Avoidant Personality Disorder, Social Anxiety, or Just Shy?

Simple shyness? Social Anxiety Disorder? Avoidant Personality Disorder? What’s the difference? Are we just pathologizing normal behavior? Why so many labels?

Well, the labels exist to help professionals differentiate between constructs. That’s what most diagnoses are: categories put together by committee, identifying particular experiences or patterns of behavior, thinking and/or feeling that tend to co-occur. That’s an extreme simplification, but it’s a good jumping-off point for us.

Shyness is normal-people-speak. It’s the way we describe someone, or ourselves, when we are a little reluctant to “blow our own horn” or “put ourselves out there” (whatever THAT means). A little shyness means some mild worry about doing the right thing, not embarrassing ourselves, and wanting to avoid being a nuisance.

Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) is a psychiatric label that covers a level of shyness that interferes with someone’s daily life. That’s the test: whether the person’s regular life is constricted by worry about saying/doing the wrong thing in social settings and a tendency to avoid social gatherings or work or school related activities. It’s anxiety: there are both physical symptoms of fight-or-flight (elevated heart rate, for example, or more perspiration) and psychological symptoms (worrisome ideas about being in the spotlight and doing something “stupid,” for example). People with SAD usually have close relationships and get through daily life pretty well, with bumps along the way when big events or unusual circumstances – public speaking at a work meeting, for example, or large gathering – looms.

Avoidant Personality Disorder (APD) is sometimes confused with SAD. ADP is markedly different, though, because it encompasses a global low self-esteem and fear of being judged and found wanting in just about every way. So, for example, the person with some social anxiety has close friendships but might feel a bit anxious about going to a wedding reception with a lot of people s/he doesn’t know. The avoidant person has few close relationships out of fear of people finding them just not good enough to be friends. The APD person suffers anguish before annual performance reviews, and even gentle constructive criticism is received as devastating evidence of how deficient they are.

The fear is not “just in their head.” Fear is always a full-body experience. When a situation seems to be a threat (for the person who suffers with APD) to be judged and found wanting, the body responds before the logical, higher brain has even identified what is happening. So the amygdala has sounded the general alarm – the endocrine system flies into action, and as a result logical assessment is curtailed. Telling someone whose heart is pounding, whose blood is full of adrenaline and a massive dose of glycogen and is primed to run away that they are just overreacting is not helpful. Learning how to manage this, how to recover from the old messages of being “less than” and “not good enough,” is a process, not an instant fix. It can be healed.

There’s much more to these labels and to the details of treatment, of course, but perhaps the useful take-away today is: help is available. A lot of people will find that solid self-help approaches based in cognitive-behavioral therapy research (David Burns, MD’s books are excellent examples of these) quite sufficient for mild to moderate social anxiety. When that anxiety is all-pervasive, and there are few relationships out of fear of being found wanting, and loneliness and fear of being judged rule one’s life, the additional support of a counselor might be more helpful than trying to struggle through alone. Ironically, group psychotherapy can be quite effective for these difficulties – but it’s hard to find them.

If you know someone who is struggling, try to help them get help.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Posts are for information and entertainment purposes only and should not be construed to be therapeutic advice. If you are in need of mental health assistance, please contact a licensed professional in your area.

Why are personality disorders so difficult to treat?

Well, there’s a complicated question! This post attempts to present an overview response.

A personality disorder, like just about all mental disorder diagnoses, is made based on a checklist of complaints, symptoms, and observations. However, personality disorders are very different from what we normally think of as emotional problems.

Consider, for example, depression. “Depression” is diagnosed when 2 weeks have passed and certain criteria have been met (and there’s no “pass” given for grief or other traumatic events in the new diagnostic manual, although we’re supposed to note it in the records). Most people know when they’re sad, irritable, unhappy, and hopeless. It feels awful and they want to get that bad feeling off of them. Some people might not think of it as “depression.” They might identify it as a “low time,” or it might be grief, or a normal adjustment to a new phase of life such as marriage, an empty nest, or graduating from college. It might be a normal but very painful response to some new curveball life has thrown at them: an illness, a layoff, retirement, etc.

