Dear Everyone That Calls Me,
I am the worst. Who doesnāt talk to the people they love and care about? Answer: me.
Itās a big joke nowadays that no one uses their phone to actually talk to people with their own voices. Guilty as charged. Guilty in the 3rd degree. (Why does it only go up to degree 3? Why isnāt it like guilty in the 10th degree?) Anyway, yeah, Iām guilty.
Iāve told you all that I have phone anxiety and donāt like talking on the phone. It started out as a joke but now I am convinced I have a real mental condition. Iām so sorry.
Love,
CM
Update: after a quick google search, yep, itās official, Iām screwed. Apparently, my condition is called telephobia, a subset of social anxiety. Great.
Hereās the conundrum: the people Iām afraid to talk to on the phone are the ones I truly love and care about. So why do I run like a vampire in the wake of the morning sun when the phone rings?
I used to answer phones. Back in the day, Iād even race my sister to see who could get to the ringing phone first. āI got it!ā Ironically, this was in the age of no caller ID so you had no idea who was on the other end of the line. You just rolled the dice and answered. So archaic then. So horrifying now. So what the hell happened?
I just donāt know. Time? Learned behaviors? My mind steadily launching a full-on assault as my own worst enemy? Yes, yes and yes.
I am not actively trying to avoid people per se by not answering the phone or initiating phone calls. I think Iām just terrified that I wonāt have anything to say. I feel like a turtle with his head out of the shell – exposed, vulnerable.
When youāre young you are so unselfaware you donāt think about that kind of stuff. You just exist. You just be. You live unencumbered by well, yourself. But then life happens, you learn to fear things, become jaded by things, and your behavior becomes a reflection of all the life that has affected you.
I cringe now when the phone rings or when I have to make a call. I actually need to make a dentist appointment soon and have been putting it off. Not because I fear the dentist. I fear the phone call setting up the appointment more. Freakin insane.
Okay, okay, I can actually buck up and call the dentist – um, maybe tomorrow. 
But people I know know (double āknowā = really know), man thatās tough. What will we talk about? What if there is an uncomfortable silence that awkwardly hangs in the vast ether between my phone and theirs? We both will know itās there, canāt pretend itās not. What if they take the silence to mean that weāre growing apart? Or worse, maybe they take it to mean that I donāt care.
Then panic will set in. It will be my fault, my words frozen by my fear. Then I will be stuck – nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Crash and burn.
Now hereās another fucked up part of all this. I can talk to people in person no problem. Hell, I do it for a living as a server so I better be able to. Especially after a couple drinks, Iāll talk your ear off. Maybe the problem with the phone is that I know the other person canāt see the many hand/body movements I make that subconsciously alleviate my anxiety while talking. They canāt see my hands gesticulating ($100 word right there), canāt see a wink or smirk when Iām being sarcastic or canāt feel a consoling pat on the shoulder like they would if we were in person. All those nonverbal crutches are gone.
You might say, well how about face timing then?
Are you freakin nuts? Thatās somehow even scarier!
I also worry that maybe I’ll say something wrong (at least Iāll perceive it as wrong) and after we hang up I’ll go over and over and over it in my mind wishing I hadn’t said it, or at least had said it differently. Then Iāll worry what the other person is thinking about my stumbling, fumbling attempt at normal conversation. Iāll obsess and obsess, then obsess some more, and won’t be able to get it out of my mind. Iāll convince myself I am the worst and the rest of my day, week, month will be tainted with these thoughts as they remain stuck in the syrupy goo of my neurosis.
In person, I am still concerned about saying the wrong thing, but to a considerably lesser degree. Probably should have gotten that masters degree in psychology to figure out the reason for this conversational wreckage.
I say all this because I used to think I was just weird (well I am) but now I feel maybe Iām a tad less weird than I thought. I just have issues. Even the issue of phone phobia may seem crazy to others but itās real for me.
Do you have some kind of phobia or āweirdā issue youāre dealing with? Iām here to tell you you are not alone. I didnāt even think this phobia I have was real let alone had an official name. That makes me feel a little better, like Iām not just making this all up in my head. Well my head/mind/anxiety is actually the heart of the problem here but you know what Iām saying.
Us weird, anxiety-plagued people need to stick together. Safety in numbers. Feeling like youāre not alone in a sea of neuroses can help calm the swells.
If you feel like talking about your weird stuff, please feel free to email me, obviously donāt call me .
How do you cope with it? Iād really like to know because Iām not quite sure how to fix my problem. I can go all psychoanalytical and maybe try exposure therapy aka force myself to use the phone.
Or operant conditioning which is changing behavior through rewards and punishment. You made a phone call! Hereās a cookie! You didnāt make that phone call! No cookie!
Easier said than done. But hey, maybe Iāll give it a try. Maybe.
And now under the heading of āComplete and Utter Ironyā, as I was finishing up writing this mess my sister called. I talked to her on the phone for an hour. Afterwards, I didnāt reward myself with a cookie. Didnāt need to. I realized the reward was feeling closer with my sister.
Maybe thereās hope for me yet.
CM
2/14/21
