Meadow - Posts tagged with social-anxiety

Football passes with my son

Mon, 17 Nov 2025 04:04:12 GMT

Last week, my oldest son (3y/o) and I discovered that we both enjoy playing football passes (football soccer that is). We just stand at opposite sides of the living room and I gently kick the ball towards him, and he then not-so-gently kicks it back my way.

It's also light exercise so it's good for mood and in general for getting the blood flowing! Good stuff. It also requires very little effort on my side AND I can do it while holding my youngest in my arms. Only wins here. The only problem is that I'm terrible at kicking the ball and it often ends up going in unintended directions. My son once even told me "dad why are you so bad!" 😂 well, I am bad.

I was one of those kids that never played football during recess. The contact bothered me, but really the main thing that threw me off was that I didn't really understand how the whole thing worked when I was in the midst of it. Like, how do you know who to pass the ball to? Whenever I had the ball I would usually panic and just kick it anywhere, as long as it was away from me. I spent most of the game just avoiding the ball in the first place, but somehow it often made it's way towards me.

Add the fact that I was always the last one to be picked for teams during PE and of course you end up with my current aversion to playing football.

It's funny though because I was actually quite good at other team sports. During high-school I was in both the basketball and baseball teams, and I remember feeling quite good about my skill level¹. But more than anything, I felt like a valued part of the team.

There's also the fact that I've never been any good with my feet. My upper body coordination is quite good though. I juggle (balls and clubs) and in general enjoy skill games. But my feet... I either missed the chance when they were handing out lower body coordination or (more likely) I just needed some more time than the other kids and didn't manage to keep up with the skill curve of those around me.

So I'm glad that I actually get this second chance to practice with my son. My answer to his question yesterday, about why I'm so bad, was that we're going to have to learn together, and he seems to have taken it to heart. Sometimes he even gives me tips about how to kick!

In a recent now update I discussed how I was struggling to related to my son in a positive way. This is a step in a good direction I think.

As I was writing the above it occurred to me how often this happens to us. How often we're stuck being bad at something because we won't let ourselves improve.

Like, I might feel I'm bad at writing so I don't write, but I want to. Or maybe for you it can be the same but with drawing. Or running. Or playing a musical instrument. Or I've lately also read some people are terrified about publishing their code online for fear of being judged.

We often feel "it's too late for me to learn". But that's not true. If I can learn to do proper passes then you can learn anything if you just get out of your own way. I know that I at least need to stop impeding my own growth.

~ 🌱

If I'm allowed, I felt I was actually really good at baseball. The coach would often have me bat when all the bases were filled as I was a consistent home run. Yeah, I'm bragging. Sue me. At the same time, this sort of external validation helped me grow faster, and provided me the self-assurance to try new things. ↩

Love what you think are your weaknesses

Mon, 24 Feb 2025 02:50:41 GMT

Yesterday, while driving back home, I had the realization that I should love all the things I usually don't love about myself.

For example, I've always envied those who can keep a crowd's attention and awe with just their voice. I'm unable to do this. Sometimes I can be very outgoing, but most of the time I do suffer from social anxiety which keeps me back from exploding as my real self. However, this has also given me the space to observe more deeply how people feel and what they do. I think that because of this I've developed a pretty good ability at judging emotions and motivations. I guess I envy extroverts because it's something I feel is desirable (maybe a cultural influence), but the truth is that I really do love this part of myself. I should embody it more, bring it in more, and even leverage the alternative forces it provides rather than trying to become something that has never really felt natural. Be grateful rather than ashamed.

There's also my fear and aversion of medical things and my tendency towards hypochondria. I've battled with these most of my life and would definitely be happy to see them gone. However, my struggle to find a way to cope with the opposing pressures—which at times felt were causing me to feel I was literally going insane—has also pushed me to find ways to grow as a person, to reflect and meditate. Looking back, I would never have gotten to where I am today without these internal forces, and because of that I love them. Though I would still like to grow past them ☺️

I'm sure there're other things. Lately I've been thinking about whether it would be better for me to write in my main language rather than in English. But the truth is that writing in my native language feels very strange, especially because I almost don't read any literature written in it so my vocabulary is lacking. I'm still learning to love this, but it has indeed forced me to pay closer attention to language in general and to the art of crafting written pieces. Sometimes this thought inhibits me, but some other wonderful times, it sets me free(-er) from the bounds of social norm and cultural conventions.