A personality disorder is different because it is pervasive; like the personality of any person, it is part of everything. Your personality impacts how you interpret everything that happens, the way you react to people and events, the emotions you experience. This goes for healthy people as well as those whose patterns are far enough from the big, wide range of normal to merit a “disorder” status. So, when someone seems to have a personality disorder (say, narcissism), they are not experiencing their diagnosis as a messy, icky experience to be stopped. They are rolling along (over other people) and having their life. Everything comes through a lens that assures them that they are special, entitled to preferential treatment and to have their way, and, well, let’s face it, just better than us. Problems are experienced as due to the outside world and their own role in those problems is not apparent.

From a therapist’s perspective, when someone comes in with depression, even if that’s not what they, or we, might call it, they know they are unhappy and they want very much to feel like themselves again. They are hopeful that a counselor can help them push through this difficult time.

When someone who meets criteria for a personality disorder comes to treatment, it’s usually because of some other issue, such as work or relationship problems. Remember that each of us is walking around, seeing the world through our own eyes and interpreting everything we experience, including our own thoughts and feelings, through our unique mental structure. You build that mental structure from the earliest moments of life. Is the world safe? Are my needs met? Are the grownups who tend to me patient, gentle and kind? Babies are already sorting out information and creating a set of basic assumptions about the world that will become essential aspects of their personality. It’s so deep, it’s hard to not take for granted that our way of making sense of things isn’t necessarily the only, or best, way. So when patterns of problems arise with colleagues, bosses or family, it’s hard to believe that the problem is fundamental to our mental structure; it defies logic and could be very insulting. The person may be suffering terribly, every day. This is definitely the case with some of the personality disorders, such as Borderline Personality Disorder, Avoidant Personality Disorder and Dependent Personality Disorder. Whether these or any of the personality disorder diagnoses, the person did not choose this burden and it isn’t their fault. However, presenting it as an internal problem – to them – can feel like blaming and attacking – which is definitely not the therapist’s intention.

Imagine if something terrible happened to you: a tsunami. Your workplace is destroyed. You lose your house. You lose your stuff. You catch a mosquito-borne illness and suffer long-term ramifications. It’s a series of terrible events and you find yourself traumatized and perpetually anxious. Is that anxiety your fault? Certainly not. Just so, the early life experiences that set people up for the challenges we call personality disorders are not their fault. However, it’s a problem that they can learn to heal, but that can sound like blaming the victim. Thus, if someone meets criteria for a personality disorder, trying to sell them on dealing with the personality disorder is pretty much like saying, “Look, an awful lot about the way you think and respond to things is kind of messed up. But, never fear! Together we can bulldoze your personality and how you think, feel and behave, pour a new slab, and then we’ll rebuilding you from the ground up. You’ll learn new ways of thinking, feeling and behaving.”

Even when it’s dressed up in tactful, compassionate psychological language, that, my friend, is a very hard sell indeed.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Toxic Myths, revisited

A lot of people ask about toxic myths: what does that mean? Why “myths?” (I’d like to say, well, buy the book, and sometimes do).

The toxic myths are examples of lies dressed up as truths. Our culture is seething with them, but in Toxic Mythology, I only addressed a few.

For example, consider the myth that people can compartmentalize their lives. Someone can, within this myth, be an absolute scoundrel in their personal life but supposedly be capable of being completely trustworthy and honorable in their public/vocational role. Conversely, they can (per the myth, at least) be a sociopath in their professional life but be kind, tender and good in private.

So…if you buy this myth, you have to be willing to:

Vote for someone who swears to uphold a particular principle while having a personal and/or professional life littered with betrayals and a habit of acting on expediency, not principle;

Believe your child who promises she didn’t really cheat on that exam or plagiarize on the paper (despite the software evidence) after same child was grounded for “borrowing” money out of your wallet without permission.

Keep on an employee whom you overhear lie to customers because you haven’t caught that employee lying to you.

Convince yourself that your gossipy acquaintance never, ever would talk about YOU behind your back.

