Deer in headlights

What the hell am I doing here? (and I don't mean this as a rhetorical or philosophical question. I am past the shadows of who am I, what purpose is there to life and other teenage years' crap) I really means this, as I am away from home for a 2 day training in a stunning middle of nowhere. Said training includes accommodation and meals, which is great as it is also a chance to socialise and meet new people... Wait! What?... my breathing is suddenly quite shallow and my heart beats to 100m world record speed... Do I strike you as the social kind in any way? You are wrong in monumental proportions. I am the one that (after 10 minutes making up the courage to actually walk into the dining room) sits alone at a table for 6 because she can't sum up the nerves to say 'can I sit here?' to any of the people in the other tables. The people that throughout dinner chatted away with each other nicely like normal people. Me? Midway through the main course I was joined by another freak of my species. We managed to not speak a word to each other or anyone else other than the waiter for that matter. Well, but did you go to the bar after? Did I heck! I went straight to my room with my tail between my legs trying not to have a panic attack every time I think of the next 2 days. Sorry to burst your bubble, but I really am shy and awkward and a total twat in social things with strangers. I am not putting myself down here, I know I can be smart and witty and even charming at (drunken) times but only if I am already in a comfort zone... if I know my surroundings and the people, especially the people. In all other cases I am the lonely girl in the corner, a proper deer in headlights. I can be nice and polite if anyone approaches me, but by all means I will be a daft, uninteresting being... I don't mean to, but it's like my brain cells all go on thinking strike. Akward is the nicest euphemism to describe me in those situations. It is painful to watch and even worse to feel. Let's face the facts once and for all. I am a social pariah. And for pulling through my daftness long enough (and sometimes it is looong) to actually get to know me, my friends deserve to be beatified as patron saints of sheer patience.