Disclaimer: This article is not fiction, but describes events that happened many years ago. Dialogue and other details have been reproduced as accurately as possible from the author’s memory.
A young man named Martin came to see me in Philadelphia social anxiety. He says he sweats a lot—more than the average person—and if women see him sweat, he’s sure to lose it and reject him.
He said he used all sorts of deodorants and chemicals, but it made no difference. He described himself as a veritable spray of water, with sweat pouring from his face, armpits and entire body. She was so humiliated that she rarely left her apartment during the day and only went out at night to shop.
He told me that he has had this problem ever since adolescence. Now in her late 30s, she had never dated. He asked me if it was a “hopeless job”.
I was surprised because it looked so good on me. That summer, my daughter worked as a receptionist at my clinic, so I asked her for a woman’s perspective. Am I imagining things?
He said, “Dad, Martin is in the category we call drop dead gorgeous“.
So much for the desperate.
Around that time, I learned about a technique developed by legendary New York psychologist Albert Ellis for people struggling with social issues. worry and shame. This is called a an exercise that attacks shame: a deliberate attempt to do something extremely embarrassing in public only to make sure the dire consequences never happen.
When Martin asked if I was desperate, I said, “No, social anxiety is my favorite problem to treat. But I have another question. Do you have money for treatment?” He looked angry. He asked if $125 per session was not enough or if there was an additional fee for severe anxiety.
I explained that the problem was not money; it was courage.
I said, “If you want me to deal with you, you must agree to do what I ask. And some of you may be horrified. I may ask you to do something called an embarrassment exercise. It means deliberately making a fool of yourself in public. Would you agree?”
He was so eager that he did not hesitate. “No problem,” he said. “I will do whatever you ask.” I scheduled our next session for two hours, from 2 to 4 p.m., the hottest part of a Philadelphia summer day. He came early.
I told her that we would do our session outside the hospital, but first we had to stop by the clinical lab to get some special equipment. I took a test tube cleaner, basically a spear gun with a curved tube, and filled it with water. Then I explained the plan: We would run half a mile to the nearest 7-Eleven. Between the heat and humidity, we’d be nice and sweaty.
Martin thought it looked like a great new shape therapy— just run and talk to a psychiatrist.
When we arrived, I told her she was sweaty, but not too sweaty. I sprinkled water on his armpit and poured it on his head so that the water ran down his cheeks.
Then I said: “Here is the task, I ask you to enter the store, stand near the cash register, put one hand on your head, show your armpit with the other hand, and say out loud: “Look at me. I think I’m the sweatiest person in Philadelphia. It’s so hot and humid today, I’m sweating like a stuffed pig!”
At that moment, Martin understood what a shameful attack was. He flatly refused. He said it was impossible, humiliating and horrible. He insisted that he would make a complete fool of himself.
I reminded him that he promised to do everything if I agreed to work with him. It was non-negotiable. After several minutes of heated debate, he finally said, “If you think it’s too easy, Doctor, I’d like to see. you do it.”
“Enough,” I said. I squeezed it under my arm and ordered water to be poured over my head. Then I told him to watch from the door.
I walked up to the cash register, struck a pose, and loudly passed the line.
Nobody cared. People grabbed Slurpees, paid for gas, and left. I would be invisible too. Martin was stunned. Then I said, “Okay, it’s your turn, no more excuses!” I said.
He was scared, but he did it.
The result was completely different. Because she was so beautiful, people thought it was some kind of advertisement. They gathered around him, laughing and sympathy. A few told her she was sweating too and asked if she had tried this or that deodorant. Some asked what brand she was recommending and was it for a TV commercial?
It blew his mind. It was the exact opposite of what he expected.
We walked from store to store, taking turns sweating. Instead of criticizing or rejecting us, people were friendly and curious. Everyone seemed to bored and I am happy to come across incredible and interesting things.
Finally, we entered a boutique filled with trendy women’s clothing. I noticed a young woman eyeing Martin, but he didn’t see it. His mind is trained to filter out anything that contradicts his negative beliefs.
I approached him and told him to practice. This time he was firm. It is not possible. Terrible. Except for the drawings. He was sure she would find him disgusting.
I said, “Martin, this is your final assignment. Once you do it, you’ll graduate with honors. I promise I won’t ask you to do any more embarrassing attack exercises.”
Cautiously approached him, struck a pose and extended his line.
He seemed happy to come to her side, but she seemed a little surprised by what he said. In a few minutes they were deep in conversation. A few minutes later, he said he had to go to Presbyterian Hospital for a doctor’s appointment, but wondered if they could meet for coffee sometime.
“It sounds great,” Martin said.
“So,” he asked, “do you need my name and phone number to call me?”
“Yes,” he said. “That helps. I’m Martin.”
He wrote down his number on a piece of paper, put it in his hand and closed his fist gently. “Now make sure you don’t lose it, Martin,” he said before walking away.
Martin stood there, staring at his closed fist. He was shocked. He just realized that his flaws are not an obstacle to love. His honesty and modesty probably even endeared him to the woman he met and was an invaluable asset that balanced out his intimidating exterior.
Martin and I only met a few times after that. He had no social anxiety little by little improvement – it disappeared. Not because he stopped sweating, but because he fully embraced it and stopped hiding it in shame.
This is the part that most people don’t understand about anxiety. It doesn’t come from sweating. flushingtrembling or slurring words. This is caused by the belief that people will reject you if they see you for who you are. Martin put this belief to the test in public and with great courage, and made a life-changing discovery: the monster he feared had no teeth.
Another lesson? Shame is like a vampire. It dies from exposure to sunlight.