Does any of that sound reasonable? Of course not; these are, however, the toxic myth in action. Our culture tells us that it’s perfectly reasonable to believe that compartmentalization of character is possible and (further) that we should be “judgmental.” That’s another myth for another day.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Personal Responsibility and Mental Health

This is another reflection on the Florida Adlerian Society’s annual conference last Friday. One of the primary speakers emphasized the role of personal responsibility in mental health. I can imagine, taken out of context, how brutal that might sound. “Are we now blaming victims and ill people for their woes?” the person exposed to just that sound bite might wonder. “Is that what mental health professionals believe?”

The short answer is no, that’s not what we believe.

Embracing free will and the dignity of each person, however, ineluctably leads one to emphasize the role of personal responsibility in how one deals with what happens in life. This isn’t something new: it is ancient philosophy dressed up in psychotherapy clothes. So, while someone may suffer terrible misfortunes outside of their control, the impetus to decide what to do about it is within them. Seek help, or sink into despair? Reach up to grasp a hand, or reach out for a bottle, or needle, or some other vial of trouble?

Sometimes people do have some personal responsibility for what happens, and indulge in magical thinking in which bad things just randomly happen to them. I recall a person I met many years ago who got into trouble for buying drugs. He complained about the injustice of the level of trouble; he didn’t mean to do it. It just happened. (I’m pretty much quoting here.) I asked, how do you buy drugs by accident? How do you take a peaceful stroll around your neighborhood and accidentally end up lurking behind a shopping center chatting with the type of entrepreneurs who set up shop near dumpsters and concrete walls? Acting like there is no personal responsibility means that there is no effort to make things better. It’s just a lot of bad luck, from his perspective; no reason to change because you can’t change “luck.”

Often, though, human suffering is due to others’ actions. Just the same, an adult has some power to effect change. The responsibility is not for others’ bad actions, but to take some sort of action to help oneself. Sometimes people evade taking responsibility to make change because it will be uncomfortable, or embarrassing, or mean that they have to admit that at some earlier point they were wrong. Breaking off a destructive friendship or leaving a toxic work environment can be very challenging for a host of reasons, and leaving an abusive relationship can be dangerous. Reach out and get help. If the first, or second, or third person you go to for help is clueless – keep looking for the right help.

Typically, people do things that undercut happiness and health in some way and evade responsibility. People have habits that cause insomnia, for example, and complain, as if poor sleep side-tackled them in the hallway due to no fault of their own. We take on extra activities and complain about being too busy. People fail to set limits with their kids and then yell and throw consequences around when their children are irresponsible, disrespectful and unpleasant to be around. People make choices all day, often on auto-pilot, and a great many of us are prone to griping about all sorts of situations that result, as if stuff just happens without cause. Yes, of course, sometimes, stuff does happen…but, if you’re always five minutes late…that’s you. Not the traffic, not the cat, not the dog…it’s you. If your friends are inconsiderate, that’s not your fault, but it is your problem if you keep tolerating it. If you do tolerate it, then take responsibility for it and stop complaining. “Yes, good old Joe is always late but that’s just him; it’s not personal.” You’ve decided to accept it. Stop griping. If you can’t stop griping, you haven’t accepted it. If you can’t accept it, then do something: leave when he’s late. Put your foot down. Tell him off. Lie about what time you’re meeting and get there late yourself (it might work, once). Whatever; if you’re not prepared to do something about it then face that you have decided to let Joe be chronically late without regard for your preferences or schedule because you have decided tolerating it beats the alternatives you’ve identified of annoying Joe or losing his friendship.

Narrowing it down to mental health, whatever a person is suffering, help is available. How one lives is always part of healing. Proper amounts of exercise, sleep and nutrition are part of it, and things for which most people can take some responsibility. Seeking right guidance requires making choices. Unless you belong to a professional mental health association, your friends might not be the best source of professional advice on the specific strategies, to, for example, use mindfulness training, exercise and specific cognitive therapy techniques to rewire your brain and reduce obsessive-compulsive symptoms. You get to choose. That’s not blaming you for your suffering, but it is saying that you have the freedom, responsibility, and capacity to move towards healing.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Well…something’s crazy (but it’s probably not us)

Yesterday I attended the Florida Adlerian Society’s annual conference; it runs for three days but I was only able to commit to one. It was a great day: wonderful speakers, challenging information, and, of course, the warm and friendly Adlerians in attendance.

