What’s it like not to worry about what others think? I live in constant dread.
Always thinking about all the possibilities and terrible things people could say about me.
But they never do. It’s simply all in my head. And yet I know that and it overruns my
social life. Slumping down at my desk when questions are being asked, conversing at my
first job interview, and going out with friends. This sort of feeling always finds me and
it’s always so hard to shake. So why won’t it let me be?
As of last year, I became an extremely anxious person. From not wanting to go to
certain outings to even dread the route to class. I don’t talk to anyone on the way, but my
mind rambles about all of the eyes tracking me as I tread past. Most people say I walk
fast, but I only find that now, it’s my fight or flight response kicking in. I know these
people. Why am I running away? I’m afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the
wrong thing. Certainly noticeable. If I find someone to be ‘off’, and they’re especially
close to me, I try to think of all the possible reasons for their odd behavior versus
thinking I might have done something.
Throughout the school year, I’ve seen growth in myself as a person as well as
regression. I’ve noticed that since I’m unable to listen to music all the time to shut the
world out, I’ve been more social. But I’ve participated less and less. It’s not that I don’t
want to, but I feel that if I’m not already good at that said thing, people will make fun of
me. I know it’s not true. I don’t necessarily step out of my comfort zone because simply
enough, I’m scared. Typing this even scares me. Vulnerability scares me.
I remember all the times when I was a pre-teen that I didn’t care about what any
of my other friends said because back then it didn’t matter. I had myself for that. And
now? I lost that when I lost myself in 2019. I didn’t recover that year and I’m still trying
to keep myself together. I lost my mother and she was my safe space for me when things
got rough at home when we were apart. I lost that. My overwhelming fear of not being
‘perfect’ or ‘good enough’ derives from this traumatic event. Now I know that what’s
done is done, but it impacted my life so much that I think that if I screw up, that person is
bound to leave. But only the best people stick around.
This short essay was never meant to be perfect. Imperfect at most, but sincerely
true. I’ve drawn back the curtains and let it out. There is no judgment or fear. Just words
on a page. I am not afraid of what’s yet to come, but I am ready.
