My Shyness and How I Deal With It

I hate going to parties. Even getting together last weekend with my husband’s friends, whom I’ve known for decades, I spent most of the evening fighting the urge to bolt out of the room. (Just writing those words makes me want to run I don’t know where since I’m currently sitting at home in my nightgown.)

Anyway, as I stood at the party, trembling with anxiety, I noticed the wife of one of JR’s friends. I don’t know her; they almost never come to the parties. She was sitting by herself, looking sad. I hate seeing anybody being left out, so I sat next to her and engaged her in conversation, which is not as easy as it sounds. I’m never comfortable talking to strangers. But my friend Liz taught me to get the other person talking about themselves. (I like this method because then I don’t have to say anything; I can just nod sagely and say “how fascinating.”)

So I asked the woman about her work. She was something called a “chart nurse." Now floored me for a minute because I know absolutely nothing about chart nurses. But following Liz’s guidelines, I asked the woman to tell me about a typical day. I asked what her greatest challenge was, what she enjoyed the most. From there we moved on to the subject of her children and after that I had no trouble talking to her.

Now I suppose some people are thinking, “And from then on, Poe lost all her shyness and felt great.” Sorry to say, I still wanted to run out of there screaming. But the important thing is--it made things a little better. And who knows—maybe that lonely woman enjoyed the party.


Illustrative Anectdote: One two separate nights a woman dined with Queen Victoria’s Prime Ministers, Disraeli and Gladstone. Later, people asked, “What were they like?”
She said, “When I left the dining room after sitting next to Mr. Gladstone, I thought he was the cleverest man in England. But after sitting next to Mr. Disraeli, I thought I was the cleverest woman in England."

When I grow up, I want to be like Disraeli.