Feelings of inadequacy is another trait for those of us who have AvPD. As I’ve mentioned before, I can’t speak for everyone with AvPD, but personally I feel so inadequate that I prefer to live life in a sort of Groundhog Day where I’m not called upon to do anything new. But then that mundane day-to-day non-activity can drive me up the wall at the same time. I’m safe but I’m in a never ending loop of boredom and brain fog.
I haven’t exactly set the world on fire because I’m the queen of playing it safe. If it looks too complicated, I’d rather not bother, and as a result, my feelings of inadequacy have grown to epic proportions. I’ve basically mastered the art of avoiding anything and everything that might challenge me.
Examples Of My Feelings Of Inadequacy
I remember one time years ago I was in an online group and the boss asked a few of us to help with something online. My mind became a blur and I started to feel the panic rising in me. When this happens, I have to march around the house swinging my arms like a lunatic, just to keep it down. On this occassion I actually spotted something that the supervisor missed but I really do put that down to pot luck. I left school at 15 years old and I’m just not that bright. :(.
If I buy something online and it surprises me by being sent out flat packed, I panic because I don’t think I’m clever enough to follow the instructions. And if I do manage to do it, it will usually take me twice as long as the average person because I’m trying to keep the panic down and focus on what I’m meant to be doing.
It’s actually the initial fear of seeing the leaflet and the parts that get to me so much because I am immediately panicked at my lack of capability to do the task. The words are a blur because I’m quickly scanning the paper trying to see how complicated the instructions are.
When I actually knuckle down, I can usually manage it – but with some angst. That angst does get better once I have started and see that I might just be capable of getting the job done.
I remember when I moved into my new house a couple of years ago looking at my new internet equipment. I ended up calling my service provider in tears saying that I wanted them to come out and do it for me because I didn’t know how to do it myself. This isn’t just Spoilt Brat Syndrome; it’s a deep feeling of being convinced that I’m useless and incapable of doing the most basic of things.
Again, I did manage to wire up my TV and internet – and I expect that most of us can do these things if it wasn’t for our feelings of inadequacy getting in the way.
These feelings of inadequacy obviously also affect our relationships. When someone is talking at me (which they usually do once they quickly realise that I’m not a confident talker), I’m not even listening to them because I’m wondering how I can add to the conversation like a normal regular person. I decide that I can’t and so I just smile and nod like some sort of weird broken wind up doll.
The truth is, I don’t even know if I’d actually enjoy conversation with people I felt comfortable with. I’m just in a continuous battle to get the best reaction from whoever is in my space so that I can feel accepted, validated and ideally, adored.
People Pleasing Tendencies
And of course, the problem is magnified by my people pleasing tendencies. I want to do a good job. For me, as I’m always looking for very positive feedback to validate myself, whatever I do must be impressive – and that’s a pressure which is going to make any situation a whole lot worse.
I will offer to build someone a website even if I’ve only met them once. I did this once for a neighbour who had her own Reiki business. Because she didn’t have digital copies of her leaflets, I spent hours typing them out for her. I spent around twenty hours doing this and it was worth it at the time because I got my all important positive feedback even though I did feel a little bit used as I think most of us would.
I try not to be so generous now but back before my self imposed isolation, when I was out with friends, I would always be the first and last person to buy a round of drinks. Looking back, I can see those people deliberately walking slowly behind me as I approached the bar. But my generosity made me popular and even though I knew why underneath, it just made me feel that little bit better. I felt people were more inclined to talk to me if I was buying them their drinks.
I was renting a beautiful detached house one time when I lost my job. I claimed benefits for a couple of months and then my elderly landlord passed away and her children wanted to sell the house. I contacted my local council to try and get on the housing list and they told me to force my landlord to evict me. I hadn’t even met her but I couldn’t take the thought that she would hate me if I did that, so I ended up living in a disused office for three months. It was the worst time of my life but rather that than have anyone thinking badly of me.
I will keep my front garden looking really nice so that people walking by might think highly of me. (The back garden is a mess but nobody sees that so I don’t care.)
My feelings of inadequacy don’t affect all areas of my life of course, otherwise I’d never be able to dress or cook for myself. But we have been doing those things for years and decades – long before our AvPD kicked in. Maybe if I had learnt DIY and other things before I started to feel so insecure about myself, I’d be confident in those areas too.
Weirdly, I’m also pretty good in a community crisis. For example, if there was a flood on my street, I’d be rushing around helping out where I could and actually, attempting to take some sort of a lead. I think this is because small talk is off the menu given the situation and the pressure is off. I kind of like a bit of a drama – probably for those reasons.
But in the main, I do feel incapable of doing things. Driving to new places on unfamiliar roads, for instance and especially in social settings.
Most people have feelings of inadequacy but for those of us with the dreaded AvPD, it’s no normal feeling. It’s deep and it’s constant – enough to make us hide away and detach ourselves from life.