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“I don’t know, I guess I’m just socially awkward,” my 22-year-old patient said with a shrug.
“You’re really not,” I said with a laugh—a laugh I couldn’t stop from coming out of my mouth.
I had been seeing David for about three months before quarantine hit, and once it did, we continued our sessions via teletherapy and increased session therapy to twice a week. David is polite, well-mannered, smart, and somewhat of a mama’s boy, since his parents divorced when he was 2 years old and for most of his upbringing he was the so-called “man of the house.” He prides himself on this, and he knows how fortunate he is to have the close relationship with his mother that he does.
He is also a good-looking kid. Dark hair, well-groomed facial scruff, noteworthy blue eyes.
He doesn’t drink too much—ever—doesn’t do drugs—ever—and is the epitome of the best friend in the PG-13 movie who the popular girl eventually realizes she is in love with.
But, he doesn’t put himself out there—literally or figuratively. He would never dream of approaching a girl in a bar or in a class or asking for someone’s number after they hit it off at a coffee shop.
“No, it’s true, I’m just socially awkward,” he insists.
Donna loves British humor, historical biographies, Harry Potter, and anything related to cocker spaniels. She is a 28-year-old paralegal with a solid group of friends she has acquired at various stops along her road to adulthood. Donna has had one boyfriend, and when the relationship ended after three years—Donna left with more of his friends than he did.
She is sort of ready to date. Sort of.
“But, I’m really socially awkward,” she insists with a laugh, as though this were not only fact, but a shared fact that we had determined long ago, when she first started therapy.
Almost a year ago to date, I started seeing Donna after her breakup, and Donna is often the highlight of my day. She occasionally will send me memes she finds funny (and I do as well), and she is the only person I know who appreciates Venn Diagram humor as much as I do.
But, when I encourage Donna to consider returning to the dating world, either via apps or simply taking advantage of the men she meets through her many friends, her answer is always the same: “See, the thing is, I’m pretty awkward. Socially. Not a lot of people get me, and so a dating app … it just seems like the wrong place for me.”
“But—"
“Fine, maybe I’m just not ready yet,” she cuts me off, apparently trying to out-shrink this shrink.
Let’s take a pause, here.
Thanks to the current state of social distancing, we are all a little socially awkward right now. If you’re not walking around in a Hazmat suit, then you’re stuck trying to estimate the required six to ten feet distance in a non-creepy way. And if you are walking around in a Hazmat suit, you have absolutely left non-creepy status far, far behind.
And if you’re like the rest of us, just somewhere in the middle between total denial and full-blown panic, you’re probably feeling kinda awkward in social situations.
Hey, did you hear what I just did? Did you hear what I just said?
Right now, you may feel awkward in social situations. Because this current social situation is weird, and unfamiliar, and awkward as—something that wouldn’t sound super-professional in such a reputable publication as this one.
But, there is a difference between being socially awkward and feeling socially awkward in certain situations.
People who are socially awkward make others feel uncomfortable in their presence. Do you tell off-color, sexist, or racist jokes? Do you hog the spotlight? Or talk too loudly? Or change the subject at oddly-timed intervals, which causes everyone in earshot to take a sip of their beer and hope that someone else finishes their sip first?
People who are socially awkward make other people feel uncomfortable. They don’t feel uncomfortable themselves. People who are socially awkward aren’t aware that they are, in fact, awkward. They aren’t aware that their words or actions or tone or appearance goes against the grain in such a way that is against the established social norms or standards.
So, what are social norms?
Norms are unwritten rules about what is socially acceptable in any given group, in any given time. For example, laughing at a joke, or poking fun at a close friend while hanging out at a bar is harmless. Laughing at a funeral, or poking fun at a close friend while his sister’s casket is being lowered into a grave—not so harmless, and, for the most part, totally unacceptable.
As an aside, my own funeral should be filled with laughter and single-malt whiskey, but those who attend will be informed in writing about my expectations. Norms, however, are rarely issued in writing, but rather in stern, disapproving glances, rude comments, or at worst, isolation of the offender.
