how do you silence a voice that won’t go away?

*TW: Discussions of mental health and anxiety*

Good morning, Cassie!

My Momentum extension on Google Chrome greets me the same way every morning when I open my laptop. A comforting message that has followed me the past four years of college. A reminder that someone, or something, is waiting to see me every day, even if it’s AI generated. A constant voice telling me, “Hey Cassie, someone’s thinking of you.” It’s a weird sense of comfort, a digital friend always by my side. I don’t really know how else to explain it besides that.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been an extrovert. My parents have told me many stories from my childhood, most of which involve the numerous times they practically had to pry me away from social situations.

Fortunately, making friends has never been hard for me. For many, small talk is something that is dreaded. For me, it’s a place where I thrive. Navigating the “how are you’s?” and the “what’s up’s?” have become my strength.

Because of this, I’ve often become a social “floater.” Why? Because I like to talk. I like to engage with people. I like having friends in nearby and faraway places, providing a social security blanket for me everywhere I go.

Of course, I have my main circle, my “girlfriends” if you will. I have people who I’m vulnerable with, and I am grateful for them every day.

But aside from them, there is another constant presence in my life that outweighs all these relationships. Some of you might have it, too.

“Why did she look at me like that?”

“Fuck. Did I really just do that?

“Oh my god, she absolutely judged everything I just said.”

“You’re burdening them, just leave them alone.”

“Jesus Cassie, maybe you should just stop talking.”

My voice. Well, not necessarily my voice. The little birdie in my head telling me that I’m unimportant. Irrelevant. A screw up. Not worth anyone’s time.

For being such an extrovert, you’d be surprised with how much I struggle socially. Maybe not outwardly, but inwardly.

Every interaction I have, I replay and rewind. I analyze the shit out of it. I think about what I could’ve done better. I critique like the director of a play, but my actions are the main character.

Although I didn’t realize it, I’ve had this voice in my head since I was probably in middle school. I questioned why I was one of the only girls left out of a classmate’s birthday party, and attributed it to the fact that maybe they thought I was annoying. I wondered why the boys in the class didn’t choose me to slow dance with at our 8th grade semi-formal, and that little voice convinced me that my pre-pubescent self wasn’t as pretty as the other girls.

And since then, I can’t seem to tell that voice to shut the fuck up.

Believe me, I’ve been working on it. But it’s been hard. When your longest relationships is with the voice telling you that you’re simply not enough, it’s hard to call it quits. You start to convince yourself it’s real. All the things it’s saying are true.

In my darkest moments, it has led me to self-sabotage. I’ve retreated from friendships because I convinced myself their distance was personal. When the weekend rolls around, sometimes I refrain from socializing to avoid the risk of overthinking the simplest of interactions.

Having social anxiety makes me a far from perfect friend, I am aware of that. I take things really personally. I read into the smallest things. I ruminate, a lot. I expect a lot out of my relationships, wanting my friends to make their intentions clear. I need my boyfriend to remind me that he cares about me every day, just so that I constantly feel secure (yes, words of affirmation is my love language).

It’s a constant battle. One between my extroverted, chatty personality, and the intellectualized voice in my head trying to tear me to the ground.

“Don’t take things so personally!”

That’s probably the worst advice you could give to someone with social anxiety. Quite frankly, our mind doesn’t allow us the luxury of being objective. Anxiety goes with its gut, no questions asked.

So how do you silence it?

I don’t think I’ve even found the answer to that question. But I’m learning to be mindful of those anxiety-ridden thoughts. Learning to take them into consideration when necessary, but also finding better solutions.

I like to compare it to solving a math problem. Believing that voice in your head is one way we can solve the problem. While it is important to keep this method (my anxious thoughts) in mind, maybe there’s a better way we can solve the problem instead. Maybe we can use a method that’s easier, less stressful. This is a really weird example, but for some reason it works.

For the record, I’m also in therapy, I’m not out here trying to act like I know more than licensed psychologists. I’ve been working on trying to learn to silence that voice in my head with my therapist, and while progress is slow, I’m still proud of trying.

I wish I could leave you all with some big, show-stopping, story book ending to this post. But honestly, that wasn’t really why I wanted to write this. I just wanted to be raw. Real. Honest. Because in order to challenge the stigma surrounding mental health and anxiety, we need to keep it real.