BEING SHY

I read an essay by Dave Barry in the Wall Street Journal taken from his new book, LESSONS FROM LUCY: THE SIMPLE JOYS OF AN OLD, HAPPY DOG where he talks about being shy.  He says he wants to model himself after his dog Lucy.  Needless to say, Lucy is not shy.

I’ve always related to Dave Barry and love his columns and books.  But it’s not just that. We’re almost the same age.  We have a friend in common, and he’s funny and perceptive about some of the same things I think about.  This time was no different.

I believe most people aren’t shy based on my perception that almost everyone can walk into a room filled with strangers and find someone to talk to.  They can also go to restaurants by themselves and enjoy dinner.  From my observation, even if someone was once shy, by the time they’re my age, they’ve gotten over it. 

I, on the other hand, and from the sounds of it, Dave Barry, have hung on to our shyness in spite of appearances to the contrary. Dave Barry is a public figure so I know he’s friends with Stephen King and is part of a band that, besides King, includes Maxine Hong Kingston.  That’s not how most of us see a shy person behaving.  I will admit that I too can sometimes fake it and usually don’t wear my shyness on my sleeve.  But there are certain things I’ve never overcome.

It seems it’s then, when it’s most inconvenient, that my shyness shows up.  It happens at writers’ conferences where I don’t talk to anyone unless they talk to me first. I sit alone instead at the back of the room taking notes or studying my phone.  It also happens at yoga classes in the city where I sit on my mat and stretch while the people around me chatter, not because I want to stretch but because I’m not good at initiating conversations.  It’s also true if I’m forced to eat dinner by myself in a restaurant—except in Europe where I have managed to overcome the fear because the payoff is so great.

Dave Barry lists his awkward phobias, slightly different but similar enough to mine to convince me that we’re in the same boat.  He concludes his essay with a plan to be more like his dog Lucy who greets the world with a smile and an expectation that everyone will like her.  After reading Barry’s piece I tried to make the same vow, but must confess that change doesn’t come easily.  

The one time I did I was surprised.  It happened when I reached out to my yoga teacher to extend my condolences upon his mother’s recent passing.  It was then I discovered in his reaction and our subsequent awkward hug, that he too is shy.

Perhaps my take away is that there are more shy people out there than I thought. I’m hoping this insight empowers me to try to reach out to others more often.  It’s a day at a time process and doesn’t come easily, but I have to believe that life would be fuller and easier if I did, at least at writers’ conferences.