Networking Anxiety Is Normal
Great networking ultimately rides on our tolerance for discomfort.
That might not sound like the most inspiring start to a blog about connection and opportunity—but it’s true. No matter how polished our elevator pitch or confident our handshake, networking inevitably includes moments that make us cringe. Awkwardness and rejection aren’t bugs in the system; they’re built-in features.
I like networking. I’ve met fascinating people, landed opportunities I didn’t expect, and had conversations that stuck with me for years. But even as someone who doesn’t dread it, I still shudder at the following moments:
- Sidling up to a group and trying to join their conversation midstream
- Getting bonked in the head by a tall person who “didn’t see me there”
- Politely trying not to take too many strawberries (there are never enough strawberries)
- Displaying earnest enthusiasm with someone I’m thrilled to meet—only to realize they’re less enthused to be talking to me
These are small things, but they add up to a larger truth: social interaction is inherently uncertain. Every time we put ourselves out there, we’re taking a risk. Will we be accepted? Overlooked? Misunderstood? These are ancient, hardwired questions.
And yet, I keep showing up. Because despite the uncomfortable moments, the benefits of connection—authentic, unexpected, human connection—are almost always worth it.
Why Networking Feels So Awkward
From a psychological perspective, what we call “awkwardness” is often a signal that we’re stretching outside of our comfort zone. Networking, by definition, pushes us into spaces where the social rules aren’t always clear. There’s hierarchy, performance pressure, and often a layer of self-consciousness (“Do I sound interesting? Do I have spinach in my teeth?”).
Our nervous systems interpret uncertainty as potential threat. Even when we’re perfectly safe, our bodies can react as though we’re under pressure—heart racing, palms sweating, mind scanning for escape routes.
This is why so many people avoid networking altogether. The discomfort feels like proof that something’s wrong—that we’re too anxious, too awkward, or too “not good at it.”
But in reality, that discomfort is often just evidence that we care. It means we’re invested. We want to connect. And connection, of any kind, involves risk.
What I See in Therapy: Social Discomfort at Work
I see this dynamic come up often with clients—especially those who feel anxious about being seen, speaking up, or taking social risks at work.
A common belief is: If I could just feel less anxious, then I could put myself out there. But the truth is often the reverse. It’s by putting ourselves out there—while feeling anxious—that we slowly build tolerance for the experience.
This is a cornerstone of exposure-based approaches in therapy. The more we expose ourselves to something uncomfortable (and survive it), the less intimidating it becomes over time. The first few experiences might feel excruciating, but our brains gradually learn that we can handle them.
For example, someone might start by attending a small professional mixer with a friend. Next time, they go solo. Then, they practice starting one conversation instead of waiting to be approached. Over time, the nervous system recalibrates. The situation stops feeling like a danger zone and starts to feel like something we can navigate, even if it’s not always fun.
Building Your Tolerance for Discomfort
There’s a sweet spot between avoidance and overexposure—the “messy middle” where we practice discomfort in manageable doses. That’s often where the most meaningful growth happens.
For some, that might mean showing up at one event a month and giving themselves permission to leave after 30 minutes. For others, it might mean introducing themselves to one new person instead of trying to “work the room.”
The goal isn’t to become perfectly confident. It’s to expand our tolerance for the natural messiness of human interaction.
Because here’s the secret: even people who look perfectly composed are often feeling some version of the same awkwardness. We’re all walking around with competing thoughts—wanting to connect, fearing rejection, hoping the hors d’oeuvres don’t run out.
Why It’s Worth It
The irony of networking is that it’s rarely about the immediate payoff. The best professional connections tend to form when we’re not performing, but simply being present—curious, authentic, and imperfect.
Discomfort is the price of admission for those moments. Without it, we’d never take the risk of introducing ourselves, asking a question, or following up afterward.
So when clients tell me, “Networking just isn’t for me,” I often encourage them to reframe it. It’s not about being smooth or strategic. It’s about building the muscle to tolerate uncertainty—and discovering that we can still be ourselves within it.
So keep at it. It’s weird for everyone. And that’s what makes it human.
