If you’ve been reading my junk, you’ve probably seen me mention my diagnosis of avoidant personality disorder (AvPD), and you may perhaps be wondering what this is. I’m not here to define the condition, because you have Google and can learn for yourself in a few seconds if you want to. I am just here to elaborate a bit on what this condition is in my life and how it affects me, as everyone is slightly different and it doesn’t look exactly the same in every individual case.

It’s also possible that if you’re reading this, you might be wondering if you have AvPD (a lot of us are too afraid to be proactive about going out and getting professional help, so we tend to hide out and do research and self-diagnose online). So maybe seeing how it looks in a diagnosed person’s life would be helpful for you. I don’t represent everyone, just myself, but, who knows: maybe some other people out there can relate to some of these bits and pieces.

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One of my Mom’s favorite anecdotes about my early childhood is the time when she came to pick me up from preschool one day – I must have been three or so – and found that, while all the other kids were gathered in the center of the room, playing communally, I was off on my own, log rolling in a wide circle around them in a solitary orbit.

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I knew something was wrong with me as early as kindergarten. I felt different from the other kids, which I simultaneously liked and hated about myself: I made being weird and different my whole identity, and took pride in liking things that were different and unexpected, and felt threatened if someone else liked the same thing; but, at the same time, I was fascinated by “normal” people, and desperately craved an existence like theirs. I don’t know where this came from, at such a young age. At home I knew I was unconditionally loved, and felt safe there. A lot of people will try to tell you that AvPD is always a result of childhood trauma, neglect, or abuse, but personally I beg to differ. I think I was just genetically predisposed, and public school sealed the deal.

Public school sucked, and entering kindergarten was what you might call “traumatic” for me – I was that kid whose parent had to sit in the classroom with them for like an hour after drop-off, because I was so upset. In this hostile environment, I quickly developed several anxieties and phobias, including fear of vomiting and/or choking, which led to me going on a hunger strike and needing to be sent to the guidance counselor daily to play with these fuzzy purple and orange puppets. Stuff like that.

Sometime by second grade I had developed a fear of people knowing that I experienced emotions, and learned to mostly repress them 😀. I remember being in the classroom one day frustrated/angry/sad because some boy had been picking on me, and forcing myself not to cry/hiding myself because how lame and embarrassing was that. From roughly that point on, I was always weirdly fascinated by people who could cry and express sadness around others, and, even more strangely, receive comfort from others when they were sad. How did that even work!? Not sure where this issue came from, either. Maybe I’d figured out that crying was futile, because all that bawling at the start of the kindergarten day had not prevented the scary thing (i.e. being left at school) from happening? Idk. In any case, to cope with this, I eventually learned the art of irony and hiding behind it – always talking with a hint of dry humor or sarcasm or playful self-deprecation (as you may have noticed, lol). Emotional repression is another hallmark of AvPD.

But I got through elementary, and had some friends: I would occasionally get adopted by an extrovert, whose talking skills carried the weight of the friendship and alleviated the social pressure. Middle school was harder, the scene more merciless and high-pressure, though I still had a couple of close friends who got me through. It was around this time that I created my own four “imaginary friends” who kept me company, who helped me get through the days, and whom you may be familiar with if you read this blog. Apparently it’s not uncommon for folks with AvPD to have such “imaginary friends.” I didn’t realize that until much later.

High school was when it got really bad. At some point in early freshman year, I lost my ability to relax and “be myself” even around my longtime trusted friends. It was very unsettling. Like I’d grown this thick shell around my brain and I could no longer get through it and no one could get in. I had become very boring, very awkward; I had nothing to say to anyone. Sharing had become impossible. Whenever I was around my old friends, I was constantly apologizing for being so boring, and hanging out stopped being fun and relaxing – my self-consciousness made it mentally exhausting. My old friends all quickly found new friend groups, groups that I didn’t fit in with. Strangers.

A boy that I was madly in love with tried to get to know me, but I was such a poor conversationalist, so dull and stiff and painfully awkward, that he gave up on me after a couple weeks. I guess he was waiting to see if I’d thaw out or something. Behind my back, he asked one of my friends, “Is she always like that?” I don’t blame him, and he was always very kind to my face, and I think it was a genuine question – but I never fully recovered from that blow, lol. I’m sure anyone with AvPD can relate.

It was around this time that my ED first got bad and I became very very thin, enough to elicit concerned comments from teachers. EDs and addiction are also very common in folks with AvPD.

