Painful Shyness

Another issue that I struggled with as a teenager was extreme shyness and social anxiety. I was painfully shy and very uncomfortable around people I didn't know. During social interactions I longed to be free and to express myself, but I just couldn't do it. Instead, my thoughts and feelings remained trapped inside of my body while I stood passively by watching others interact. I didn't understand why I was this way and why I couldn't seem to do anything about it. I longed to go back in time to when I was a child again and totally free instead of living in this awful inhibited state.

As a result of my social difficulties and my quest for answers, I was very lonely. No one knew who I really was and the suffering I was experiencing. I couldn't talk to anyone about how painful my social struggles were and when I tried to speak to anyone about the meaning of life, I always hit dead ends.

After graduating from high school, I attended a university 60 miles outside of Chicago. Unfortunately, college life only intensified my unhappiness. I decided to major in psychology because I thought it might help me to better understand myself and find some answers to my questions. But my psychology professor soon changed my mind about that. I guess I was looking for a model of a "free" and "enlightened" person since I was so inhibited and confused. I assumed that since this professor knew so much about psychology, human nature, and himself, he might be more "together." But my experience with him was totally the opposite. I gave up on psychology at this point.

My experience with other students did nothing to alleviate my disillusionment either. Many of them seemed just as confused and inhibited as I was. I remember in particular Walter and Janet, who reminded me of a little old man and woman. Walter was always tense and hunched over like a squirrel. Janet was prim and proper like an old-maid school teacher, and always carried her briefcase around with her. They enjoyed having intellectual discussions and sparring with each other, constantly trying to outdo each other with their witty comments. I remember thinking to myself, "Whatever happened to the little boy and little girl who was inside this person not too long ago?" Somewhere along the way they had lost their spontaneity and innocence. I also remember Philip, the Donovan look-alike guitarist, who would lure girls into bed with him through his folk singing. And I remember the broken-hearted Patricia, who had fallen for him.

In contrast to the uptight odd couple was Terry, my roommate. She was bubbly, had brightly shining eyes and was full of life and always ready for fun. How I envied her! Why couldn't I be like her instead of being trapped inside of myself? Terry was always the life of the party and loved by everyone. She had a boyfriend though and often I was kicked out of my dorm room so that they could have sex.

In the meantime, I was being pressured for sex. It seemed that everyone was having sex, taking drugs and getting high on them. But sex and drugs had the opposite effect on me. Sex only magnified my feelings of alienation from others. I was lonely and hoping that this would fulfill my need for love. But after sex I only felt worse - empty and cheapened. Marijuana, likewise, had a negative effect on me. Instead of getting high, I got paranoid and went even deeper into my shell.

With of all of these experiences, I was desperately unhappy and seriously considering suicide. I remember many nights crying into my pillow and begging God to help me if he was real.

Finally, since I couldn't find happiness in the real world, I turned to the surreal world of psychedelic drugs. It was there that I had my first experiences of God, Heaven and Hell. 

Why I started this blog

To explain why I started this blog, I have to go all the way back to when I was 15 years old. At that young age I started asking questions about the meaning of life. I don’t know if other teenagers think much about these kinds of things or not, but for me, finding the answers to my questions about life became an obsession. I couldn't turn off the questions in my mind. It was like a tape recording going round and round my head that couldn’t be shut off - “What is the meaning of life? Why am I alive? Is there any purpose to life?” Before that time I guess I was more like any other typical teenage girl with the main thing on my mind being, well, boys. And before that I was just a kid who only wanted to play and have fun.

But something shifted within me after I turned 15. It was as though all of a sudden I grew up and started to become aware of the real world around me. Maybe it was brought upon by the loss of my best friend who had just moved away, and I was lonely. Or that my father suddenly disappeared from my life after years of weekend visits since my parent’s divorce, and a hole was left in my heart. Or perhaps it was because I lived in a depressing and dangerous inner city neighborhood in Chicago where I regularly saw poverty, drunkenness and despair in the lives of people around me. Or maybe it was that this was the 1960s and I was right in the middle of the sexual revolution, the drug counterculture, and the uprising of blacks, with riots in my high school and bloody fights and sexual assaults on the bus back and forth from school (I stopped taking the bus, preferring to walk the two miles each way.)

So this was the beginning of my search for the meaning of life. However, it wasn't until a few years later that I actively (and drastically) took steps to find the answers to my questions.