How do i handle social anxiety at work without burning out?

I’m perched at my desk, hoodie strings stuck in my coffee, pretending the “Morning, team!” I just typed didn’t take three edits and a deep breath. My calendar pings: stand-up in seven minutes, brainstorm in forty. I can already feel the battery in my chest leaking. I love my job, but the daily parade of small talk and surprise meetings? That’s where the anxiety tax racks up fast - and if I don’t watch it, I’m bankrupt by Wednesday.

Below is the playbook I’ve stitched together after too many sweaty palms and near-burnout Fridays. Take what sticks, ignore what doesn’t, remix as needed.

name the beast

Social anxiety isn’t “being shy.” It’s a nervous system doing backflips over stuff other people handle on autopilot. When I labeled it - actually said, “Yep, that’s anxiety talking” - I stopped blaming my personality and started solving a problem.

Quick test I use: if my heart rate spikes before a one-on-one, but calms down once we’re talking about work, that’s anxiety, not incompetence. Identifying the beast keeps me from spiraling into “I’m bad at my job” city.

manage energy, not just time

Time blocks are great, but anxiety burns calories the clock can’t track. I plan meetings like workouts:

• High-intensity (presentations, networking coffee): max two in a row.

• Cool-down (solo focus, emails): at least 15 minutes after each high-intensity block.

  If the calendar won’t budge, I add stealth breaks: restroom trip, water refill, quick stretch by the emergency exit. Five minutes with noise-canceling headphones can reset the whole vibe.

  Extra trick: color-code the calendar. Red = people-heavy, blue = solo work. A red-red-red afternoon? I’ll front-load the morning with things that recharge me, like deep work or a walk. Looks silly, saves my brain.

  micro-scripts and small wins

  Blank-screen panic isn’t just for writers; I get it before chit-chat too. So I keep tiny scripts in my notes app:

  • Greeting: “Hey, got a sec? Need your take on something quick.”

• Exit line: “Cool, I’ll let you get back to it. Thanks!”
• Meeting opener when I’m host: “Let’s keep this tight - goal is X, timebox Y.”

  These phrases cut the mental load. I’m not winging it; I’m reading from my own teleprompter. Each successful interaction bumps confidence by 1%. Stack enough 1% gains and suddenly the Monday demo isn’t a horror film.

  build allies and safe spaces

  Find one coworker you can message, “I’m in loud-open-office purgatory, can I crash near you?” Most people say yes, and now you’ve got a social buffer. I’ve also told my manager straight-up, “I’m great at deep work, but back-to-back meetings drain me. Can we bunch them in the afternoon?” She shrugged, moved two meetings, and life improved overnight.

  If your company has Slack channels for mental health or introverts, join. Lurking is fine; even silent solidarity helps. Allies turn the office from a stadium crowd into a small crew on your side.

  know when to log off

  Anxiety flares when boundaries blur. I delete work email from my phone at 6 p.m.; if the building isn’t on fire, it can wait. I also schedule “ghost mode” evenings: no social plans, phone on airplane, brain in vegetation mode with cartoons or a puzzle game. Guilt tries to creep in - “shouldn’t you be networking?” - but recovery is part of the job. Burnout helps no one.

  If you’re already crispy, consider sick leave or mental health days before you fully flame out. HR paperwork is annoying, but so is crying in the stairwell. Pick your hassle.

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  Social anxiety at work is a noisy roommate, not the landlord. Treat it like background music: lower the volume, pause it when you can, and blast your own playlist when you need focus. Map your energy, stash micro-scripts, lean on allies, and defend your off-hours like they’re paid invoices - because they kind of are.

  You deserve a career that doesn’t chew through your nervous system. Bookmark these moves, experiment, tweak, repeat. Next Monday, when the calendar pings, your heartbeat might still tap-dance, but you’ll know the steps.