And speaking of addiction, it was also around this time that I discovered the temporary cure for AvPD: alcohol! But the cure only made it worse over the years.

I was told that College would make me feel better. That I would meet like-minded people there, and finally not feel like such a misfit. Well, I did go to college, because it was what was expected of me, and did the minimum required to make my professors happy with me; but I avoided any and all opportunities to make connections, network, or do things that might aid a future career.

You may be wondering: “But Mith, how did you go to college at all, if you’re truly that avoidant? How did you have a job? Aren’t folks with AvPD all shut-ins who don’t leave their house?”

Not all folks with AvPD are complete recluses, no. Some of us sure are, but, the condition manifests in different ways. In my case, the fear of others’ disapproval, of breaking the rules, of disappointing people, of getting in trouble, was motivation enough to force myself to do things and go places that I was not equipped to handle.

Also, I drank a lot. That got me through the days for sure. I didn’t plan or save for the future – it seemed pointless. I just wanted to get through each day and do what was required of me and get relief. Drinking also allowed me to have a social life, although, when your social life is fueled by booze rather than sincerity, it sets you up for a lot of bad situations. Despite the unbearable side-effects, I would never have quit drinking if not for my husband’s ultimatum.

“But wait, Mith, you have a husband? No way are you really AvPD. A real avoidant could never be married. How did you even manage to date, with that kind of social anxiety?!” This is one that I get a lot, most often on the AvPD subreddit (where I don’t go anymore because, like most of reddit, it’s an extremely toxic and negative environment) — the “experts” there will try to invalidate you and tell you that you can’t really have this disorder if you’ve ever had a romantic relationship, regardless of whether you’ve been diagnosed by professionals or not (lolol) — so, allow me to delve into this a bit.

How did I date? First of all, you overestimate me, lol “dating” is a pretty strong word to describe my series of unfortunate romantic encounters.

Second of all, booze. With the exception of my first couple of school-age boyfriends back in eighth-ninth grade, both of whom just kind of adopted me in extrovert fashion, I would never have dated anyone without alcohol. I also managed to be somewhat conventionally “pretty” in my younger days, as any girl who’s young and skinny can be if she wants to – so, usually, guys would be lured in by the appearance, only to find that it was just a mirage and there was actually nothing worthwhile there.

And the few who, for whatever reason, did not run screaming, I inevitably ghosted within a few months. I very much wanted love in theory, but in reality it was too difficult. But so anyway, booze + appearance is pretty much how I managed to meet guys, and by “meet” I mean “allowed myself to be approached by.” I never once approached anyone in my life, whether for friendship or romance.

“But you managed to find a husband? And have children?! I don’t buy that you really have AvPD.”

Firstly, plenty of people with AvPD get married and have kids. Different things are hard for different people. But still, sometimes I hear about other AvPD folks doing stuff that makes me go “no way, how can you do that?! Are you sure you’re avoidant?” so, I get it.

Secondly, don’t presume that AvPD does not present big challenges when it comes to being married and parenting. This is, in fact, the daily challenge that I daresay God has laid out for me.

Thirdly, the whole reason I was able to get and stay married is because my husband is not your average guy. He is cut from a different cloth, or perhaps just weathered enough storms in his life to not give a shit, or something. He’s also famously gifted at getting difficult/awkward/shy/troubled people to thaw out and warm up, when no one else can.

I met him in my typical fashion: got tipsy and made-up and allowed him to ask me out, and then, in typical fashion, a few months later tried to ghost him – aggressively ghosted him, in fact, being much more direct than I’d ever been before – but he was, like, immune to my avoidant behavior, somehow. Over a period of three years, his refusal to be deterred by my defense mechanisms showed me that, in addition to being a really cool and smart and interesting person, he was also the only person I’d ever met that I could see myself living with long-term. With him, I might be safe.

To be in a relationship with an AvPD person, you have to be tough as nails and able to put up with a lot of shit. Suffice it to say that my husband has the patience of Job. I got really lucky finding him, and I wish everyone with AvPD who longs to find love could meet someone like him.

And as I was saying, I could never have quit drinking without him. Getting sober with AvPD is a bitch, because the recovery process requires relating to/identifying with other people, seeing yourself as like them – which I am still pretty incapable of doing. But, it can be done by yourself if you’re willing to just be really uncomfortable and find other ways to get through the day. Religion helps, too.

