Tuesday, July 31, 2007

My Albatross (Part 1)

I have social anxiety disorder. It’s not who I am or what I think, but it drastically limits how I’m able to function with people. It’s sometimes called social phobia. Like all phobias, it’s an irrational fear of something harmless.

Do you know anyone who has extreme anxiety or panic attacks over things like heights, flying, spiders, snakes, enclosed spaces? It happens to me in crowded places, when strangers approach, dealing with authority figures, job interviews, or having to speak at a function or meeting. The thought of going to a party sends my anxiety soaring.

When I tell people about this, they usually respond, “What? You? No way!” I've gotten pretty good at hiding it most of the time. Outside, I’m calm and have a quiet, strong demeanor. Inside, I’m wound tight and am consciously controlling my breathing and relaxing my muscles. It’s incredibly distracting. It makes it hard to concentrate on what’s going on around me and what people are saying. And if I miss what’s going on, I can’t participate effectively, then my anxiety rises and I have to consciously control … you get the picture.

What’s the long term solution? Well, my fight-or-flight response somehow became associated with harmless social interactions. It doesn't matter how at this point, though it’s probably largely hereditary. The solution is to change the association. I have to learn to associate social activity with pleasure instead of fear. I want to enjoy being social.

The short term solution is medication. I take Paxil and lorazepam every day. I take additional lorazepam if I know I’m going to need help dealing with a situation. They have helped, but not without cost. They have raised the bar so that I’m reasonably functional in public. But lorazepam is a tranquilizer. And though it’s a godsend to have some relief from anxiety and to ward off a flat out panic attack, being tranquil takes the edge off things like ambition, motivation, mental acuity, and joy. For the most part it’s a good trade off. The trouble is, the short term has lasted ten years so far. It turns out that changing psychological associations is extremely difficult.

Monday, July 30, 2007

Best Fishes

A high school classmate contacted me on Facebook this week and asked, "Remember me?" She's married, so she gave me her maiden name which sounded familiar, but I wasn't sure.

I found my memorabilia box with yearbooks in it and flipped open 1979. A large photo dropped from inside the front cover. I picked it up and Steve Martin smiled in a white suit with a fish sticking out of his jacket just above the top button. The autograph reads, "Best Fishes, Steve Martin." It was an insert from one of his albums. Remember that? That was awesome!

I saw Steve Martin once playing poker in the Mirage poker room in Las Vegas. He was on a break during the filming of Sgt. Bilko. He was in a seven card stud game. There was a list a mile long to join Steve's game. He wore a red baseball cap with his head tilted forward so the brim gave him privacy. No one was bothering him.

When I finished playing, I racked my chips and headed to the poker room cashier. As I walked by his table, his head tilted and the brim of his cap rose to reveal his face. He looked straight at my eyes. His face was deadpan. He showed no emotion. Maybe it was his poker face. I knew of him as a comedian, so his blank faced stare was extra creepy. I felt like he was daring me to annoy him. I left him alone and continued on to the cashier.

In one of those wish-I'd-thought-of-it-at-the-time moments, I wish I'd smiled and said, "Cheer up. It's a game!" and continued walking without intruding.

Best Fishes Steve.

I found my classmate's picture. I remember her being in some of my classes, but we weren't in the same social groups. It makes me wonder what I did to be memorable to her.