I had a conversation the other day that made me doubt my entire self-perception for the entirety of my life.

The social club that I belong to is having a holiday gathering in December and I was asked if I was going to the event. I said that, no, I was not. The person asked if I was going to be away, on the assumption that the only reason for not attending would be because I was going out of town. I said no, I was just not good at going to events with large crowds as I have social anxiety. She recoiled a little and said, aghast, “But you joined a social club!”

She isn’t wrong. It seems completely contradictory, but in my defense I didn’t always suffer from social anxiety. For most of my life I have navigated all sorts of events with equanimity. A couple of years or so ago, though, a change was made in my medications when an antidepressant I have been taking in various forms since the 1980s was removed from my daily regimen.

I was glad to stop taking it as I didn’t think I needed it any more. In fact, I had previously asked to have the dosage reduced and ultimately to be taken off it. One doctor asked “Do you feel normal when you are on it?” and when I said “Yes,” she renewed the prescription. That wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for.

When a nurse practitioner I met through the online healthcare app recommended that I gradually reduce  the medication and then cease it altogether, I happily agreed. I went through a few months of reluctance in going to any social events, but over time those feelings have subsided. I still second-guess myself in going out of the house and I still talk myself out of events quite often, but overall things are slowly getting back on track.

I continue to enjoy individual friendships and small-group gatherings, but large groups where I know few people and remember even fewer names fill me with dread.

Now I realize that I am not very good at making friends. I have moved often and usually made friends with my neighbours and co-workers, but now that I am retired, making friends is a lot more difficult. The social club I belong to has a lot of activities, but the registrations for events fill up very quickly with established members. I am engaged as a newsletter editor, but am valued primarily as a role-filler. I always thought I had more to offer as a companion, but now I think I might have been wrong about that.

There have been periods in my life when I have had to sacrifice a social life in order to attend to the needs of my family, and there have been other periods when being social meant being in a couple and joining other couples. Now, as a single retiree, interacting with other people has taken on a whole different and unfamiliar dimension.

I still think of myself as being open to relationships with people of a variety of origins and backgrounds. Learning about other people’s life experiences is fascinating and a great way for form friendship bonds. Unfortunately, I am finding those opportunities to be rare. Instead, I am learning to love my life of secure solitude with hobbies, activities, and neighbourhood walks.

This evening it occurred to me that I could sit at one of the local waterfront benches and offer to provide free conversations. I bet I’m not alone in just wanting someone to shoot the breeze with and solve the world’s problems. Hmm. There may be a new role and a cardboard sign in my future.