Adler is one of the great founders of psychotherapy, but often is relegated to a corner with a few remarks about birth order and maybe credit for starting the child guidance movement. He’s much more than that, and if you’re curious, visit www.alfredadler.org.

An interesting point made during yesterday’s talks was the evolution of bereavement in psychiatry over the past few decades. The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders is the American Psychiatric Association’s published list of descriptions of various patterns of symptoms. The intention, back in the early 1980s and DSM-III, was to provide a structure for shared dialogue and research for the identified hypothesized mental disorders. No one was pretending these were all clearly identifiable and diagnosable, discrete brain diseases. In the DSM-III days, bereavement, as a category, covered up to a two year long period. If a grieving person was still sad more often than not, still struggling with aspects of grief and getting back to a (new) normal life, mental health professionals figured, depending on the relationship, two years was a reasonable time frame. Of course, some losses never heal – but people somehow figure out how to go on, just the same. The point is, no sensible person thought it was pathological to still have some regular bouts of tearfulness a year or more after your most beloved person died.

In 1994, the next edition of the DSM came along, DSM-IV. It gave people two months – not two years – to get over it and move on. If not – if the person was still crying, or numb, or having appetite and/or sleep disturbances, or otherwise met the minimum criteria for depression…well, that meant that bereavement was over and the person was now diagnosable with a major mental disorder – depression – which was now sometimes described as a permanent brain disease.

In 2013, the DSM-5 was published (note that the change from Roman numerals to integers was done by the APA – it’s not a typo on my part). The DSM-5 got rid of the bereavement issue entirely: now you get two weeks of being sad more days than not, plus the other possible symptoms, and you’re mentally ill with depression (according to the APA). There is no exception for bereavement, although it ought to be noted on the chart. One rationale provided, about which I’ve written in the past, is that this way people can get their health insurer to cover their grief counseling. Whether this makes it worthwhile to pathologize normal grief, I leave each reader to consider.

Are you mentally ill if you have trouble eating or sleeping, or burst into tears almost daily, two weeks after someone you dearly love passes away? I don’t know anyone who thinks so, but the manual that has become the healthcare provider’s and insurer’s standard frames it so.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Way 7/Day 7: Make it a great year – express gratitude.

The research is clear: expressing gratitude improves our mood and reduces symptoms of depression. A few “ways” will address gratitude. For this one – show some gratitude for small, daily acts of kindness and consideration. Even if it’s someone’s job to take out the trash, or bag your groceries, or clear the table – say thank you. Look at the person – make eye contact. Be sincere, be clear, and express your gratitude.

Dr. Lori Puterbaugh

Odds are…your child is not autistic

Your kid who can’t eat peas because peas “feel gross” is probably not autistic. There is tremendous fear around the ever-expanding construct of Autistic Spectrum Disorder, including rapidly inflating rates of incidence. Interested readers are referred to the ongoing and vociferous feud about this within the American Psychiatric Association and other organizations. Suffice it to say, many experts worry that the increasingly flexible diagnostic criteria, which are, after all, a checklist of concerns, can now embrace a larger number of children who are not autistic but rather are within what used to be the wide range of normal, with a few little quirks. For example, many sensory sensitivities are normal. I, for one, cannot stand those fuzzy blankets with satin edges. If that fuzzy stuff touches me I feel like my cuticles are crawling. It just makes me crazy. Other people, of course, find fuzzy blankets cozy and comforting but to me, that’s like suggesting nails on a chalkboard are melodious. Some children are more sensitive to food textures than others; some are more sensitive to noise, or bright lights. Without other evidence, do not make yourself, and your child, miserable by assuming your child has a brain disorder.

If you have concerns, consult your pediatrician. Early intervention and support are critical for children, and minimizing real problems, or over-emphasizing minor quirks, can get in the way of children who really need extra care and assistance getting the help they deserve.

Finally…I like peas. They are not “gross” to me, although there was that protracted standoff when I was four…

drloriputerbaugh

Psychotherapist, Author, Teacher

Tag Archives: mental illness

Why are personality disorders so difficult to treat?

Toxic Myths, revisited

Personal Responsibility and Mental Health

Well…something’s crazy (but it’s probably not us)

Way 7/Day 7: Make it a great year – express gratitude.

Odds are…your child is not autistic