Leil Lowndes - Always in the Kitchen at Parties - Simple Tools for Instant Confidence

He winked at me and said, ‘Was there anything in particular you were looking for, Miss Lowndes?’ I bolted past him out the door, dashed down the street, and dove into a ‘respectable’ shop to sidestep him.

Needless to say, after that fiasco I never again made eye-contact with Mr Fuller. However, whenever we passed in the hall he’d say ‘Good morning, Miss Lowndes’ in a curiously salacious voice for a second-grade teacher.

Hearing his snide voice filled me with fury, not against Mr Fuller, but against my shyness. I declared war on it and was determined to win.

“ Whenever I avoided anyone on the street, it was a mental relief. I felt good because they didn’t see me. I said to myself, ‘OK, I won’t do it next time.’ But I always did.”

AMANDA – LONDON, ENGLAND

When ‘Socially Avoidant’ people evade someone, it is more insidious than just a mental relief. It’s not ‘just mental’, any more than taking heroin is just mental. It’s physiological. You are actually getting a ‘high’ from the physical feeling, and it’s harder to resist the next time.

For individuals with Socially Avoidant Personality, anxiety subsides following an avoidant response, thus reinforcing and escalating the avoidant response.1

SHYBUSTER 1:

Go Cold Turkey on the Small Stuff

Avoiding situations is an addictive drug. Right after, you get a mental high: Whew, I escaped that one! But it makes it all the harder because you crave that relief again and again. You dig a deeper rabbit hole that’s harder to scurry out of each time. And, like an addict, you start to hate yourself for being so weak.

Start rehab now! Go cold turkey on dodging small encounters.

“ Walking in the street and seeing someone approach from the front can be another terrifying experience. What helps is simply to greet the person in passing – a simple smile, nod of the head and a ‘Hi’ does wonders to break the awkwardness, and even builds a little confidence (‘Wow, I said “Hi” and nothing bad happened, and he/she actually smiled back!’).”

KOOS Z. – PRETORIA, SOUTH AFRICA

Once while channel-surfing I got caught up in an ugly wave. I fell into one of those television talk shows, or rather circuses, where people who suffer from an assortment of afflictions are on display. This particular programme prefers people plagued with mental and/or physical disorders. The heartless host feigns compassion. He has an insatiable appetite for bizarre family relationships, strange sexual tastes and other eccentric infirmities. While tearful guests bare their souls to millions of viewers, the studio audience hoots and hollers, egging them on to even more humiliation.

‘Ralph is afraid of peaches,’ the host gleefully announces.

‘Ooh,’ the audience chants.

‘He can’t come near them.’

‘Ooh,’ the audience chants louder. Then, a basket of peaches appears on a big screen behind Ralph. The host points up at it. Ralph turns, swears (bleeped out), screams and jumps up. His 270 pounds of sheer terror races down the studio hall, followed, of course, by the camera crew.

Hysterical laughter from the audience.

Ralph, covered by three cameras, cowers in the corner backstage. At the host’s goading, the audience begins chanting, ‘Ralph come back. Ralph come back.’ Ralph, still shaking, staggers back on the set.

The crowd applauds.

While winking at the audience the host asks Ralph, ‘Why don’t you like peaches?’

‘They’re fuzzy, they’re slimy.’ Then almost inaudibly, he mutters something about a girlfriend who had peach shampoo.

At that moment, two voluptuous women bring in two big baskets of peaches.

The audience’s gleeful crescendo is ‘Uh oh, he’s in big trouble now.’ At the sight of the peaches, the spectators are treated to a repeat performance from Ralph. This time he runs through the audience. They tackle him and succeed in pulling his pants down, which only adds to the ridiculousness of the spectacle. The camera catches the rear view of Ralph crawling away from the taunting audience, on all fours, his trousers around his knees.

Ralph once again crouches in the foetal position in a corner of the studio wings. The host follows and sneers, ‘Do you know what you are now? A 6-foot tall, 270-pound man cowering in the corner?’

Mercifully for me, just then my phone rang.

When I came back 15 minutes later, Ralph was happily holding a ripe peach in his hands. With a big smile he brought it to his lips.

The camera cuts to a self-described ‘phobia life coach’ and ‘therapist’ sitting paternally beside Ralph. He explains to a gullible audience that he cured Ralph by gradual exposure and he will never fear peaches again.

The screen fades to black and advertises for a future guest: ‘Do you have a child under the age of 13 who weighs over 300 pounds and is constantly teased and tormented?’ Contact us at …

Have you ever seen a nature film where a tiny flower bud grows taller in a few seconds? Two seconds later, it sprouts leaves. Another five seconds and exquisite petals open to receive the sunlight. The filming itself could have taken weeks. But we view the spectacle of nature in fewer than 30 seconds.

If Ralph’s host were a horticulturist rather than an emcee of debauched demonstrations, he would try to convince us that the flower buds actually blossomed in seconds.

For Ralph, it was the right idea, but the wrong timing. Gradually exposing someone to a feared object or situation definitely works – but not in an hour-long show. Mental health professionals call it ‘Graduated Exposure Therapy’. We’ll call it ‘GET’ for short.

With successful exposure, social situations no longer cue danger-based interpretation and anxiety.1

Dr Bernardo Carducci, a highly respected therapist who has researched shyness for 25 years, tells of a patient called Margaret who was so petrified of spiders, she couldn’t walk anywhere except on a wide pavement. 2Her fear of spiders didn’t permit her to enter any building but her own home.

The therapist treated Margaret with Graduated Exposure Therapy. First he asked Margaret simply to write the word ‘spider’ repeatedly. Her next task, probably weeks later, was to look at pictures of spiders in a book. It was a giant step, and probably a long time later, when she was able to view spider in a glass box across the room. Ever so gradually, Margaret could come closer to the little critter in the box.

As her final victory, Margaret sat comfortably in a room with a spider crawling along the arm of her chair.

But this was no hour-long TV show. By the end of the first hour, Margaret was still trying to hold her pen steady while she wrote the word ‘spider.’ Film coverage of Margaret’s phobia and eventual cure would have made a rather humdrum TV show lasting probably several months. But at least it would be real.

Gradual exposure guides patients to confront feared situations and allows their fear to dissipate naturally. They interpret it accurately and gain essential skills. Patients gain a sense of safety through not prematurely escaping from, or avoiding social situations.3