Shedding Light on Yet Another Dysfunction

Tom Wolfe with one of the horses

Usually, I write about my adventures with lots of gory details about experiences with porn stars. This post won’t be like that. First, because I didn’t spend the weekend with “Tom Wolfe”—in fact, neither “Tom Wolfe” nor “JP Barnaby” were anywhere around. It was just Trish spending time with her friend, the guy behind “Tom Wolfe”, who in many ways is nothing like his bad ass leather and chains porn persona. He’s a wonderful, kind, big-hearted Midwestern farm boy who is quick to smile, quick to laugh, and quick to wrap you in a hug when you need one. Second, and more importantly, because this weekend was very personal and he lets very few people into that side of his life, and his home, I won’t betray his confidence by talking about it.

 

I tell people that I’m shy, but my close friends—the ones who know me as Trish instead of “JP”, understand that I have social anxiety disorder. I control that at events by becoming a different person. It became much easier to dissociate myself from Trish and become “JP” with the addition of my good friend Drake Jaden, who I like to use as a role model. Drake loves “JP”—she’s fun and flirty and fearless, just like he is. As one person on Facebook put it (to my utter shock, actually) “JP is the rock star author with the porn entourage”. Trish is nothing like that. At all. I’ll never forget my mom telling me that I should watch Big Bang Theory, because I WAS Sheldon. The first time I saw it, I thought to myself – Jesus, is that really how people see me? It really hit home when they started playing chess on a Star Trek 3D chessboard that was sitting in my closet. With Tom, as we hung out, I spouted off all kinds of geeky shit that right now I don’t even remember. It was something about quantum mechanics and the size of a person’s head in relation to their intelligence. Seriously, in my head, I guess if I can’t be cool or funny, at least I can be smart. Yes, I’m a geek—I’m a total spaz—and nothing proved that better than this weekend when I was forced into a social situation by a well-meaning friend without the cloak of “JP” and found I had a complete inability to cope despite how wonderful and accepting his family was, or how beautiful and amazing the farm was.

 

Cute little calf

To someone who isn’t shy, or who doesn’t have an issue with social anxiety, I’m sure I appeared rather challenged. Which is funny since my IQ is in the top 2% of the nation—a fact that I try to console myself with when I have to have a conversation and absolutely nothing will come out. When I’m around strangers with no one to buffer me, I have a real problem talking. When I’m upset and confronted head on about something, I can’t even speak, I can’t make eye contact. It’s frustrating and humiliating. For anyone who hasn’t experienced it—my brain kind of locks and responses just won’t come. What you’ll get from me is a nod, a shake of the head, or “I’m fine”, just so I can get out of the situation and try to make it stop. If it gets bad enough, I’ll actually begin to cry uncontrollably.

 

So, why talk about it?

 

People who meet “JP” at author or porn events or see my pics and posts on Facebook probably can’t reconcile my social anxiety issues with the person they’ve met. So, why shatter the illusion? Why shed light on yet another one of my psychological disorders? Because talking about them helps—it helps me, and it helps the people who read my books and the posts on my psychological dysfunctions and say – hey, that’s me. The dedication of A House of Cards speaks to the monster in my head that dozens of people could identify with, and they made contact with me to tell me that knowing they weren’t alone helped. So, maybe if I talk about the social anxiety and how I cope, it will help other people to cope. I have to take comfort that the shit in my head will help someone—that all the crap that’s happened to me in life to make me what I am had some Goddamned purpose.

 

So, what do I do?

 

1. When I can, I have someone with me, who I trust, to buffer me from strangers. Someone to calm me down when I start to panic. Those closest to me know, sometimes intuitively, not to leave me with strangers. At GRL, I have Rowan and Jodi who both understand about my anxiety. At events like Hustlaball and Grabbys, I have guys who get me (Howard or Drake, usually), and that helps.

2. I become a different person. “JP” can sit in front of a standing room only Q&A and answer questions somewhat intelligently. Trish would have been in the bathroom in tears. It’s not easy, and I’m usually exhausted and emotional when the event is over. I don’t know why it works, because essentially “JP” is still me, but it feels like if I make mistakes, if I fuck up – “JP” would take the blame, not Trish. It’s just another psychological game I play with myself in order to get through life, I guess.

3. To be perfectly blunt, alcohol helps. I had several before climbing on stage (flanked by Jodi and Drake) to present at Grabbys last year. I had a six-pack of at a bonfire Tom threw for me while I was there. So that when he finally came over and took my hand to lead me over to the fire and hang out with his friends, I could actually move. If you’ve met me, you know I don’t tolerate alcohol well, so in that quantity, I was surprised I could even walk.

4. I sit in the corner and read. When I can’t become “JP” or have no one around to hold on to, I dissociate from the situation and read on my phone, keeping my mind focused on something other than panic.

When I’m unable to do any of those things, I hide—physically. I remove myself from the situation. Usually, by that time, the uncontrollable crying is right there, and I try to get the fuck away from people before it starts.

 

Bonfire

Has it gotten better? Yes. With a larger group of friends than I’ve ever had before, I’m almost always with someone who I can focus on. As “JP” gains more friends and fans, her confidence grows and she’s more equipped to get through events. For example, the first GRL in NOLA, I never left the hotel. I didn’t go to LaFitte in Exile, I didn’t sign up for events, mostly I stood in the corner and begged people not to talk to me. GRL in Albuquerque was different. I’d learned how to become “JP”, downed a couple of drinks, donned that purple corset, and danced with the gogo boys—because that’s what “JP” does. In all honestly, RT will be the real test. Thousands of strangers, the biggest romance authors in the world, and a conference where no one’s ever heard of JP Barnaby or gives a shit about what she writes or who she hangs out with. I don’t envy my sweet Jodi that weekend. Not one little bit.

 

So, for those of you who read this post and say “Jesus, that’s me”, I get you. There are ways to cope with it, you just have to find the right tools for your arsenal, hone them, and use them as effectively as you can. If you can’t cope on your own, there are drugs and therapies that you can try. The drugs make me sluggish and slow. I can’t effectively promote myself and my books on them, so I had to find another way to deal.

 

Please remember that no matter what your issue—shyness, social anxiety, the aftermath of sexual trauma, depression—there is someone out there who goes through it too. If you were alone, these diagnoses would have no names. There are enough people who live through the same things you do for there to be an entire classification for it.

 

You are not alone.

 

Xoxox,

JP Barnaby