PANIC

Perhaps I should mention that, by this time in my life, my social anxiety disorder had reached such a pitch that I only felt completely at ease with Ella, my boyfriends, and children. When I knew a guy liked me, I was able to be myself, but with other adults I’d become so self-conscious that, to appear normal, I had to act. I’d learned to control my body and modulate my voice to simulate composure—and even to affect a convincing smile and laugh. But the effort was so exhausting that I could only manage it for short periods of time. Soon my energy would flag, and I could no longer stave off the panic I was feeling. My smile muscles would begin to twitch and I’d start to stutter… Even years later, Ella and Earl were the only people I could spend many hours with.

I couldn’t fake self-possession in front of a group of people though, especially if there was a lot at stake. I’m remembering how, in my sophomore year of college, I was interviewed by a panel to be part of a special junior-year program. Instead of the usual curriculum, we would study—in depth—four periods in history, which I would have loved. My counselor assured me that with my grades I was a shoe-in, but when the list of those chosen was posted, I wasn’t on it.