Smile, Nod, Panic, Repeat!

Somewhere between now or never

On Thursday, I went to this old-school soirée here in Kigali. We had fun — drinks, music, people, all the good chaotic things. At some point, my husband and I went to say hi to our friends at another table.

I greeted everyone one by one like a responsible adult. Then I turned around to look for my husband… and instantly saw him deep in conversation. And suddenly my brain went: “RUN.”

And I did. Fast. Back to our table, like I was escaping a kidnapping attempt.

Meanwhile, my husband, the human version of a social butterfly, stayed there, cracking jokes and enjoying a full group debate. Me? I was already back at our table, seated, pretending I wasn’t dying inside…and honestly wondering how he does it. Like, how is he not scared? Not panicking? Not overthinking? My God!

One of the guys looked at me and said, “You don’t like socializing, do you?”

And I was like, “I do… but it scares the hell out of me.”

I wasn’t joking. I love people. I love conversations. I love connection. But at the same time, something in me panics. I have this urge to escape, like my brain believes one wrong social move will end the whole world.

And when I said that, it triggered a memory marathon — every situation where I’ve been too much, or too little. Because with me, there’s no in-between. Either my social energy is too high, and I talk nonstop like someone paid me per syllable, or it’s too low, and I can barely form a sentence.

Both extremes come with their own mental torture.

When my energy is too high, I cringe for two weeks straight. I replay every sentence, every laugh, every unnecessary joke. “Why did I say that?” “Why was I so loud?” “Who told me to act like that??”

When my energy is too low, I feel guilty for not being warm enough, friendly enough, talkative enough. “Did they think I was rude?” “Do they think I don’t care?” “Did I seem disinterested?”

It’s exhausting. Not just the anxiety itself, but the two-week aftercare program of judgment, guilt, and internal bullying.

And the saddest part? Sometimes it kills my ideas.

I’ll have something interesting to say — smart, funny, or meaningful — but I keep it in my head. The fear of judgment whispers: “They’ll misunderstand you.” “They’ll think it’s stupid.” “They’ll think YOU ARE weird.”

So I keep quiet. And the idea dies like an unsubmitted assignment.

I know I’m not the only one who does this. The number of brilliant ideas, jokes, stories, opinions, and truths that never make it past our mouths… simply because anxiety is sitting in the system like a strict editor with a red pen.

Growing up, I was extremely social — sports girl, outside girl, playing everything from football to volleyball to mabigibigi. I don’t know when the shift happened. Maybe high school contributed — girls walking around lip-glossed, elegant, quiet, soft. Meanwhile, I was a certified garçon manqué, trying to fit into that “cute girl code” and failing.

Trying too hard to fit in is probably where my anxiety learned to thrive.

Fast forward to adulthood: Put me in a crowd, and I start shaking like a leaf. Unknown people? I’m in survival mode. I stick to my comfort zone because, honestly, my awkwardness needs a safe space.

And if you want to laugh, I once cried during a TV interview at work because of anxiety. On camera. As the communication officer. Legendary embarrassment.

So what is anxiety really?

For me: It’s the invisible hand on your shoulder telling you, “Don’t speak.” It’s the voice in your head saying, “They’re judging you.” It’s wanting connection, but also wanting to escape the moment it starts. It’s wanting to be around people, but also wanting to hide under a table.

And yes, no matter how much we fight it, it doesn’t fully go away. It gets better sometimes, then returns with new material.

I don’t know if it ever leaves forever…

Some ideas are born already shivering — scared, soft, unsure if the world will understand them. And if you’re like me, you probably keep most of them inside your head, not because they’re not good (they probably are not good)… but because sharing them feels like standing naked in fluorescent lighting.

There is the fear of being judged. The fear of being misunderstood. The fear of someone asking, “Why are you overthinking this?” (As if I haven’t been asking myself that same question since birth. Babe, please.)

But here’s the thing: we still try. We still face the world, even when it terrifies us. We still show up, and still stumble, shaky hands, stubborn hearts, pure chaos.

And to the people who keep telling us, “It’s all in your head. You won’t die if you try”… JOKE’S ON YOU. I will die!!!! At least in my head for a good 30 seconds. So go easy on me, because my mind won’t!

Bisous, bye. 🫶