I’ve become familiar with the situations that trigger my social anxiety. These moments can feel like small battles, yet they also offer growth opportunities. Here are some of the triggers that stand out most for me and for many of the clients I’ve worked with:
Whether it’s athletic competitions, musical performances, public speaking, work presentations, or even as simple as asking questions in a classroom setting, these scenarios make me feel exposed. Public speaking remains one of my toughest triggers—it terrifies me to the point where I feel frozen. The pressure to perform and be observed can turn excitement into dread.
This one recently happened to me at an event. Even though I knew the people there, I started shaking; then, as I noticed the shaking, I became even more anxious. It’s classic “anxiety about the anxiety,” a self-reinforcing cycle that can feel impossible to break at the moment.
Many people with social anxiety struggle with small talk. It’s not engaging enough to distract from anxious thoughts, so you remain hyperaware of your discomfort. Over years of exposure and intentional effort, I’ve grown better at managing this one, but there are still moments where the anxiety resurfaces.
Dating can feel like an intimate performance—two people sitting across from each other, making conversation, sharing, connecting. It’s deeply personal, yet it can invoke the anxiety of small talk combined with the spotlight effect of being wholly focused on by someone else.
Teens who attend therapy often share this as a common fear that leads to academic barriers. They hesitate to ask for help and overwork assignments to overcompensate, leading to unnecessary stress.
This feels like another performance. Eyes on you, judgments you imagine others might be making—it’s all part of the social anxiety package.
Yes, even this can be anxiety-inducing. Known medically as paruresis or “shy bladder,” it reflects the same performance anxiety that underlines many social anxiety triggers.
For the longest time, I forgot I even had social anxiety—it simply wasn’t a factor in my day-to-day life. I had worked hard to navigate it over the years, and for the most part, it felt like a distant memory. However, facilitating classes served as a stark reminder. It hit me like an old foe showing up unannounced, completely catching me off guard and forcing me to confront it once again.
The visceral nature of social anxiety is what makes it so disorienting. It’s not just about thinking anxious thoughts; it’s an experience that takes over your entire body. There I was, standing in a room filled with familiar faces—people I knew and trusted—yet my body reacted as though I were in imminent danger. My hands shook uncontrollably, my heart raced in my chest, and my breathing felt shallow and labored. My mind tried to reason with me—there was no logical threat, no real reason to feel this way—but my body didn’t care. The physical symptoms were relentless, and for those moments, it felt like I was completely at their mercy.
What’s most difficult about social anxiety is that it can feel like a betrayal of all the progress you’ve made. I had spent years building confidence, practicing exposure techniques, and gaining tools to manage situations like this, and yet here it was again, as overwhelming as ever. It’s easy to feel discouraged in moments like these, to believe that you’re back at square one. But I’ve learned that’s not the case. Social anxiety may sideline you temporarily, but it doesn’t erase the foundation you’ve built through practice and persistence.
I had to pause, take a deep breath, and remind myself of the tools I’ve gathered over the years. I focused on grounding techniques, clenching and relaxing my hands to regain control over the tremors. I slowed my breathing, counting in and out to calm my racing heart. And I reminded myself that this feeling, as intense as it was, would pass. It always passes.
Like riding a bike, the skills you’ve developed eventually come back to you when you need them. It’s not about never feeling anxious again—it’s about knowing that you have the strength and knowledge to face it when it arises. Social anxiety is an old foe for me, one that reappears from time to time, but each time it does, I’m reminded of how far I’ve come. And in those moments, I can see my progress more clearly than ever.
Part of my social anxiety comes from being sensitive to others. I can read emotions and unspoken cues—whether it’s someone’s level of openness, judgments (sometimes of themselves), or their disinterest in the conversation. These perceptions, though not always accurate, amplify my anxiety.
Interestingly, this sensitivity doesn’t show up in my therapy sessions. When I’m in the role of therapist, my focus shifts entirely to my clients, making my office a safe and comfortable place for me. However, in personal settings where I want to be vulnerable, playful, and authentic, that anxious energy can creep back in.
Avoidance is one of the most tempting reactions to social anxiety, but it’s a trap. While it may feel like a temporary solution, it only reinforces the cycle, creating more fear in the long run. My philosophy? Lean into fear, not away from it. Face the thing that scares you, even if it’s uncomfortable.
This approach is rooted in Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP), a technique I’ve learned from my clients with OCD. Watching them face their fears time and time again has been nothing short of inspiring.
Through repeated exposure, we teach our brains that we are safe, even in situations that feel overwhelming. This learning process is not about “white-knuckling” through fear—it’s about practicing patience and self-compassion.
After what felt like several failed attempts where my social anxiety got in the way of my class performance, I finally had a successful class! It’s such a relief to see progress after feeling stuck for so long. Exposure and Response Prevention (ERP) really does work, but wow, it took a lot of effort and many challenging classes to get there. It hasn’t been easy, but sticking with it is starting to pay off, and I’m feeling more hopeful about managing my anxiety moving forward.
Through years of personal experience and professional practice, I’ve gathered actionable tools to manage social anxiety. Here are some that I use and recommend:
Avoid avoiding. Each invite is an opportunity to learn.
The more you do it, the less power it holds over you.
Write out scripts to address specific anxiety-inducing scenarios. This one is my favorite. It lets us know what the story of the fear is.
Develop a script reminding yourself that your worth isn’t tied to perfection. There are self-compassion meditations as well.
Stay present to avoid rehearsing, anticipatory anxiety, or post-event rumination.
Use DBT’s acting opposite strategies to radiate confidence, even when you don’t feel it.
Prepare emotionally for social gatherings with compassion-centered practices.
Trusted loved ones or a therapist can make all the difference.
Trauma work has a powerful way of transforming the underlying experiences or events that may be contributing to this anxiety. By addressing and processing these past traumas, individuals can gain a deeper understanding of their emotions, break free from negative patterns, and begin to heal, creating space for a more peaceful and balanced present.
Neurodiversity may contribute to your social anxiety. Sensory differences, ADHD, or Autism could play a role in these challenges. This isn’t a flaw or something “wrong” with you, but it’s important to recognize that it’s not always as straightforward as overcoming a fear through desensitization. In some cases, these neurological differences create additional hurdles that make it more difficult to navigate social situations.
It’s easy to view anxiety as a permanent house guest, but I see it as a lifelong learning opportunity. Just as I conquered other fears—heights, for example—by walking across bridges and ziplining, I approach social anxiety with the same determination. I now can do public speaking sometimes with anxiety and sometimes without anxiety. This is what learning looks like.
It’s not about erasing fear altogether; it’s about learning to live alongside it and grow stronger in the process. Self-compassion is the foundation for change. If any of this resonates with you, know that you’re not alone. Reach out—whether it’s to loved ones, a supportive community, or a therapist who understands social anxiety.
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