Love what you think are your weaknesses—they are really your life's main strengths in disguise. They are the forces that push you to become you.

A traumatizing layover in Mexico airport

Sat, 04 May 2024 01:48:00 GMT

I'm soon traveling to Seattle for work. Surprisingly, I'm more anxious about this trip than seems reasonable, and I'm not sure why. It's not the first time I've traveled, nor is it even the first time I've gone to Seattle for work. It's actually the second time I'm going there. Now that I think about it, I can see how the first time was kind of traumatizing in some ways. Perhaps talking about it would help me work through it.

Let's start from the beginning...

Last time I went, I flew from my country to Mexico City, and then from there to Seattle. I took the same route on the way back. Overall, it was fairly quick and was by far the best option offered by the travel agency that the company I work for uses (all the other routes were waaay longer or had a lot more legs).

My way there was... ok. The flight itself was great, but Mexico City's airport was chock-full of people. I had trouble finding a place to sit down, so I took advantage of the situation and put on an audiobook while I walked around the airport looking for a nice place to sit. After a while, I was extremely lucky to stumble upon one of the nicest and most delicious Mexican restaurants I've ever been to: Vuela Carmela (you should definitely check it out if you find yourself in MEX).

Vuela Carmela became my haven for the four hours or so I still had to wait. I sat down to read a book while I drank some cappuccinos and had something to eat. Despite the airport being quite full (as I mentioned before), the restaurant was fairly empty, and the waiters were very friendly and happy to chat.

I was happy that I would fly through Mexico on my way back so I could try something new from the menu. I only had a two hour layover on my way back though... Or at least that's what I thought, but I was very mistaken.

... The flight to Seattle went fine, work stuff happened and was fine ...

Then came the time to go back home. Once I arrived at the MEX airport again, I was completely baffled by the astronomical, incomprehensible, mind-boggling number of people who were delayed there due to the Popocatépetl volcano erupting. We're talking about people sleeping in the corridors, near the bathrooms, everywhere... Though perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself.

While in the taxi on my way to the Seattle airport, the news broadcast from the radio was saying something about an eruption somewhere, but I was paying little attention; still groggy with sleep and not having yet had my morning coffee. It turns out that Mexico City is really close (as in 70 km/43 miles close) to the Popocatépetl volcano, which had decided that was the right time to start erupting a shit-ton of smoke and ashes. This, of course, is not good for airplanes, so all flights were grounded for two days. I got there at the beginning of day one.

Fast forward to when I landed in MEX.

At the time, I was completely oblivious to what was happening. I instead checked the flights board and saw that my assigned gate had not yet been posted but the flight read "ON TIME", so all was good. I went to have lunch at Vuela Carmela, where I met the same waiter from last time. I stayed there a bit and then went to check the flights board again. Now my gate was posted, so I made my way there.

... I was actually going to talk in detail about everything that happened, but perhaps we can just summarize it by saying that the flight kept being delayed, delayed, delayed, delayed. It was marked as canceled almost 12 hours after its expected departure time.

By this time, it was already quite late (11pm or so), and I think I was just too dazed to think much about what was happening, so I just went along with the flow.

Some people from Aeromexico (the airline I was traveling with) came to tell us we should make our way to the Aeromexico counters so they could issue a new ticket for the next day. It sounded pretty simple in principle, but remember the mind-boggling amount of people I mentioned before? Well, MEX is served in it's great majority by Aeromexico flights, meaning that almost all of them ended up in the queue with me!

I kid you not when I say the "queue" (if such a thing could be called that) went from the inner counters of Aeromexico, through airport, outside, turned the corner, and far off into the drop-off area on the street. But this still didn't deter my optimism. I stood there, almost half a mile from my goal that was the counter, thinking it would probably take just a couple of hours. Oh silly me.

What followed were almost six or so hours, just standing there, moving very very slowly. I made some friends, a couple of Mexican people standing behind me, some folks who were actually meant to board my same flight back home, a polish kid and his mother. As time dragged its leaden feet, people would spontaneously leave the queue. The smart ones left with the goal of coming back later when there were fewer people, while the ones beaten by the queue left in despair to try and talk to someone. At the same time, new people came in, a constant flux while we all moved together as one.

