How to Be Yourself: Quiet Your Inner Critic and Rise Above Social Anxiety

by Ellen Hendriksen

By aiming for mediocrity—a few gaps in conversation, carrying some but not all of the interaction, maybe saying something witty, but maybe not—she not only met her goal, but was also willing to try again, which created a virtuous cycle.

Daring to be average was helpful, but so was daring to be kinder to herself.

perfectionism is only a problem if your high standards are getting in your way.

positive striving involves high but not unattainable standards,

We like people more when they’re imperfect. This is why self-deprecation is so charming and why celebrities who trip on the red carpet come away looking adorable.

People who are more “embarrassable” are nicer, more trustworthy, and more generous.

If you’re actively worried about coming across as creepy or weird or awkward or idiotic, the Inner Critic is going to berate you into a lot of false positives.

if you put a lot of pressure on yourself for things to go perfectly, you’re guaranteed to feel stifled. Then the resulting inhibition feels like you don’t have skills.

innocuously social. We nod a lot. We agree. We tend not to interrupt. We use what linguists have labeled back-channel responses like “uh-huh” or “wow, really?” to show that we’re listening and interested. And you know what? All this requires stellar social skills.

even though it’s uncomfortable to feel embarrassed, it serves a vital social function by acting as a prosocial gesture. In short, we’re not poorly socialized; in fact, quite the opposite.

It’s so common it has a name: anxiety-induced performance deficits.

Because we’re sending signals that something’s off, it sets off the threat-o-meter of people around us—

When we’re feeling inhibited, we’re already overthinking. We can’t access our skills unconsciously anymore, so sometimes we have to remember them consciously.

the Three-Second Rule: when you see someone you’d like to talk to, you have three seconds to approach and say hello.

I learned to take a quick intake of breath through my mouth and perk up my comportment a little. This signaled to the group that I was about to say something: open mouth, heightened posture.

lower your sky-high standards. Aim to say hi rather than waiting to drop a perfectly timed joke. Ask two questions rather than waiting until you’ve thought up a clever monologue.

we don’t need more skills, we just need less inhibition. But guess what? You already know what to do to lower your inhibition: Like the assertive study participants, play a role—give yourself a mission. Dare to be average. Fake it until you are it. And finally, drop your safety behaviors. Step away from the body spray.

We can make friends with almost anyone. Provided our potential friend is not mean-spirited, given time and repeated encounters, we can—and do—become friends with whoever’s around.

When you’re starting out, the best strategy is to join a ready-made community open to others: an ultimate frisbee team, a running group, a bike polo team, a choral group, community theater, a church group, and yes, a book club. In my case, preschool co-ops have twice jump-started my social life after cross-country moves.

start with what you’re doing or thinking. Say hi, ask how they are, and share some tidbit about what you’re doing, what you just did, what you’re planning, or what you’ve been thinking about recently. It doesn’t have to be smart, insightful, or articulate—it just has to be about you.

Whatever you say doesn’t have to be earth-shattering—the only criterion is that it should reveal a tiny tidbit about you.

Sometimes you’ll get a lame answer, “Yeah, that’s cool,” or, “Oh, really?” And then … nothing. A conversational tumbleweed will roll by. But that’s fine—a lot of conversations are lame, but here’s the thing: a lame conversation doesn’t mean you’re lame. Other times, you’ll get a relatively substantial answer,

the answer to “Where are you from?” can shift from, “Houston,” to, “Houston, but I haven’t lived there in twenty years. Though I’ve gone back a couple of times for the rodeo.” Then? Do something you’re already good at: listen. Turn your attention inside out.

disclosure as “escalating and reciprocal,” meaning that telling someone about yourself should be a gradual give-and-take.

Ending conversation is another safety behavior—we’re trying to save ourselves from the anxiety. But we trade the anxiety of the moment for loneliness in the long run.

At its simplest, showing you like someone is being the first to say hi or lighting up with a smile when they say hi to you.

After racking up those six to eight conversations hanging around after book club, Maddy may invite a book club buddy out for coffee, a change of context from the group to a duo.

a helpful tool is to turn the tables. How would you feel if they invited you? Probably delighted. How would you feel if something went wrong? Probably understanding. Assume the same for them.

It’s easy to mistake being dominant for being liked, because dominant kids get a lot of attention.

the kids with the most “like most” votes and the fewest “like least” votes were those who were also rated as the package deal of kind, cooperative, and trustworthy. Dominance, it turns out, equaled perceived popularity. Warmheartedness equaled actual popularity.

“If you try to be warm and friendly and curious, then everything else—the blemishes and foibles and awkward behaviors all of us have simply because we’re human—becomes much less important to the other person

question your worries with “How bad would that really be?,” “What are the odds?,” and “How would I cope?”