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

by Ellen Hendriksen

Despite my initial reluctance, once I finally dragged myself to the piano I usually found myself practicing longer than my required twenty minutes. Not that I ever admitted it, but it was my own resistance that made me miserable, not the practice itself.

Being brave isn’t not being afraid. Indeed, fear is a prerequisite to bravery. True bravery is being afraid and doing it anyway.

My life has been filled with terrible misfortune, most of which never happened. —MONTAIGNE

Why should your goals be so defined? With a vague, squishy goal like “Be confident,” “Make a good impression,” or “Act normal,” it’s impossible to know if you’ve achieved it. I know I could always be more confident, and my Inner Critic would snort with laughter if I asked it if I made a good impression or acted normal, no matter how things actually went. By contrast, with a concrete goal you’ll know when you’ve accomplished it. You get the payoff of The Moment.

Every behavior sends a message to others. People with social anxiety can forget that; they think they’re erasing themselves.” But in reality, safety behaviors send a loud and clear message, and it’s exactly the opposite of what we’re trying to do. We accidentally send the message of I’m aloof, I’m distant, I’m snobby, I’m prickly, when nothing could be further from the truth.

Safety behaviors are designed to hide your true self, the one your Inner Critic says is flawed. But instead, safety behaviors keep us stuck in the idea that we’re unlikable or deficient. We never get the chance to prove those ideas wrong. Ironically, when the study participants stopped trying to save themselves they could be themselves. And that, in turn, made them connect on a genuine level. Plus, unsurprisingly, they had a much better time than the participants who were simply told to hang in there.

My challenge (what I would be doing if I weren’t anxious): ____________________ Safety behavior(s) I want to drop: ____________________

Affirm the times you did the right thing. Remind yourself of your best and your best will show up.

There are haters out there. But if your practice doesn’t go as planned, ask yourself who was acting inappropriately.

It feels cringe worthy now, but who will remember in a few days? (Probably no one besides you.) How often do things like this happen to people? (Probably often.) How many people has this happened to? (Lots—chalk one up for the human experience.)

turning your attention inside out. You choose where your attention goes. We can shift from focusing inward on our internal commentary to focusing outward on what’s currently happening around us.

Grumpy, judgy people are out there. Heaven knows most of us are related to at least one of them. But if something rude is said, who is acting inappropriately? You or them?

People who are more “embarrassable” are nicer, more trustworthy, and more generous. Remember: social anxiety is a package deal.

Think how you behave around those with whom you are comfortable. Are your social skills still lacking? Probably not. As with Derrick, most often the apparent disappearance of our social skills is the fault of the Inner Critic.

Having nothing to say or feeling conspicuous is a problem, to be sure, but it’s not a skills problem; it’s a confidence problem. Interestingly, most people who experience social anxiety actually have excellent social skills, but when we’re feeling inhibited we apply them in a way that keeps us from gaining confidence.

It’s so common it has a name: anxiety-induced performance deficits. This is when, precisely because we’re anxious, we start to act oddly. We go blank. We spill our drink.

Eye contact. Aim to make eye contact between one-third and two-thirds of the time you’re talking with someone. Less than one-third signals anxiety, avoidance, or submission; more than two-thirds gets too intense. You don’t have to drill into them eyeball to eyeball. Connect, look away, reconnect, look away.

Volume. Oddly, speaking too softly is often tied to eye contact. When we’re anxious, we often talk to the floor, which directs our voice the wrong way and compresses our vocal cords, muffling whatever we’re saying. Instead, if you look the person in the eye they’ll likely hear you, too.

Shift your attention away from your Inner Critic or your pounding heart and focus on what each person in the group is saying. You don’t have to be outgoing; you just have to be curious.

It took a long time, but 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.

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.

So tone down your sky-high standards, thank the Inner Critic for trying to keep you safe, but then challenge it and be kind to yourself. Turn your attention outward and tune into conversation rather than letting your internal dialogue drown it out.

Remember the perfectionism chapter? Those of us prone to social anxiety tend to look for an instant, capital-F Friend. Without even realizing it, we’re looking for a ready-made BFF with whom we feel connected right away.

Social anxiety tells us to find a friend—to win someone over right away—but real friends must be made. Friendship is a process, not a ready-made discovery. But that’s actually good news. Rather than searching for a diamond in the rough, it turns out the rough contains scores of potential friends. The raw stuff, the stardust that transforms into friends, is everywhere. Almost everyone is a candidate. Oddly, to make a friend, you don’t need the “right” person. Instead, the person becomes right over time.

Remember, if they’re friendly, they’re in. Think of everyone you’re friendly with or could be friendly with. There. I bet you just broadened your social life substantially.

Too many of us have been told we’re “too quiet” or that we need to speak up more. We’ve heard it over and over again, and it always sounds like a critique, as if something is wrong with us. Thankfully, the introvert movement has validated and empowered all of us quiet types. But stretch. If someone starts a conversation with you, gently encourage yourself to disclose a little more than usual.

Social anxiety makes us masters of ending conversations. It’s easy: a certain tone of finality, saying hi but not stopping to chat, or simply not saying anything more sends the message that we don’t want to talk. 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.

But don’t base success on the other person’s response. Don’t base success on how nervous you feel. Base success only on what you do. Did you manage to share a little bit of yourself? Great. The first times are the hardest. Try again, and try again soon—not weeks later. Keep the momentum going. It will get easier, I promise.

Indeed, taking the initiative is hard. But 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. Their visibility is high. The shy among us despair, thinking, I’ll never be able to do that, or, That’s not me. But you don’t need to be someone you’re not. You don’t need to own the room to be liked.

all you have to be is kind. And that’s something you have in you already. Something else you have in you is all the other natural traits that come along with the package deal of social anxiety: your empathy, your ability to listen, your high standards, your conscientiousness.

Now you know how to question your worries with “How bad would that really be?,” “What are the odds?,” and “How would I cope?” You know how to talk to yourself with compassion and understanding, creating a supportive environment from which you can do hard things. You know that if you jump in before you’re confident your confidence will catch up. You know that if you choose a role, a goal, or otherwise create some structure for yourself, you’ll feel more certain and focused. You know that each trip over the anxiety peak erodes it. You know to drop your safety behaviors—those life preservers that do nothing but hold you under, and by doing so you’ll reap the authenticity that follows. You know to shift your attention to the task at hand, the person in front of you, or even, mindfully, to your breath. You can see yourself as others see you instead of the funhouse mirror image. You can dare to be average. You can trust that your foibles and blunders make you more endearing. You know to keep showing up, to disclose bits of your life, and to show others you like them. And most of all, you know to be kind and trustworthy.

It’s a fine balance—we shouldn’t push our anxious friends off the ledge, but we should encourage them to experience for themselves that the ledge isn’t as high and precarious as they originally imagined.