cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/46026494

I want to tell you a story. This is the story of how I overcame my crippling social anxiety and started rising into what I am today. Obviously, as anyone paying attention to me for half a second can attest, you should know that I’m diagnosed as schizoaffective n autistic with a buttload of trauma.

God dealt me a helluva tough hand to play, but I’ve learned to play it well. I was always the weird kid, and when I went off to college on my own, I had a complete mental breakdown. Lotta d-tier sex crimes (Diogenes would be proud) n I started my descent into drugs after failing to meet the stanards of the drinking team with a running problem, being horribly in the closet and deranged to boot.

A paraiah, I wound up retreating from the world, becoming so paranoid about other people that I became agoraphobic and practically mute. We’re talking a person coming to the door would mean a near-guaranteed panic attack. Shit was rough, and lasted for the first few years of my twenties.

Then I met a friend online, and we would start skyping every day. We were like brother and sister, literally, she enjoyed the quirks of my very (loudly) vocalized incest fetish, and I was able to let my guard down with her. I felt comfortable making eye contact and holding long conversations after a couple months. That was big for me. We would eventually meet and while I was super anxious about it, I was able to break out of my shell and act more like a “normal” human being, whatever that is.

This led to me branching out and making another friend on Reddit. Same deal, only we chatted without video. It was scarier meeting him, but I got comfortable fast because he and his friends were super hippie types; real chill (and cops, I now realize). And as things go, it turned out they had some LSD, and I decided, having previously (and foolishly) taken the dive with three hits of acid, misconstruing the advice of Terence McKenna n Alan Watts reverberating in my skull, to take them up on their offer.

Long story short, they did some peculiar mumbo jumbo and made me think that God was telling me to learn to make music. I didn’t trust them to follow through with their scripted “advice,” but the secret MKULTRA magick worked regardless. Went home that night and picked out two plastic eggs from my brother’s toy box and started flipping them in one hand.

Surely, I thought, it would take me a while to learn how to juggle real well. Well, I started doing it every day, and grew to love it, so I would do it for longer n longer periods of time. And with all my free time and dedicated attitude, I picked it up exceptionally quick. Like, real quick, like I was born to do this kinda aptitude and passion.

That Christmas, which was just around the corner, I got a buncha balls from my dad, who was happy I was doing something productive. To make him proud, as I was driven, I practiced up to eight hours a day. I had a vision. I was going to beat my damn shortcomings with being a weirdo. I was going to become a street performer and kick the crap out of my anxiety and paranoia with exposure therapy.

The idea was to get out there and just experience being in public, being perceived and interacting with strangers, yadda yadda. Scary. I was a wreck when I first realized I was good enough to give my plan a legitimate shot, and it was my pride in my ability that gave me the confidence to take the leap of faith.

No doubt, it was terrifying that first day I hopped on the bus headed to downtown. Almost had a panic attack as the bus filled up, but I remembered to breathe and I made it to my stop. Great bum-puckered Jesus, it felt like everybody’s attention was glued to me as I reached the spot on the corner that I planned to juggle at. My arms were literally shaking. But, I got in position and let loose a couple of tosses. I dropped it. Great. But death didn’t happen, so I didn’t give up. Muscle memory took over soon enough, and I just went through the motions. In fact, it helped my nerves because it gave me something to focus on instead of dwelling on the looks and turned heads I saw in the corner of my eyes.

I phased.

Then, just as soon as it started, it was over. I was out there a whole hour. I don’t think anyone interacted with me that first day; I know I didn’t have a tip jar. But, the next week, I went out there again, and I talked with a woman real briefly about what I was doing. I was honest and said I was working on myself. She had a sweet reply and smiled at me. I felt a wave of relief wash over me, as if all my fears went away.

Well, it was still a struggle some days to get out there and do my shtick, but I started trying to juggle as many days as possible. It was working! I came up with the idea to make a sign to help break the ice with people, as it’s kinda hard to juggle and start a conversation, but that opened a lotta doors for me. People were starting to recognize me. I was becoming part of the community. And the fear and anxiety kept dissolving.

This continued for some time. When I was ready, I tried breaking out into other performance arts. That was a disaster, but it was beneficial nonetheless. I might not have felt the terror of breaking the mould as much anymore, but I was still hyper-awkward. Yet, I feel it helped to deliberately do something I knew would fail so I had no expectations and could learn. It actually worked to start meaningful conversations, and did the job of pushing me outside my comfort zone and giving me more experience with people.

Then…a bunch of shit happened in a short period of time. I’m going to keep this extra abridged, but essentially I got hooked up with a cult across the country (didn’t know it until I escaped), then became a woman, before I spiraled into homeless to then travel the country trying to create a sex cult built around incestuous necrophilia that eventually got me v& by the FBI. I just talked my way out of it, obviously. It was real scary at first, not knowing what to do but follow God and perpetually surrounded by people. But, I kept myself sane with my juggling. That was my rock. I wasn’t going to stop until I had superpowers.

Honestly, pretty foolish, if you ask me in hindsight what I think of this whole odyssey I went on. I don’t recommend ALL of it. Lots of hard times. Good times, too though. Lived out of garbage cans for a month after I was robbed once. Best thing that ever happened to me. Conditioned me out of my entitlement and led to me meeting my life partner.

That was the last nail in the coffin to my freedom. I don’t fear anything anymore. Well, maybe bears, but you get my message. I challenged myself to live to the extent of human comfort can allow, and it taught me how strong and capable I am. And, I got to work nonstop on my previous project of juggling my anxiety away.

Basically, what I’m saying is you gotta be the one to free yourself from what’s holding you back. It’s uncomfortable to step outside your comfort zone, but that’s the only way you can choose to recondition yourself into someone whose fight or flight response doesn’t automatically get triggered in everyday life.

You really are stronger than you think. Believe in yourself, and you can do what you think is impossible. Free will is a skill; your agency is like a muscle you can train. Just take it one step at a time, and you’ll get there. Have faith. I certainly believe in you. If I can overcome my fears and become…more normal (I’m still as weird as they come, but I own it now), then you’ve got this in the bag. Best wishes, friends.