10 Things to Know About Anxious Extroverts

1. We are often torn between showing a result and hiding it, fearing that it will not be good enough. Extroverts thrive on positive feedback. Not all of us are blessed with the ability to be satisfied with ourselves without it. However, negative feedback tears us apart. This means one critical comment can make us rethink our ability to be "good enough".
2. Anxiety often manifests itself as tenacity. I want that solo. I will practice until the keys on my flute fall off so I can get it. I just know I want it. I want those grades. I will study until I have a raging headache. I want to be good enough. I'll do more and more so I can reach that standard! We often find ourselves pursuing goals as an attempt to divert ourselves from our anxious thoughts. This, however, often fails because more expectations lead to more anxieties and it snowballs downhill from there.
3. We don't always come off as extroverted. Unfortunately, the stimulation we crave fuels anxiety. We need breaks from it every now and then from the hustle and bustle the world, even more so with anxiety. Being overcharged is as detrimental as being drained. An overcharged extrovert may find themselves feeling tense and irritable and, thus, need to drain to counteract the effects of overcharge.
4. Performance is important to us. Performing arts tend to attract anxious extroverts (really, anxious people in general), but doing well at work, school, social events, and even home is performing. We don't let our anxieties show and can even forget them in the midst of our surroundings while performing. 
5. We are, more often than not, hero types. Many of us would love to be your knight in shining armor--if we weren't so concerned about doing something wrong. We love rescuing and protecting, but are reluctant to be rescued and protected ourselves. The thought of burdening anyone with our anxieties will utterly destroy us. Anxious people are known to be compassionate and, coupled with an extrovert's audacity, the combination makes the perfect (if there is such a thing) hero.
6. Like our introverted counterparts, we seldom judge. We are likely to pursue your interest alongside you, even if we may not like it ourselves. The general rule is that anxious people are quick to recognize the battles of others and acknowledge that people have different backgrounds, temperaments, learning styles, internal motivations, and distributions of intelligences. However, us extroverts are more likely to approach you about things we notice in you. 
7. Small talk is a diversion and a tool. We want that deep existential conversation, but we take steps to get there. Small talk is often the first step. Going too deep too quickly scares people and we have no intention of doing that. However, the last thing we want to be is a boring extrovert that only small talks. Help us get to the next step. Don't call it shallow or pointless when we likely built up an incredible amount of courage to work up the guts to say something.
8. The prospect of leadership is as daunting as it is inviting. A chance to instill our values onto others? Why not? Then again, power tends to corrupt. We despise failure too. Letting down the people we lead the worst of failures. However, when we lead, we do it well. We are understanding and empathetic, yet driven individuals. We do not lead people into ditches because we know what it's like to be stuck in a ditch ourselves. 
9. Extroversion does not nullify the effects of anxiety. As I mentioned before, extroverts often know how to perform for an audience. However, that doesn't mean our act can't fall apart. It tends to do so at the most inconvenient of times as well. There's nothing like trying to contain a full blown panic attack in the middle of a test or band rehearsal.  
10. We are tenacious to a fault. Us anxious extroverts share the blessing/curse of not knowing when to quit. While this comes in handy for achieving our goals, it can tear us apart if we don't know when we have exceeded our limits. This leads to burnout, frustration, anhedonia, and getting caught in what I call the good enough loop: "If I can do this, I will be good enough!" Even if we are overachievers, our anxiety is still valid and should be recognized.

If You Think Math is "Good For Me"

I know you just want me to do well in life and, as of now, school is required in order to find other opportunities. Math is a core subject in school and one needed to graduate. We learn a variety of subjects to enhance the mind in all its areas in order to prepare for real life. However, the subject of math in school causes (and/or exacerbates) a great deal of anxiety for, not only me, but many other students, the kind that utterly robbed me of my self-confidence and dreams for the future.

I only hate academic math. I do not hate all of math. To do so would be a travesty. Who could hate architecture, medicine, computers, art, and combinations of these things? Then again, who could love sitting at a desk expecting an adequate number for your numbers on a page? Who could love sweaty palms and dizziness that result just from entering the room? Who could love failed quiz after failed quiz despite honestly trying your hardest? I cannot love the nausea, fatigue, and headaches that came routinely with math. I cannot love how I could barely eat because my sympathetic nervous system was on overdrive. On one occasion, I felt like my head was vibrating.

I get that all subjects have benefits and drawbacks, but is exposing me to something that makes me physically ill on a regular basis really all that good for me? This happened to me every time I was in math class and was almost specific to this class (except for chemistry on a few occasions). I had no other option other than to tough it out, hide my symptoms, and crank out the grades. I did everything math class-related with no passion or motivation.

Taking everything else into account, I consider myself lucky to have survived sophomore year. Yes, "survived" is the correct term. I've considered suicide as, not just a viable option, but the option for me. Handful after handful of psyllium pills with each attempt (seven total, I think), never did the trick, though. They never got lodged. I was blessed/cursed with a strong esophagus. I've considered driving a knife through my ribs, but I was not prepared to suffer. Such ideas often resurfaced in math class, where I regularly felt worthless. I would have fallen on a pencil if I didn't keep forgetting to bring them.

You know very well that I am not a lazy student, at least not if you consider showing up to something that made my physical and mental health suffer greatly just to crank out some number because I need it to graduate lazy. Every quiz I've retaken and every half-completed homework assignment just reinforced that I was a failure, that I couldn't do anything correctly. This led to anhedonia, a gray cloud that turned even the music I love into mere noise. Even language brought no joy to me.

This is everything math classes did for me. I don't understand how repeated exposure to something that hurts me with no tangible redeeming benefit is good for me. If the benefit is a "test of character", tell me what trudging through a morass of numbers with no motivation says about my character. Perhaps it says that I am obedient with a good work ethic, a "good girl". Perhaps it says that I am too cowardly to follow my dreams. Either way, I can never consider math classes "good for me", especially when they almost killed me.

