Several months ago I began attending a meet-up group composed entirely of people who, like me, had problems coping with shyness and anxiety disorders.
It seemed like the ideal place to meet people and besides that, quite a nice and gentle way to reintroduce myself to the world at large. Knowing how sensitive and vulnerable I was on a mental level, it was a comforting thought to imagine that these people I was about to introduce myself to had some idea about what I was going through.
Heading in, despite being full in the knowledge that all members had some issue with anxiety, I still didn’t feel connected to them. I’ve mentioned before that I have this tendency to isolate myself from everyone else, keep my own problems locked in, isolated, separate, while everyone else is completely apart from me and goes through life with a completely clear conscious. The people I met at this group seemed so in control to me, so assured.
I arrived to my first meeting too early, and so when I appeared at the courtyard, it was full of people chatting, eating, sipping drinks, all seated around various tables. Trying not to lose my composure and all the while wondering where on Earth the meet-up people were at that point, I seated myself awkwardly at some random chair somewhere, and just to make the appearance of busyness, I began to take occasional sips of water.
I kept sitting there all by myself, surrounded by lively crowds of people, shouting, and laughing, friends and family all congregated together this one sunny afternoon, and I, all alone in the middle, gripping desperately on to my bottle of water, when at last my name was called. I was saved, but by whom, I forget, I can only say I am grateful to him.
I exchanged a few words with two guys, then I clumsily made my way across to the large table where the members would end up gathering. I sat near the head of the table, to the far right. The group organizer, Gavin, placed himself at the top. Not all of the seats were taken, I think around seven people made it all up, it has been the case sometimes that a member will feel stressed and bail out at the last minute. But I was satisfied it wasn’t such a crowded setting, yet the dialogue flowed freely enough, nevertheless.
As it was my first meeting, there were definite moments when I felt like the outsider looking in, and I would subdue myself. Still, Gavin seemed to recognize that it being my first meeting made it difficult for me, thus he made repeated attempts to initiate conversation with me. The primary success here was that we discovered we shared somewhat similar interest in video games.
Well, he likes the Sega Dreamcast system, which came as something of a revelation to me, as it was such a commercial flop all over the world. The truth is, while I do like the DC, in our household, my brother is the really big fan. But I played up my enthusiasm as I genuinely was excited to find someone who liked such an under-appreciated console, and it was the kind of topic I could chat really easily about. So I said to him, “so, you know Jet Set Radio? You know Rez? Soul Calibur? Shenmue?” And on and on. He was pretty hardcore. He even knew about this discontinued gaming magazine called Gamers Republic. I couldn’t believe it.
I continued going to these meetings, and Gavin was pretty much the only person I spoke to. Maybe snatches of dialogue, here and there, with some of the others, whenever I was coming and going, but few exceptions besides that. The more meetings I did attend, the more I realized how much I connected to Gavin as a person. Not only superficial interests like sharing a preference for a particular video game system; but our mannerisms, the outlook we held towards the world, towards society, we felt and perceived the same.
Sadly though I didn’t go to many of those meetings. Partly as it felt daunting to go into the city every week – the trip to Flinders Street took around 45 minutes, not counting the walk to the station. The main reason was probably the mental strain each meet up took out of me. I’d enjoy going out to an extent, but returning home always felt like a blessing, like it was my sanctuary.