Alexa the Anxious
A tale of learning to play chess and having a chronically upset stomach
It is extremely common to lie when you apply for jobs. Or maybe exaggerate is the right word. You might reframe your title/job description for previous jobs to better line up with the job you are now applying for. You might embellish or aggrandize your previous work responsibilities. You might say that you are organized, a go-getter, a team player, when in reality, you are anything but.
The most common lie I’ve supplied when interviewing for new jobs is that I do well with constructive criticism and invite feedback. This may be true to some degree–I do want to make sure that I am handling my responsibilities correctly–but if I am being 100% honest, criticism is my worst enemy. I don’t want to do anything wrong, and I certainly don’t want to be perceived doing anything wrong. When I say that I invite feedback, what I mean is that I invite praise.
The implications of my distaste for criticism and love of praise are far-reaching and have impacted my life in a variety of ways. When I do something good for someone else, I always have to stop and ask myself if I am doing it for the right reason. Am I doing good because it is the right thing to do or because I want someone to think I am a good person? Would I do the same thing if no one could see me? I can–and have–taken these questions one step forward to ask: Would I do the right thing if it meant being actively disliked?
My biggest opportunity to put the last question to the test occurred while I was in grad school. To condense a long story into a small block of text, during my first year of grad school, some of my classmates made an extremely transphobic presentation that a small group of other classmates and I called out by saying something akin to, “Hey y’all, this really isn’t cool, and here are some reasons why.” In addition to commenting on the classmates’ presentation, I sent a pretty long-winded email to the program director. Her response was appropriate, there was a discussion of what was and was not in line with the Social Work Code of Ethics, and it seemed that everything was squared away.
During my second year of grad school, when another conversation on a similar topic arose and my fellow hell-raising classmates and I made similar points, the classmates who had given the presentation the previous year decided that we must be bullying them. Two classmates–very close friends–and I were called to meet with our program director, presented with a list of our perceived transgressions (evidently I am a cyber bully–who knew?), and asked to defend ourselves.
The whole ordeal was brutal. Demeaning. Demoralizing. And while there was some degree of resolution–including a visit from a representative of the university’s office of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion that classmates not involved in the mess likely found very confusing and unprompted–there are still administrators and classmates toward whom I hold deep resentment. But hey–at least I got some sort of answer to my question and know that I am capable of sticking to my convictions when it means being disliked.
I’m a big fan of personality tests and enjoy what they can reveal about you and the other individuals in your life. When I was a freshman in high school, as an assignment for my English class, we all had to take the Myers-Briggs personality test and write a paper about our “type.” I discovered that I am an infp (the “mediator”) and felt seen. Several years later, I learned about the Enneagram personality test. While I have consistently been classified as an infp, my results on the Enneagram test were less conclusive. It was a long time–until this year, actually–when I came to recognize what type I actually am: an Enneagram 9 (the “peacekeeper”).
There is a whole different discussion to be had about how much of my natural disposition and how much of my status as the middle child in my family played into my becoming the mediator and the peacekeeper in my life. Pushing that aside, there are many things that I like about my personality. I think it is good to value peace for yourself and others. I think it is good to care about feelings and be a good listener. That being said, I do often wish that I was less conflict-averse.
Some of my favorite people are Enneagram 8s. The Enneagram 8 is the “challenger.” Individuals with this personality type are bold. They are leaders. They are justice-oriented and unafraid to rock the boat. My friend Chantelle is an Enneagram 8, as is Princess Leia from Star Wars (arguably my favorite character of all time). Sometimes, when I am feeling especially anxious, I like to pretend that I am somebody else, somebody like Princess Leia who is naturally bold and fearless.
There is another discussion to be had about how much of my fear of criticism/need for praise is due to my personality and how much is due to my clinically diagnosed anxiety disorder. I have been medicated since I was 16 and in therapy since I was 17 for my anxiety and panic attacks. If you suffer from neither, count yourself lucky because they are kind of the worst. Even with a chest full of coping skills under my belt and a chemically-altered brain, my anxiety still often gets the best of me, especially physically. I always get an upset stomach when I enter an anxiety-inducing situation, and I also often get a rash across my neck. One time last week, what I thought was anxious nausea–because it honestly felt normal–turned out to be food poisoning that led to me vomiting four times in 24 hours. One time last fall, my eyes swelled shut from anxiety, and I bore shocking resemblance to Quasimodo from The Hunchback of Notre Dame for several days.
You get the point. My anxiety is bad and very annoying. So how do I fight it? Well, in addition to that good old cocktail of medication and therapy, I try new things in a controlled environment. I don’t necessarily like doing this–just as I dislike criticism, I really dislike being bad at things–but Ian is constantly reminding me that it’s good for me.
To provide an anecdote, I have recently been using an app to learn how to play chess. My brother had a phase when we were younger where he was very interested in chess. I could have learned how to play the game then, but in typical Alexa fashion, I did not like the idea of losing to my brother while I was learning, so I simply never learned. Instead, I am learning now, and I have told Ian that I will be willing to play him by Christmas. In the meantime, I have been playing against bots who adjust themselves according to your skill level. Ian was mystified by the fact that one game of chess took me almost an hour the other night because I spent so long thinking through each move.
“You don’t have to think about every single consequence for every single move,” he said. “It is okay to lose.”
No, my brain responded. It is not.
Like I said, I am working on it.
I leave you, at the end of this long and rambling piece of writing, with the following platitude: Fear gives you the opportunity to be brave. I think that the person who is afraid daily but keeps on living is infinitely braver than the person who feels no fear, and that is the person that I strive to become.
Until next time,
Alexa
Ken glowing with Barbie’s praise in the Barbie movie is very relatable.