I had history of social anxiety and social phobia years before I actually became chronically psychotic. Now I can see that I tended to take little slights as total rejection and at the time did not understand how striving for approval actually kept me from getting ahead. Sometime popping my dad's valium would settle me down and mad it easier to go on dates. Made it easier to suffer through parties. Made it easier to sink even further into myself.
Once into the working world, I simply threw myself into work. And this was compounded by a very controlling husband. Romantic relationships and even just friendships were for other people, not for me. That didn't mean I didn't want them, however. I just didn't know how to get them.
So once I began treatment for sz, and began seeing a therapist, I thought the road to recovery would be a short one. A yellow brick road to sanity, to wellness, to fulness of being and to relationships. Eespecially when I began seeing a psychotherapist. In all honesty, I assumed all I would have to do was take a medication for the symptoms and tell a therapist my problems and she would tell me how to solve them. Little did I know! I didn't know that the road would be one I would travel the rest of my life.
Now to the point I want to make. All my life I thought if I could only have friends, life would be complete. Most of my family members had lots of friends while I only had the occasional boyfriend. I think I was one of those people who needed to be taught how to make friends; it sure didn't come naturally. But my therapist didn't give me a plan of action. Instead, she said, "You are okay just as you are, without friends. Even if you never have a friend, you are still okay." I think that got me off on the right foot. I began to see my worth didn't depend on others, it depended on me! I didn't have to have approval from my dad, or a date to the prom, or designer clothes to impress others into being my friend. All I needed to do was approve of myself just as I am.
That said, I still want friends, of course. But I find myself rationalizing being a loner and I shun the few overtures to friendship that others make. And I don't know why. Do I not trust them? Do I fear my illness will raise its ugly head and embarass us both? I just can't seem to figure out this thing.
A woman in my Sunday School class wants to take me to a poetry reading group on Monday morning. She is going to call me Sunday and let me know what time. It scares me because I wonder what will be required of me. I fear that I will somehow fail. Even if I am only there to listen.
Carolyn
