Anxious Asshole Syndrome (AAS)

I get the feeling that most people think that I am an asshole. I’m not an asshole, though. I’m just shy. And terrified of fucking up and of putting people out and of owing people things and of being noticed and of having to perform due to said notice. I live my life running from the spotlight, only going to places that the light can’t reach so that then I can be sure. I can breathe easily.

I may come off as an asshole if I pass you in the hallway and I don’t say “Hi,” but this is because I am scared of you and I don’t want to bother you. I know that it is a stretch and a bit absurd to think that saying “Hi” is bothersome but my mind is so stretchy that of course it is. Of course you were lost in thought or thinking about something very important or just trying to get home (at 10am?) and my “Hi” was the last straw. And now you are going to report said “Hi” to human resources and I will lose this job which I need not only for the money involved but also because it is how I define myself because I have yet to figure out any other ways I might go about achieving self definition. And now everyone is disappointed in me and my life is done and I’ll never amount to anything.

Not that I ever actually expected to amount to anything because like I said I don’t think highly of myself at all because like I said I am not an asshole.

I think a lot about David Foster Wallace’s commencement address entitled “This Is Water.” He opens it with two fish swimming along and they are passed by an older fish who says “Morning, boys. How’s the water?” And the two fish keep swimming until one turns to the other one and says “What the hell is water?” I know that DFW meant this as an example of how life can just pass us by if wed don’t take time to pay attention to the little things around us. But I see it another way. My anxiety, in all it’s terrified glory, is the water. I have grown so accustomed to it that I don’t notice it. It’s been with me for as long as I can remember and it shapes my every action from behind the scenes so that I know that I will have more fun if I make plans on the weekends but I still don’t make plans on the weekend. I know that I will have more fun if I stay at the party but I still make up an excuse to leave.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. I need to go water my plants.” (My plants are dead.)

One more story: I had a friend sleep on my couch for a month. It doesn’t matter why. What does matter was that when he was around my girlfriend he was a dick. This was all a joke, he said, and he was pretty sure she understood, but at a certain point I had to stop him and tell him that if you pretend to be a dick long enough, you just kind of are one. Not pretending.

I’m not a dick, but I am an asshole - just mostly to myself.