Honestly, my memories of what happened during this time are very fuzzy. I remember that for a while I listened to my trusty audiobook, then read a bit, then wrote a bit in a notebook I was carrying.

I remember there was a lady in front of me who kept looking back at me. I smiled at her a couple of times, hopefully in a friendly and commiserating way. We never spoke though. At one point she caught my eye and made as if to speak to me and, in a panic, I literally hid myself behind my notebook (as in raising it up to my face).

I still remember feeling the heat on my face as I saw her from the corner of my eye, just staring at me with her mouth open, an expression of disbelief on her face (or that's how I remember it at least). I felt bad about this later, she didn't deserve my childish behavior. I wanted to apologize, but shortly after I had decided this was the right thing to do, she left the queue; a friend she was with had come to get her saying they should go and buy new ticket with another airline instead of waiting for who knows how many more hours. I guess I'll never get to say sorry. I didn't mean it, didn't mean anything by it. My mind was just not working properly.

The remaining hours went by, inexorably. As the Aeromexico counter came into view, I found myself among a nice group of people. I wouldn't really say friends but the silent hours together had molded us into some kind of group, hammered us into a sort of support system. By this time, it was around 5 am, and TV cameras started to come in to film the large number of people — the queue was still as big as ever, with new planes landing all the while and feeding its insatiable hunger. One of the people I was with, a Mexican guy who was on his way to visit his son somewhere to the south, was actually interviewed by one of the major local news channels (I appeared in the background and waved at the camera, but they'll probably cut that part out if they air it at all).

Eventually, we got to the counter, and at that precise moment our group disbanded. I feel kind of bad that everyone in the group exchanged phone numbers except for me. I had many chances to offer my number or ask theirs, but I just... didn't. Perhaps something to explore in a future post.

It was around 10 am when I was almost right at the Aeromexico counter. I could've sworn I saw a dear ex-coworker standing a couple of people away right in front of me. I didn't see her face but she was the same height, same build, and had the same true raven black hair. I wanted to call out to her, but (again) didn't. I spent my remaining time at the airport that day looking for her, but of course, I did not see her again.

Finally. Finally I got to the counter and got to speak to a very friendly lady from Aeromexico who printed me a new boarding ticket for a flight that was leaving the next morning (on day number three). I was already very tired so I took a shuttle to one of those generic airport hotels and slept. I got at the hotel I think around 11 am (after sorting everything out at the airport) and set an alarm to wake me up for dinner. I slept right through and woke up at 5am the next morning feeling completely refreshed, in time to take the shuttle back for my flight.

The rest of the story went fairly well. I had breakfast at Vuela Carmela once again before finally boarding my flight home.

So... it seems I did have some stuff to work through, especially around the memories of "the queue". It's funny, but while writing about that part, I almost felt my mind slipping into that same hypnotic, sleepless state.

The good news about this new trip to Seattle is that I won't be going through Mexico. Even if I wanted to, the travel agency didn't give me Mexico as a layover option.

If you're still here then I thanks you for reading!

~ 🌻🛩

The Deli Asocial

Sun, 07 Apr 2024 14:03:00 GMT

It was again time for the dreaded deli counter. Around once a month Gio's wife sent him over to the supermarket to buy stuff, which was all fine and good; at least the part that you could do by yourself... At least the part you did not need to speak to anyone.

Many years back, the government created a way to recognize asocial members of society. In an uncharacteristic moment of cleverness they came up with a very simple, yet effective solution: the deli counter in supermarkets.

Today was Gio's first time in over 20 years buying cheese and cold-cuts all by himself. Society was brutal in purging asocial members and, while he didn't think he was one, his doubts scared him so he had done his best to avoid going alone. But today it couldn't be helped.

He got there and was faced by the usual friendly, aged clerk. He puts up a convincing front but everyone knows he is really an undercover government official.

“What can I help you with, Sir?” he said.

Gio noticed the judge looking at him. There’s always at least one judge. Always. They have the appearance of old, harmless ladies, but do not be fooled! They are extremely good observers, and are trained to expertly judge the actions of others.

“Sir?” said the clerk.

“Yes, I would like some Iberico ham please.”

He had studied this part. There are many different kinds of ham and not knowing that is a one-way ticket to DOOM.

“Sure, how much do you want?”

Damn, he had not prepared well enough for this.

