#16: Overcoming social anxiety with hedonism
Over many visits to my family’s house this year, I'd look over at my cousins and see just their eyes. Especially when they left the house, the rest of their faces would be hidden behind masks. These weren’t leftover pandemic precautions. They were wearing masks because it helped them feel invisible.
"It's easier this way," my twenty-something cousin told me when I asked about it. His voice was muffled behind his N95. "I don't have to worry about how I look. I would rather not be perceived."
When did not being perceived become a goal? It’s like how younger people prefer corded headphones to wireless ones because it conspicuously signals to the world they don’t want to be approached. Like that, face masks are a shield against social anxiety.
While it’s easy for us to wring our hands about the next generation’s social inhibition, there was a time when I wanted to hide too. The thought of being really seen used to make me nervous. As an event planner and community builder, addressing people’s social anxiety is built into the way I host my events, and it’s not just younger people who have a hard time striking up a conversation with strangers. Everyone’s a little scared of each other these days. As I watch my cousins and other young people navigate the world from behind their masks, I keep thinking about the paradox that many people crave authentic, close ties, while also having an equally intense fear of genuine connection.
Anxiety is a sneaky demon. It whispers lies in your ear: "You're not good enough. Everyone's judging you. It's safer in your cocoon." Many people believe this demon. I know I did. But then I embraced something that changed everything: hedonism.
Not the reckless kind that places the pursuit of pleasure over responsibilities, but the ancient Greek philosophy that says pleasure is the highest good. Hear me out…
There was an ancient Greek philosopher named Aristippus who believed that pursuing ethical, sustainable pleasure should be our main goal in life. He felt that disregarding certain social conventions brought him a kind of freedom, and I think we can take this lesson into social situations where we’re feeling ill at ease. The skeptics among you might be thinking how naive it is of me to suggest that all you have to do to get over your nervousness around people is to pursue pleasure. But it really worked for me.
Instead of focusing on all the ways social interactions can go wrong, we should focus on the potential for intrigue and joy. What if we approached each conversation, each outing, each new experience with the question: "How can I find pleasure in this moment?" I realize it sounds overly simplistic, and like I said, naïve. I also want to note this hedonistic approach doesn't mean ignoring genuine mental health concerns or pressuring ourselves or others to be constantly outgoing. It’s more about shifting our focus from fear to potential pleasure when the stakes are low and can call for it, while always respecting our own and others' boundaries. For anyone who needs to hear it, it can be revelatory.
This is a principle I apply to my non-monogamous relationships, and it's the foundation of the success I've found with my anchor partner. We both fully understand and support each other's desire for the pursuit of pleasure. We want to experience love, lust, and that spark with different people, many people. People can be so wonderful, and at least to us, they make our lives feel incredibly rich, opening up new worlds we might not have known otherwise.
So why would we ever want to keep each other from those intimate connections? We see each new partner as an opportunity for growth, for joy, for expanding our understanding of love and life. It's not always easy, but the shared commitment to each other's happiness and growth makes it worthwhile.
I remember the first time I put this into practice. My partner had just been on a date, and I was feeling that familiar knot of jealousy in my chest. But after assessing how secure and unchanged my core relationship was with my partner, I realized I was letting ego consume me. He was being so truthful, thoughtful, and loving, and actually I was also genuinely happy that he had bonded with someone so interesting, sweet, and beautiful. I remember how he held my hand and reassured me of our connection and I was comforted in knowing that I was loved, even if I wasn't the only person on his mind. From experience, I knew that the excitement he experienced in other relationships actually helped him bring his full loving self to our relationship, and how much stronger it made us to have all these ties with other romantic partners.
It wasn't easy. Jealousy is a stubborn monster. But focusing on pleasure gave me a lifeline, a way to climb out of the pit instead of wallowing in it.
I started applying this thinking to other areas of my life too. Like when I'd scroll through social media or talk with friends who had fancy apartments or were close with their siblings. There was a time when I would drown in a sea of gloom from comparing myself to them. But the new, pleasure-seeking me? It wasn’t hard to see all the joy in my own life. I thought about how well my cozy apartment has served me and how much my chosen family is invested in the minutiae of my highs and lows.
You can apply this hedonism hack to all kinds of dating scenarios. My partner and I will date other couples together, and whenever a first date is going downhill and my anxiety is screaming “what a waste of time. These people are completely off the wall.” I try to focus on the pleasure of the moment. I think about the hilarious stories we can tell about this later, or how I wouldn’t have ever crossed paths with these people with such different life experiences were it not for us all being freaky hedonists. I’m usually very tickled by these thoughts and will stop wallowing about how shitty the conversation is.
Or when I'm navigating the complex web of multiple relationships. Instead of stressing about scheduling and "fairness," I try to find happiness in the unique dynamic I have with each partner. The shared love of cooking I have with one. The mutual interest in newsletters I have with another. The sexual chemistry I have with a third.
I've even found pleasure in the moments of discomfort. Like when I'm feeling jealous and possessive, I also know often it means I'm growing, pushing my boundaries, learning more about myself and what I want. There’s an opportunity for more clarity and closeness when I can explicitly voice all my thoughts and then work through them. It’s so liberating to be able to say, "Hey, I'm feeling so insecure about how your new lover loves video games AND has a nice body" or even "I have a crush on someone new," without fear of judgment or rejection from my partner.
Of course, it's not all sunshine and orgasms. Ethical non-monogamy can be messy, complicated, and sometimes super exhausting. But that's where the "ethical" part of ethical hedonism comes in. It's about seeking pleasure in a way that's sustainable and considerate of others.
As I write this, I wonder who this topic will land with. I just really want to convey I've never felt more alive, more connected, or more authentically myself than when I'm navigating the waters of ethical non-monogamy with hedonism as my compass.
Maybe that’s what we all really want at the end of the day. Not just pleasure for pleasure's sake, but the pure joy that comes from living life fully, openly, and authentically.
The next time anxiety tries to slap a mask on you in a low stakes situation- whether it's in your love life, your social life, or anywhere else - try asking yourself: "What is actually the point of stewing in negativity? Can I have fun in this moment instead?"
These might seem like small things, but they add up to a life rich in ethical pleasures. The more I focus on these pleasures, the less power my anxiety has over me.
Okay I think the points here are obvious to some, but younger me would have really needed to hear this, and I hope this reaches anyone else who does. Thanks for reading🖤