Actions and Results

Lying in bed alone in his childhood room, the young man sulked over what he felt was his disappointing life. He was twenty-five years old, and he felt dull. He did not have any friends or a significant other. He simply worked online from home and saved money. 

In his free time, the young man watched television and surfed the internet. His lack of experience outside the house made him afraid to meet new people. He knew that, at some point in the small talk, people would ask, “What do you do for fun in your free time?” and he would be embarrassed because he never had anything “interesting” to say.

Believing there was something wrong with himself, he brought out his laptop and decided to reflect on his life. An overarching question echoed in his mind: How can we turn this show around?

I don’t know exactly how to say this, so I’m just gonna write and see what happens.

I’ve been seeing a therapist for a couple weeks now. My life hasn’t been going exactly to plan lately. “What plan?” someone might ask. Of course, I know there is no plan for life. Of course, I know there is no checklist. We as humans make “the plan” and “the checklist” up. They’re not real and never will be. In reality, as humans, we just do. There’s only actions and results—that’s it. Humans act, and something happens because of that action; and the chain of action and results goes on and on and on.

I write today because, even though I know there is no plan for life, I still feel like my life is missing something. Like my actions have been mistakes. Like my results have been lesser than other people’s results. I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I must admit I feel a deep emptiness inside of me that I want gone. I feel like my life went wrong somewhere, and I’m pretty sure I’ve pinned down the source of my frustrations: myself.

More specifically, my fear of closeness, intimacy, laughing, and humility has led me to where I am today: alone. It’s no one’s fault but my own. I dug the hole that I’m now in, and I gotta claw my way out. My dispirited actions drove people away, and as a result I’m by myself.

But why do I have so much fear inside of me? Where does this fear come from?

Well I, like a lot of people, have a crippling social anxiety. For a long time, I’ve preferred to be alone rather than be with people because I’m afraid of rejection. When I used to get invited to hang out with other people, I said no. And I kept repeating this process until there were no more invites. 

At first, my anxiety loved this. I didn’t have to worry about telling funny jokes, looking and smelling good for others, or making sure I didn’t do something embarrassing. I could just be content without having to worry. I was content for so long just keeping my anxiety levels low and being by myself.

Lately though, I’ve had this intense feeling like something is pulling at me. Like when a little boy or girl tugs at their mom’s shirt, trying to get them to go somewhere with them. And I think I know what this feeling is that is tugging at me. I’m pretty sure I’m in the middle of a craving for a human relationship. I think the proper name for it is friendship. I believe friendship is tugging at my side, telling me it’s time to overcome my social anxiety and stop being by myself.

My therapist and I have been “talking stuff out,” trying to get to the bottom of why this “bump” in my life was created and how I can try to smooth it out. Of course, I know my fear of being rejected created the bump. My fear of people not liking me. My fear of not being good enough. My fear of being awkward and not fitting in.

Ever since I was young, a fear inside of me has stopped me from enjoying my life. I don’t know if it’s learned behavior or if I came into this world all scared and frightful. My guess is it’s a bit of both. 

The question is though, how can I smooth out this bump? If I had to make a guess, I’d say that I can smooth out the bump in my life by finding friends.

I ruined a lot of friendships and potential relationships in the past by being too timid and serious around people. I feared showing the world my playful side—and still do, even though I now know showing my playfulness would make me happier. 

Not putting myself out there because I fear rejection like people fear the plague has made the world a lonely place for me. This fear of people not liking me has hurt me because I secluded myself away from humanity. Away from friendship. Away from laughing. Away from love. Away from happiness.

I must also mention that I fear spending time with people I don’t connect with. I don’t want to be with someone just to be with someone. Yes, I don’t only fear getting rejected, but I also fear rejecting too many people. I know I’m a picky person when it comes to friends and significant others. I also know no one is perfect, but I still fear spending time with someone I don’t connect with. This fear of spending time with the “wrong” person has led me to seclude myself.

Now comes the hard part. If I want friendship, I gotta go get it. It’s not going to be served to me on a silver platter. I have to put myself out there. Of course, I’ll be rejected while also rejecting others myself. But if I do put myself out into the world a lot, I should be able to find someone who feels a mutual connection with me. 

I mean, there are some eight billion humans on the planet. There’s got to be at least one other person out there in this world that I can share my life with—whether a significant other or not. If I’m not picky or judgmental like I was in the past, this will open up a lot more doors for potential relationships. Nothing secludes one faster than being picky amongst friends and significant others. No one will be perfect. Everyone will be awkward. And it’s our job as humans to have fun with the awkwardness and to laugh at it because, in the end, all we have is each other, right? 

The universe is large, and humanity is small. So, we might as well enjoy each other’s company while we’re here. I mean, at a minimum we should enjoy our time with at least one other person; because in a world that makes no sense—and never will—the one thing that does make sense is laughing with friends.

I say all this though, and yet here I am, still alone. I know I can be so much more than I am right now, but this fear thing keeps getting in the way. I tell myself it’s all in my head, but when it’s time to be confident and try and get some friends or a significant other, my brain immediately goes into flight mode. When it’s time to make eye contact, smile, wave, ask how they are, crack a joke … I look away, frown, and don’t talk.

Why do I do this to myself?