rewriting a narrative.

I’m thinking out loud this week with a question to myself that’s been on my mind recently:

am I actually shy?

I’ve spent most of my life trying to avoid being the center of attention, trying not to be in the spotlight, and generally wanting to disappear whenever there were a bunch of eyes on me.

My face would flush tomato red whenever I was called on in class, so much so that it was almost always commented on by someone. I would start sweating, my heart would start racing, and my hands would shake. This still happens to me in work meetings and work presentations which is simply bizarre considering I have given more presentations than I can count at this point.

I get nervous when strangers talk to me. What if I can’t keep the conversation going? What if I say the wrong thing? What if I’m awkward? And when one of those things inevitably happens, I replay the scenario in my head for hours afterwards.

I don’t like social situations where I don’t know anyone or ones where I don’t know the people very well. I always crave having a “buddy” or someone that I can fall back on in groups.

I don’t even like when people sing me “Happy Birthday.”

I’ve always just operated under the assumption that I have crippling social anxiety and it’s just something that I have to battle on a daily basis.

But recently, I’ve been wondering how much of that is actually true to my inherent being and how much of that is just social programming and conditioning that I’ve picked up over the years.

Because the thing is, I actually do like talking to people and being around people. I can remember being a little kid and absolutely loving when the attention was on me. I vividly remember making up a silly song about a “loaf of butter in my pool” at my aunt’s dinner table and relishing in the fact that everyone was looking at me and I was making them laugh. I recall dancing with absolutely no reserve in very public gazebos and staircases in my town while on walks with Mom.

(PS, if you’re interested in digging deeper into that, you can read my essay called “Dance In That Gazebo”)

So when did that change? When did I get so scared of being in the spotlight?

I don’t know that there is an answer, and that’s probably okay. I’m sure it’s the accumulation of a lot of things—always letting other people overshadow me and just getting comfortable in that shadow; not feeling like “the best” in dance classes; being told by adults that kids aren’t to be loud and noisy; and so on.

These things compounded and eventually I ended up here—believing to my core that I’m shy, that I have social anxiety, that I’m bad at talking to people, that I hate the spotlight.

I’ve been living in my comfort zone of not letting people really see me. I’ve quieted my voice in an effort to make other people comfortable and to mold to how I think other people want me to show up—which my brain has programmed to mean showing up as a “go with the flow,” quiet, non-abrasive, people-pleasing presence.

So really, the reason that social situations drain me is because I’m masking my true self and always pretending to be someone I’m not, or in an energy that I’m not. I’m in the comfort zone of molding to other people which is why I find it hard to be in the spotlight because I don’t know how to just be me in a group—especially when I don’t know the dynamics or expectations.

And the crazy thing is that I have absolutely no proof that it’s not received well when I am vulnerable and show up as myself. Each time that I do or say or post something that I think will be “risky,” it’s always met with an outpouring of love and confirmation that I’m in the right spot and doing the right thing.

So we’re unwiring this “shy” belief.

All of this came about from a conversation that I was having with some friends in one of the groups that I’m in about my Human Design “ideal environment.”

According to my Human Design, my environment type is “Kitchens,” which is representative of places where change and things are happening—where there is a creative buzz and great conversation. My energy aligns most in spaces where I am in the center of the busyness or transformation.

When I heard this, I was like, “Hell no, that’s got to be wrong.” And then I went down the rabbit hole that I just took you down, too.

And the more that I’ve explored this question with curiosity, I keep finding more and more evidence that I do thrive in places of buzz when I allow myself to be seen.

And I think other people feel a certain energy when I show up that way. Whenever I allow myself to be open to meeting new people or give space for people to approach me, they always do. I’m forever being chatted to by older folks in airplanes whenever I don’t have my headphones on. One time a woman came up to me and said that I just have a very approachable vibe. When I’m open to those interactions, they’re always a delight.

One of my favorite quotes is from Jim Loedder who said:

“love is the non-possessive delight in the unique particularity of the other.”

And I love that. And agree with it. And I can only experience the unique particularity of the other by embracing new social situations and people and open myself to new conversations and situations.

Which I’ve been doing, slowly. I just wrapped up a month and a week in a new writing community (shoutout Quill & Cup!) and the co-founder of the group hyped me up on one of our writing sessions last week about how impressed she is that I just showed up and immediately started contributing, sharing, and engaging. I didn’t act like a newbie, I just opened myself fully to the experience and the group and started trying to get to know people and make connections.

It’s hard, intentional work for me to do that. But it really does feel like a coming home to myself each time I allow myself to be in the spotlight.

Because I don’t think I am shy. And I think it’s time I gave myself a new label.

community-craver. open book. authentic presence. spotlight sharer.

Those feel better to me.

what narrative are you rewriting?