I don't know what the problem is and it's hard to describe. It's like there's a barrier separating me from the rest of the world, like I'm trapped in a box.
I can see what's going on around me. I can interact with other people. There's just something between us that keeps me from really understanding them and vice versa. So, rather than talk, I mostly observe and listen. It happens all the time, be it when I'm sitting at work, listening to my coworkers talk about a TV show they watched recently, or when I visit family and listen to them talk about work, and home, and life in general.
It makes for awkward social encounters. People can tell that I am not behaving like everyone else, as if they can actually see the box that I'm sitting in. Think about this: the average person is walking down the street and sees a man sitting in a box. Do they ask him why he's sitting in the box or do they look straight ahead and walk past him? Most people would just keep walking. I'm not sure which is worse, the ones who walk past, or the ones who try to help.
In the past, I've had people try to help me by forcing me to be social. I'm not opposed to meeting new people. In fact, it's something I really want to do. It's just the approaches aren't always suited towards my rather fragile mindset. Once, a friend invited me along with him on a road trip to the mountains, where we'd be going to a Renaissance Fair. I've never been to one before, so I was interested in the idea. Of course, then he described the travel arrangements to me. We'd set off a good three or four days before the fair, making stops along the way to the homes of a bunch of his other friends, making use of their hospitality for our overnight accommodations. This bothered me for a few reasons.
First of all, I felt like I'd be asking perfect strangers to let me stay on their couch for the night. I'm not comfortable asking my closest family and friends for help or favors, so asking acquaintances, friend-of-a-friends and people I've never met fall deep within the "Brian's not comfortable" territory.
Second, the only thing I'd have in common with all of the people we'd be surrounded with is our one mutual friend. And since the whole point of the trip was for him to get reacquainted with all these familiar faces from his past, I felt like I'd more or less spend the entire trip listening to a bunch of people reminisce about stories that I had no context for, which lands me back in the outsider territory where I'm just watching other people interact and have fun.
Still, it was nice to be invited along, but I politely declined the offer. And a lot of the other social gatherings I've been invited to over the years have more or less played out the same way. Someone with their heart in the right place invites me along to an event without really thinking how I might take it, because they can't really see the way I see the world. Again, it's a nice gesture, and one that I appreciate, but it feels like throwing me into the deep end of the swimming pool and telling me that I'll figure out how to swim.
That's why I've been thankful for the friends I've found over the past year. They're people who can appreciate and understand my mindset, my social anxiety, and where I'm coming from. Maybe they've encountered people like me before, or maybe they've spent time trapped in their own box. Whatever the case, they've been far more patient and understanding when it comes to easing me into new social settings than other people I've known. When the typical response is to try to upend the box and dump me out, its far more comforting to have people who don't treat you like there's something wrong with you and just treat you like a friend.
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