How to have fun at a party

Dear friend,

You know the old adage about imagining everyone naked when giving a public speech? The idea being that the audience is full of people with the same vulnerable parts and therefore nothing to fear? I have a similar ritual before I attend any social event, particularly ones where I won’t know everyone. Before I walk in, I remind myself that I am about to enter a room full of human beings, each with their own set of problems, insecurities, hopes, and dreams.

Which is why last weekend, before walking into my friend’s baby shower, I sat in my Subaru Forester Sport (lovingly named Sporty Spice) and did just that. Took a centering breath, reminded myself that the party would be full of humans, grabbed the gift I brought (a pink unicorn stuffie) from the passenger seat, and followed the sound of laughter toward my friend’s charming house on the edge of a hill.

Now it might seem glaringly obvious that the party I was about to walk into was attended by people, not goblins or gorillas or robots. It might seem like my pre-party ritual is a bit unnecessary or even extreme. But you have to understand, my friend, that in the past I spent the majority of parties seeing other partygoers not as humans but rather as mirrors of my own fears of inadequacy. Terrified of walking into a social event feeling judged as not good enough, my only fortitude was to see everyone else as a potential threat.

And so for countless birthday parties, engagement parties, work parties, holiday parties, and parties for no occasion at all, I shielded myself with emotional armor. I’d stay in close physical proximity to people I knew, wary of starting conversations with complete unknowns. I’d drink alcohol not for fun but more for self-defense, every tequila soda and Aperol Spritz a protective elixir against the dark arts of social humiliation. When I did find myself in conversation with people outside my social sphere of familiarity, I’d be in my head judging my performance like a sportscaster analyzing the play-by-play.

Now you might be picturing me at these parties with a look of pure horror on my face, but that would be wrong. No, friend, I knew how to mask my anxiety well: behind a slightly disinterested smile, an aura of too cool, and an extremely well put together look.

It’s not that I wasn’t aware of the armor I was wearing, I just assumed there was no other way to get through a party. And I’d managed to have fun from time to time, mostly between the second and fourth cocktail when the anxiety was soothed by a warm buzz and the music replaced the overthinking chatter.

But being on a healing journey changes you. You realize that how you experience the world is shaped foremost by your internal narrative. You begin to look critically at that internal narrative. And you finally start investigating its merit.

One of my most profound social humiliations was when I was 13 (the age where social humiliation is likely most rampant). On the first day of 7th grade, I walked into the linoleum hallway at Parkhill Junior High, only to discover I had officially been labeled the school slut. You see, over the summer, I had kissed a popular girl’s ex-boyfriend, resulting in a series of rumors, misinformation, and innuendo, no doubt fueled by the fact that I was one of the only non-white kids at my school, which made me an easy target. I had become a social pariah. Worst of all, even my best friend turned against me. I went from feeling relatively socially comfortable to being an outcast with no one to sit with at lunch. I was picked on and humiliated. Older girls threatened to beat me up after school. And while I eventually found a new circle of friends who were outcasts in their own right, this experience was a turning point for my social confidence. An entire group of people could just decide you don’t belong, and there is nothing you can do about it.

We all carry stories like these, experiences of social rejection that our nervous systems want to avoid repeating at all costs. And while I have compassion for my inner 13-year-old and the pain she went through, there came a point where I had to recognize this isn’t junior high anymore. My social anxiety manifested as a fear of being judged by others, but the truth was I was judging other people by assuming they weren’t kind and by projecting the immaturity of my junior high bullies on them. How unfair!

This judgment that I mistook for protection was a barrier not only to making new connections and fully enjoying new social experiences, but also to being genuinely kind to others (what I claimed I wanted from other people).

How to have fun at a party? Make a conscious decision to see the humanity in people and recognize that we all have insecurities. We all want to feel like we belong. And a party is first and foremost an opportunity to just be together in all our complexity and imperfections. To celebrate the truly bizarre reality of being human. We are so much more alike than our anxiety wants us to believe.

And if you do encounter a random jerk at a party, which can happen, just remind yourself that person’s experience is shaped by their internal narrative, and being in their head must not feel very good.

Nowadays, I use my pre-party ritual of reminding myself to see the humanity in others, not just for recreational social events but also for work meetings, large family get-togethers, public speaking, and basically any time I might get triggered into assuming people are judging me.

Does this mean I never get social anxiety? Of course not! Those old fears still pop up, but when they do, I have a plan. I remind myself again that the people around me aren’t bullies. I go back into my heartspace where I can sense their humanity.

The cool thing about a baby shower is that there are typically really delicious hors d'oeuvres, and my friend’s was no exception. There was a massive charcuterie spread, all kinds of dips (including pimento cheese dip, which I haven’t had in years), and 3 different kinds of cakes. I found myself returning to the food table whenever I felt a bit socially awkward. But I made a conscious effort to introduce myself to everyone I didn’t know and had some really nice conversations. And the times I found myself with no one to talk to didn’t feel nearly as uncomfortable as those moments have in the past. All in all, I had a really fun time.

All my love,

Bunny ❤︎

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