AS I slowly re-emerge back into society after the numerous lockdowns, I have found myself extremely lacking in social skills. 

I was out last weekend at my mate’s gig and, for the life of me, I could barely hold a conversation with anyone. 

Gone are the days where I could talk for Scotland to anyone and everyone about anything and everything. 

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Gone are the days of my pals saying, “Who put 10 pence in you?” when I just wouldn’t shut up after a few pints. 

I also noticed that a lot of people were the same. We’re all sort of lacking match fitness in terms of socialising. 

“How’ve you been?” I ventured to a pal I hadn’t seen in ages. They said the exact same thing at the same time. 

“You go first,” they said to me. 

“Eh, awrite,” was all I could say back and they were the same. 

We couldn’t get away from each other quick enough. 

It doesn’t help, I suppose, that this was a room filled almost entirely with writers, poets and other notoriously introverted creative types, but normally after a few pints that initial awkwardness disappears and we all have a lovely time. 

This time it was different. We all stood apart, grateful to my mate playing his guitar for giving us something to focus on and to provide us with something to talk about after.  

As a result, I’m treating the rest of this year as a sort of pre-season as I get back up to speed. 

In the new year, I’ll be ready to engage anyone in conversation. 

Until then, I’m going to have to practice talking to other people or write some kind of conversational script that I can refer to when the words won’t come out. 

It’s a hard feeling to explain properly, but it was like my mind went blank when asked 
anything. 

It felt similar to going back to school after the summer holidays and finding it weird and unfamiliar to hold a pencil. 

“No much,” is, of course, the typical Scottish response when you’ve been asked what you’ve been up to. 

We’ve made it through a global pandemic, that’s hardly “no much”. 

I also had a feeling of “I am definitely going to say something daft or weird”. 

It’s something I learned to deal with when I was younger. I was very quiet in school because of my fear of being ridiculed and I’d turn bright red and break out in a cold sweat if I ever had to answer something in class or was asked something while in a 
group. 

When I left school and entered the world of work, I realised I had to get over this fear if I wanted to do well in any sort of career. 

I started to ignore the apprehension as I knew it was all in my head and I decided I wouldn’t let it hold me back any longer. 

 

I pushed myself to make jokes in work with customers and colleagues or speak up when I felt I, or someone else, was being treated unfairly. 

Slowly but surely I became more relaxed in social situations and if someone took the mickey out of me, I’d just laugh it off. 

When I started writing, I found out about the huge spoken-word scene in Glasgow and wanted in on the act. 

I knew it would help me promote my work but would also help me become more confident.

If I could get up on stage and speak to a room full of people I could do anything, I felt.

And, amazingly, it worked. 

I had a wee wobble after my first few times doing it and had a phase where I’d rely on alcohol to calm my nerves and help me relax before performing but I managed to knock that on the head when I realised it wasn’t healthy. 

I soon became a social butterfly, able to strike up a conversation and have a laugh with anybody, as well as perform to any size of crowd with minimal nerves. 

Then lockdown happened. Soon enough, all the old habits, self-doubt and self-loathing began to creep back in. 

It happens to the best of us. I’ve spoken to a few people who I bumped into at the weekend and asked them if they were feeling the same as I was, and they said they were. 

Glasgow Times:

Some of them felt a bit of pressure to get back out and socialise despite not really feeling ready to. I imagine there’s a lot of us feeling this way without really realising it. 

My advice would be to take it slow and only head out when you feel like you’re ready. 

As I said earlier, treat the next few months as a sort of pre-season training regime. 

It’s a mad feeling, heading back out after being locked up for so long, of course you’re going to be a wee bit rusty. A bit of time and the company of your pals will do you the world of good.