When I said that I had plans … I lied. What it really is to have is social anxiety.

"I have girlfriends for a wine and cheese party. Would you like to come? "

I've been touched to be included in this recent textured invitation from a client. Part of me really wanted to go, especially since he is an adorable person and most of my social interactions are currently with my preschooler. But the idea of ​​getting into a group of people I did not know and making small discussions was overwhelming.

"Thank you very much for the invitation, but I have plans that night," I said. At the moment I justified myself (she did not need to know that my plans were watching) Netflix – alone), but I always feel terrible about lying. I am convinced that guilt will be written on my face the next time I see it.

Many people are excited when they receive an invitation to an event. I am nauseated. Not because of the people involved (usually), but because are involved persons. Although I have learned to identify him as such in recent years, I have lived my whole life in social anxiety.

As a teenager and young adult, I forced myself into uncomfortable social situations even though I was overwhelmed by excess because I thought that my "shyness" was something that I had to overcome. I thought that cold sweat, shaking hands, pounding heart, tight throat, misty thoughts and annoying hot flashes would surely fade away once the ice broke. Sometimes this has been the case, but most often it is not the case and still is not the case.

I am comfortable with several close friends, but from the moment a group grows beyond the boundaries of my circle of trust, I can feel the anxiety monster animate, reviving all my deep fears of being judged (and not being up to it). When this happens, my survival strategy goes away: watch, listen, hug the periphery of a room and create lasting bonds with pets.

People often confuse my relative silence in groups with distance, but I shut up because I weigh every word before pronouncing it, given how my contribution to the conversation will be received, terrified, it will mimic me. will expose as fraud I convince myself that I am.

Even if I seem comfortable during an interaction, I will spend days, maybe even weeks, dissecting it, focusing on what I'm convinced myself to be social gaffes – basically , torture me. It's exhausting.

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Like many people with anxiety, I have a high level of functioning and my discomfort is usually not obvious to others (my fellow teachers had the habit of noticing how calm I was and serene, even though I was in a scary chaos). I will attend events or go into situations that make me feel uncomfortable, whether for professional reasons, wanting to see friends or for the overwhelming desire not to disappoint or disappoint. offend others. But I do it at a cost.

You see, social anxiety can trigger and feed more generalized anxiety for me.

I "succeeded" by forcing myself to ignore it as much as possible and move on. Not a good strategy.

In recent years, a lot of "life" has occurred, with many unexpected challenges. Finally, the anxiety consumed me to the point of not being able to ignore it and I found myself scrutinizing a dark abyss that froze my throat. Never, NEVER, do I want to find myself in this precipice. This experience has taught me that my mental health at to be a priority. It's not a cost that I'm willing to pay any longer.

I do not avoid all encounters and social interactions. When I feel good, I like to connect with others. I cherish my friendships and I appreciate the opportunity to create new ones. It's just that some types of interactions are more stressful for me and sometimes, depending on other factors in my life at the time, I have to avoid them to keep feeling good. . Ninety-nine percent of the time, it has nothing to do with the person whose invitation I refuse – a really honest case: "It's not you, that's Is me. "

So, why the guilt?

I do not feel guilty about refusing invitations if I am physically ill or injured. So why am I ashamed to admit that I feel mentally fragile? When I visited my doctor last year, apologizing for my panic and uncontrollable tears and the fact that I wanted to try some anti anxiety medications, she did not feel like it. asked if I would feel bad asking for help for an injured leg. Of course not!

There is the impression that there is a false misconception in our society that mental illness can be fought. Many people manage to hide it when it is likely to hurt feelings or annoy others (as I have tried to do for most of my life). But even if an illness is made invisible, it is still there; it must be treated just as much as a fracture, a disease or consequences.

Thanks to recent public awareness campaigns and the fact that more and more people are sharing their personal stories, mental illness is becoming a less taboo topic in general discussions and I 'confessed' myself as a victim of anxiety in several publications. Complete strangers know my mental state and yet … I'm still not ready to tell anyone, in real life: "Thank you so much for including me in the invitation, but Social gatherings are a trigger of my anxiety and a challenge lately, so I will move on. "

Let's be realistic here. If you are not affected by anxiety, a small part of yourself would not think: Wow, that sounds extreme. It's just wine and cheese! You may feel a little offended, or ask yourself if you have done anything to offend me.

Whereas if a person refuses an invitation because of physical injury or illness, you would probably not give him a second thought. You would not want to take it personally. I sometimes say that I'm busy because the last thing I want to do to avoid triggering social anxiety is to provoke another and potentially damaging a relationship.

Is it a sustainable solution? No, I appreciate honesty and it creates a lot of dissonance in me not being totally honest with people, especially those close to my heart. But, at least in my mind, this is the best way to deal right now. Writing about it helps me to be more courageous and brings closer and closer to the general conversation about the anxiety of my personal relationships.

I hope that someday, to decline an invitation for mental health reasons will be as acceptable to others (and me) as to say: "Sorry; can not do it – I have the flu. "

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This article originally appeared on HuffPost.