I recently jumped off a large rock. This rock was nine meters tall- an absolute whopper for someone who hates heights. Its ledge jutted out over murky, turbulent and potentially hippo-infested waters, and, after I jumped, I was suspended in the air for a good few seconds. I was suspended for so long that I had time to fully comprehend my surroundings and the sickening drop below me before I eventually plummeted into the drink.
You get the picture, albeit a slightly exaggerated one for a dramatic opening.
I was bloody scared.
But thinking about this jump retrospectively, I couldn’t help but feel that heights were only my secondary fear in life. Whilst the idea of launching myself off the side of, let’s face it, a minor cliff made me want to vomit, it was much easier than launching myself into…
dun dun duh…
a conversation with someone I don’t know.
See what I did there with the link between ‘launching’ myself off a rock and into a conversation, ‘jumping’ from a height and into proverbial discourse with another person.
A tenuous link, it may seem, I know, but my rock jump really does provide a viable metaphor for social anxiety.
Firstly, the climb up to the rock is strenuous and unsteady, loose pieces of ground fly out beneath your feet without warning, and sharp trees pierce your skin.
Putting yourself in a social setting in the first place can be just as, if not more, difficult. Not to be dramatic but walking over to a large circle of people, my legs feel heavy and leaden as if I had climbed the rock one hundred times over. Every fibre of my being pulls me back from that social circle like the loose rocks and clawing foliage which inhibit my climb. The physical resistance of climbing: muscles straining, feet scrabbling, is much like the mental resistance that keeps me from skipping over to have a chat with that group of people. Both types of resistance are arguably equally as strenuous and difficult to push through.
Next comes the sickening view from the edge of the rock. The water moves dizzyingly beneath you. Legs shake, heart pounds. Jumping seems like a death wish, and so, your legs, as if on autopilot, drag you back to the safety of the bank behind you.
In a large room of people, a sea of eyes in my direction creates much the same physical experience as the swirling waters below that rock. The view is intimidating. What if I fall in front of these people, make a blunder, make a fool of myself? Whilst of course such a fall is less treacherous than tripping from a high rock, the body cannot distinguish between real danger and perceived danger in the moment. The physical symptoms are the same: dizziness, heart palpitations, and the need to retreat.
Then, finally, the jump itself. The decision to jump and commit to that decision. After all, it is hard to trust shaky legs to follow through on a decision made up in the mind. ‘Here we go,’ I would say to myself over and over. Each time the knees would bend, the arms would release, preparing to take flight, and each time, I would not go anywhere, grounded by an increasing fear in my head.
In a conversation setting, thoughts and opinions arrive and leave my mind. These potential additions to the conversation never see the light of day. I overthink it and then, before I know it, the moment has gone. What if I’m not interesting enough, not intelligent, funny enough to talk to these people? But each time I stay silent, the more my fear of speaking up increases. I need to jump in without thinking. After all, once I committed to jumping off the side of that rock, it was not as bad as it seemed. It was fun even. I was ready to scramble up those rocks again without a second thought.
The question is, how do I make the jump without all this faffing around, the emotional toll, the physical anxiety? How do I enjoy chatting with others and initiate more conversations?
According to Mark Rhodes, author of How to Talk to Absolutely Anyone, the question is rewiring our brains to see social situations as what they are: not life-threatening. Mark argues that the prehistoric part of our mind cannot distinguish between standing up to do a presentation in front of a group of people and being chased by a hippo. In both situations, the ‘fight or flight’ mode is activated.
The good news is that there is a way to reprogram a fear response to social situations. Mark proposes three possible methods:
1.‘Gaining a skillset in the area you fear.’
Yes, that is right, putting yourself in more social situations, scary as it may seem, will be beneficial in the long run. Each time you encounter a social interaction, more levels are added to the skillset: you perfect conversation openers, rehearse anecdotes to entertain your interlocutor and discover ways to neatly wrap up a chat. The more skills you develop, the less scary socialising will seem. The uncertainty is gone because you will always have something to say or fall back on.
2. ‘Imagining the situation differently’
Imagining an unfamiliar situation in familiar terms can make it seem less daunting. For example, you might find socialising with small groups of people easier than with large groups. Dividing a big group of people into several smaller groups can make the situation more approachable. You know you have handled a group of smaller people before. This is the same concept, except you might engage with multiple smaller groups in this setting.
3. ‘Body awareness’
Simply noticing negative thoughts and the resulting emotional response can help keep social anxiety in check. Thoughts are not facts, and questioning anxious thoughts before a social interaction can help reduce the resulting symptoms of anxiety in the body. ‘Will something actually happen to me if I talk to this person?’ Probably not. Never say never, but the chances of dying from a social interaction are pretty much nil. If you can break the cycle of negative thoughts and physical symptoms associated with social anxiety, conversations become a much less stressful experience .
So, there we have it: three takeaways for your next social interaction. Although it is safe to say that my fear of heights has not been cured, when it comes to the idea of socialising, I feel less anxious already. In fact, one might say I am ready to dive into my next conversation. Sorry, I could not help myself- I promise to give the whole rock jumping metaphor a break in the next one.
Rhodes, Mark. How to Talk to Absolutely Anyone. John Wiley & Sons, 25 Feb. 2025.
The Frazzled English Woman 