Song: Lost One's Weeping

Artist: Neru (Dub by JubyPhonic)

Language: English dubbed from Japanese

Song: World Domination-How To 

Artist: Neru

Language: Japanese

Song: Re-Education

Arist: Neru (cover by Kradness and Reol)

Language: Japanese

Did We Really Choose it Right Saying We're Okay This Way?

What does a teacher see when writing grades into their gradebook? Perhaps they see intellect. Perhaps they see effort. They might even see a student's interest or the lack thereof in their particular field. A student's "good" and "bad" days might be apparent in the numbers. The distribution of their students' intelligences related to the subject as well as trends and patterns can be found in the string of numbers called grades.

Much information can be milked from strings of numbers. However, numbers can only tell so much. Guess the students' emotional states, life circumstances, and what's on their hearts. Good luck doing that. You might assume that the students with okay grades are doing okay, but that's not always true! Likewise, the kid you envy for achieving milestones every minute could be the one hating themselves at the end of the day for not doing more. Your colleague/classmate who always seems to get awards could be the one thinking in the back of their mind "It's all meaningless".

Depression does not discriminate. It doesn't care about your age, gender, temperament, occupation, race, previous disability status, or anything else. Look around you for the clinically depressed people. Chances are, unless you're a very skilled psychologist, you can't spot them at a glance. You didn't think it would be the choleric-sanguine overachiever or the easygoing, almost universally-loved sanguine-phlegmatic. The analytical melancholic-phlegmatic never quite content with themselves seemed more likely. Maybe you were almost certain it was the brooding melancholic-choleric. Depression is not exclusive to predominantly melancholic temperaments.

It's nonfiction. Find the one who dyed their red heart to black. It might even be you. It doesn't do you any good to mask it with achievements; you will only fail wanting more and more until you get sucked into a black hole of stress. No one is too talented, too privileged, or too bubbly to suffer from depression. There is no temperament, MBTI type, IQ, or enneagram type immune to depression. No GPA financial standing, sports team position, chair in a musical ensemble, or social status is viable armor against such a thing. Talent or the lack thereof is not an indicator of depression either.

I watched a video about a pianist with no hands. Some people would call him inspirational. I call him an excellent and dedicated musician. Music tends to attract self-critical people, so I wonder if, behind his very well-coordinated limbs, lies a mind telling him that he will never be good enough, that he is just a gimmick made to please the small-minded masses. Part of me wonders if he worries that children like him are pressured by their parents to hone their talents in the hopes of emulating him. Does he ever want to quit out of fear of never meeting his standards?

What about the anxiety-ridden student who drops out of an opportunity for an academic honor saying "It's not for me"? Why is this student dismissed as weak and a quitter while the pianist is almost venerated? That student probably worked up as much courage to say "It's not for me" as, if not more than, the pianist gathered to perform. The brain is a physical member of the body that undergoes physical processes to keep the rest of our body functioning. Why is it that sensible, reasonable people who would never make fun of cancer would not hesitate to poke fun at a mental illness?

Again, did we really choose it right saying we're okay this way? Depression affects overachievers, average achievers, and underachievers alike. It affects a variety of people regardless of where they come from. Even without a mental illness, everyone is fighting a hard battle. It is not anyone's right to invalidate another person's experiences and hardships just because they think their or another person's problems are worse.

Song: Lost One's Weeping (slower piano version)
Artist: Neru (Dub by JubyPhonic)
Language: English dubbed from Japanese
Instrumental: Wing (Link is here)

Abstract Nonsense

I'll be rather blunt. I know I'll get a lot of hate for this, but feel free to hate me. It's not like you think anything else of me, right? It's better that I say this than let it weigh on my chest and kill me.

My grades are increasing. I'm about to celebrate my birthday with my friends...if I even have friends. I am arranging and want to compose something for flute ensemble. I got into my school's fine arts conservatory. I get to go to prom early (Joy Prom). However, none of those things can prevent me from ignoring the pain I hold inside like a rock. Nothing is ever good enough for me, so why should I try to live up to my own quixotic standards? Everything I do becomes a fantasy.

You see that girl over there? Sitting near me in class? The one with a great voice, great grades, and everything she could ever want? That girl is a monochrome puppet and a media monkey. The way she's living seems like plain out fraud to me. Keeping up an image that doesn't match what's inside? What a pitiful industry If she's supposedly so intelligent, why doesn't she notice how I feel? How is she able to memorize the parts of an anatomical heart, but be completely oblivious to what weighs on someone else's emotional heart?

I want to die. There's no fun anymore. I'm tired of it all. However, I don't have the guts or the means to follow through on my desire like all my other imagined futures. I've even drafted a suicide note for the Internet. You can go ahead and accuse me of seeking attention. I won't care. Go ahead and tell me it's "just a phase". It's not like I'm worth anyone's time anyway. People have come and gone out of my life like wisps of wind, apparitions, wraiths. I feel a vague wisp of a connection only to later disappoint myself with their build-a-friend factory lifestyle. But it's better than nothing, right?

But all I want to do is let out and cry. I have no one to bleed my pain onto. If I can follow my passion and do well in school at the same time, why do I feel so lonely?  Why do I feel like crying? Why do I feel like dying? It's a totally irrational desire considering my current circumstances. It doesn't make sense. I know other people feel this way, then why do I feel so isolated? I sound so pathetic as I type this. It's all just a bunch of abstract nonsense.

Song: Abstract Nonsense

Artist: Kagamine Rin (Dubbed by Shellah)

Language: English Dubbed from Japanese