Norms are cultural patterns, which means what is appropriate in one part of the world, may not be appropriate in another part of the world, for example, bowing in Japan is a form of saying hello, goodbye, I’m sorry, asking for a favor, or saying congratulations. Bowing in the United States…not so much.
Cultural patterns also change over time, which means that the once ever-so-common handshake, fist bump, or kiss (or double-kiss) on the cheek may no longer be a norm in the post-COVID-19 world.
If you are socially awkward, as so many of you like to profess, it means that you are ignorant or insensitive to appropriate, accepted behavior as it relates to time, place, and people. Or, it means that you purposely defy group norms out of a need for attention, or a desire to rebel. Clinically, your lack of ability to conform to social norms might be the result of a spectrum diagnosis or narcissism or Oppositional Defiant Disorder or maybe, a desperate attempt to gain more attention from your peers.
(Psst, odds are, if the latter is your conscious or subconscious attempt, it’s gonna backfire.)
So, what’s option number two?
You just feel awkward in social situations. You are convinced that people perceive you as being socially awkward because … you feel socially awkward.
What’s the difference between being socially awkward and feeling socially awkward? Diction. Word choice. And also, perception.
Odds are, you don’t come across as awkward to your friends and acquaintances, you come across as quiet, or shy, nervous, or insecure. And guess what? You can change yourself a lot easier than you can change other people’s perceptions. Stop telling yourself, your therapist, and your mother that you are “socially awkward.”
Now, let’s get started:
1. You simply are not as important as you think you are. Yes, yes, I get that this is a direct contradiction with that whole insecurity/low self-esteem thing, but it is also fact. Most people are much more consumed with their own issues, their own presentation, and their own—pardon my language, but, crap—to judge your minor norm infractions.
2. No one expects you to be perfect. Or near perfect. And if they do have the nerve to silently, or aloud, comment on your minor flaws, it is most likely a blatant attempt to highlight your negatives, rather than expose their own.
3. No one falls in love with someone because they are perfect. In fact, we fall in love with people because of their flaws, not despite them. When I first met my husband, I quickly realized that he had the loudest sneeze I had ever heard. Also, he always sneezed in three’s. And yes, yes, in a pathetic, cheesy, I-advise-my-patients-against-this-all-the-time happenstance, I knew for certain that this was the man I was going to marry. And the fact that I could tolerate his loud trio of sneezes—that sealed the deal.
So, stop aiming for perfection. It’s artificial and false and the relationship—friendship or romantic—won’t stand the test of time. Because none of us can live up to that standard.
4. Let it go. Let go of the mistakes you have made—real or imagined. Let go of the “should” and “coulds” and judgments that are essentially just your superego messing with you. Your superego is an ideal, an encouragement, an unachievable goal. So, view it as such. Your “should’s” and “could’s” are akin to the question “What superpower would you have if you could choose anything in the world?”
Mistakes happen, and perfection is a conundrum that was never meant to be achieved. So, when you mess up, move on.
5. Stop kicking your own ass. We all have an internal monologue that we play repeatedly in our head
Mine? I have always felt fat, no matter how much I weighed. I was never enough to be worthy of my parent’s respect. Praise? Yes. But, respect was different. Respect is something that is unconsciously given, whereas praise is a conscious decision to bestow on someone. I have been told since the third grade that I was lazy, and “not working up to potential,” and it took me 42 years to discover that I was struggle-bussing through life, and that despite my undiagnosed ADHD, I managed to become a doctor, author, podcaster, blogger, and (mostly) a bad-ass mom who manages two kids and remembers every activity (that I deem important. Shhh).
Your turn. What’s your internal monologue? What fears and doubts and rewinds of time haunt you as you are trying to go to sleep at night? What childhood falls, or adolescent awkwardness plagues you to this day, sticking around just long enough to remind you that you are—in your own mind—“socially awkward?"
The truth is, the vast majority of people I know who claim to be socially awkward are actually much more vigilant and aware than the outspoken, loud-mouthed, passively-insulting-your-wife people who are, in fact, socially awkward. Those are the people who do, in fact, make other people feel uncomfortable.
As for the rest of you—the rest of us—we doubt our social interactions because we are sensitive, and thoughtful, and overly-attuned to how our actions affect others. And is that necessarily a bad thing?