“Err, give me, … 120 grams” said Gio.

He could feel his hands starting to sweat, and the penetrating gaze of the judge aimed directly at him. He stumbled, and they all knew it. He must tread carefully now.

“And how thin do you want me to slice it?” said the clerk in a clipped voice as he turned on the meat slicer. He was no longer smiling.

This was just too much for Gio.

“I.. I… Could you... Could you cut it, thin?” he said with a not-so-hopeful grin.

Silence. That’s all they answered. Both the judge and the clerk were glaring at him. They were somewhat surprised; both of them had been in service for over 20 years and neither had ever encountered an actual asocial.

The judge spoke “You have been individuated, asocial, there’s no room for you in our society. You are sentenced to DOOM!”, the lady pulled on her cane, a trapdoor open below Gio and he fell.

DOOM was known as a concept to everyone, but Gio soon discovered it was a steel chute about 20 meters deep, with a lava pit at the bottom.

As he was falling, a single thought went through his mind

“This is absurd.”

He then plunged into the lava and the world was rid of an undesirable asocial.

On the woes of holiday small talk

Mon, 25 Dec 2023 19:58:00 GMT

Happy holidays! I thought I wasn't going to get much time to write today, considering all the family meetups and whatnot. But my son is having a nap right now and I stayed with him in the car while my wife went and helped with the preparations. I think she knew I needed some time to prepare to go through the coming afternoon.

I've been giving some though about why sometimes I feel like I'm inferior to others in some way. And I think this feeling acts on different levels.

For example, I have pretty good confidence in myself as a programmer, and even feel comfortable talking to others about this topic. Supposing the conversation revolves around technology, and that I don't need to insert myself in that conversation to begin with, I know I can participate at great lengths with little to no discomfort.

Ah, but if we're talking about smalltalk then we're in problems. Smalltalk, the bane of my existence. It's somewhat ironic though. If there's someone I don't know then I have no problems talking to them for a moderate amount of time. But if I do know them then I start worrying that maybe they're not interested in what I have to say. This is even more noticeable if the person in question is a family member I rarely see, and worse still if it's someone from my wife's side of the family.

In very extreme cases I find myself changing how I talk so as to try and please that person. This makes me go through great lengths to try and discern what that person wants to hear, what they want to talk about, and (most importantly) the reactions they have to what I'm saying. This becomes very taxing over time, and not enjoyable at all. I feel absolutely drained when this happens for an extended period, and end up feeling like I'm socially inept and hopeless, with my self-esteem on the floor.

For all the effort I put into being authentic on here (which I have to say I've been able to do with a modicum of success), what comes out of my mouth when I speak is anything but. This only exacerbates the problem when I imagine how others might be noticing this as we talk.

Even when exchanging emails with someone (which you might have noticed if we've chatted via email), I worry about being a nice person and often end up writing in a convoluted and garbled way.

I have a brother who is very outgoing, and one of the few people in my life I can honestly say I can talk authentically to (the others being my wife, and perhaps my parents (sometimes)). I once told him about this problem in passing and he laughed and thought I was joking. He dismissed the comment saying "that's awful! No one feels like they're worthless and have nothing to contribute to a conversation". He, of course, has had the luck not to have to deal with depression and social anxiety. It's overstated, but I haven't brought up the topic again since then.

When I think about how to get more confident socially I think of how to improve my smalltalk skills. This has brought me to read books such as How to win friends and influence people, and observe how others go about it.

Of all my efforts (which to be honest have been half-hearted at best) the main insight I've gained is that people just say whatever they want as long as it is slightly related to what the other person said (and often without even listening to what was said to begin with). Just speaking their minds, in a most literal sense.

That's weird to me. When I imagine a great conversator I think of someone who pays close attention to the other person, listens and responds with empathy, and provides insightful comments and promptings.

... Now that I say it out loud, it sounds like I'm describing a therapist ...

Maybe what I need to do here, as in most other areas of my life, is to stop worrying about it so much and instead be less cautious; just speak my mind with little care for those listening, vomit my thoughts out there without any regards for the effects they might have. Ahh, those truly sound like the traits of a great conversator.

Just kidding. I'm sure this can be done in a thoughtful manner while respecting my own integrity and other's attention. But I need some humor to get me through the coming bout of holiday smalltalk.