“But so how are you a Catholic Christian and AvPD?! Aren’t those two kind of contradictory?”

Well, obviously not, because here I am, lol. And I’m not the only one either. Is going to Mass hard? Absolutely. Do I get physically ill before Confession every time? You bet. Do I fit in with my fellow Catholics? Heck no. Am I constantly worried that everyone in church hates me and that I’m doing everything wrong? A hundred percent!

But Catholicism is really the only answer to everything. It is the only bottomless thing, the only thing that satisfies a bottomless emptiness: the only true reason to persist in the face of a condition as miserable as AvPD. God made us this way (or allowed us to develop this condition, however you believe it happens) for some reason, and, despite what we believe about ourselves, we belong in this world just as much as anyone else, and we have a purpose.

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So what does life with AvPD look like for me today, as a “high-functioning” avoidant?

Because of the AvPD, I never had a career. College tried to prepare me, but, true to form, I avoided. It’s pretty sad to me, because I grew up being told how “smart” I was and that I would have a great career one day, and if I hadn’t been so cowardly, there are a lot of opportunities I could have gone for. A professor told me I would make a great professor; no, too scary. As a child, I wanted to be an interior designer; but as I grew up I realized that, no, that career was way too people-y. In high school, I loved chemistry, but the other chem students were too scary, so I didn’t want to get involved. And so on.

Did I actually want a career, though? It’s hard to tell. I genuinely don’t know if those are things I would have liked to do but was too afraid to, or if it’s really just not me. I’ve been like this for so long that, much of the time, it’s hard to tell what is “the real me,” if there even is one, and what is “the disorder.” They’re basically the same thing, I guess. Despite the fact that we AvPD folks spend so much time in our own heads, there’s often this cluelessness about who or what we actually are, this fundamental flimsiness and lack of conviction.

In any case, I chose to play it safe, and thus ended up getting a job in the retail world, to survive.

One thing I know for sure that I actually did want, but AvPD has prevented me from going for: I always wanted to be a published novelist, and assumed I would be one day, but in reality, the world of publishing — all that self-promotion, subjecting yourself to criticism and judgment — was, you guessed it: too scary.

Which is all fine, in the end. It all worked out. My most important dream came true, which was getting married and having kids, and I’ll take that over any career anyway. As a homeschooling stay-at-home mom with a supportive husband, I’m fortunate that I don’t have to go to work anymore, because working with the public was nothing short of torture. So we mostly keep to ourselves. I do force myself to go to regular social events and groups for the kids, for their sake. Because being a good parent is my mission in life, and I take it super seriously. But I don’t have irl friends. My friends are a couple of trustworthy people I talk to online, and that for me scratches the social itch just fine, and meets all my needs when it comes to friendship. That, and writing stories. I avoid things like eye contact, adult social gatherings, getting to know anyone too well, and, well, really any situation that exacerbates my AvPD symptoms. I’ve created a manageable routine with just enough challenge, but no longer expect myself to change, and am done trying to “get over it” because it’s not that simple. This is not just social anxiety. As it is, I’m happy with my little life, and I’d say that, thanks be to God, I’m doing quite well for someone with this condition.

But don’t let someone’s apparent success or productivity mislead you. This has been, and continues to be, the defining struggle of my life, the force responsible for my entire personality, the thread running through this whole story, the enemy that I keep bumping up against and will never really defeat. It’s just been a matter of learning to live and cope with it, and getting lucky.

And no, therapy and medication don’t help 😀. I cannot tell you how many different therapists I’ve been to over the years, lol all of them nice people but I can’t say I’ve ever actually been helped by any of them. Some people have luck with meds, but I am not one of those people – not until they invent a medication that changes your entire personality and makes you into a different person, lol. That’s the thing about personality disorders. They’re part of the hardware, not the software, so you can’t just get rid of them. Yay!

I have not intended this to be some kind of pity-party. I simply set out to explain how this disorder has affected my life, i.e. negatively (they’re personality “disorders” because they are disordered, i.e. bad and unpleasant, that’s just facts), to clarify what it is for those who might be curious, and possibly help some reader out there feel less alone. But it is not the case that my life has been all misery and gloom. I’ve had a lot of happy moments and good experiences and pleasant interactions with other humans, too. And despite being a melancholic personality type, i.e. inclined to negativity and despondency, I’m actually a fundamentally happy person these days. So despite what the subreddit would have you believe, this diagnosis is not a death sentence.