“Look normal, look normal, look normal,” I whisper as I push open the door, standing on the edge of my comfort zone and fear. 

​

My heart pounds as I step into the reality ahead of me. The familiar welcome chime of the door echoes through the bookstore, alerting everyone to my presence. In a second, every eye in the store shoots in my direction, staring bullets into my soul. They know I do not belong here.

​

I have always struggled to go out in public alone, without someone I could fall back on. As a child, I had meltdowns when I had to go into a store by myself. My mom was supposed to do the scary stuff. She was my anchor for moral support. As I grew, I stopped having mental breakdowns, but I would still avoid going out by myself like the plague. I always dragged my mom or a friend along when I ran an errand or went shopping. My underlying social anxiety disorder fueled my fear of being scrutinized, judged, or embarrassed in public.

 

Soon, I will not have someone to fall back on. I will be in college, away from home, alone in a new environment. I need to learn to suck it up, forcing myself out of my shell for some sense of normalcy. So I take a deep breath and step into the sea of judgment before me.  

​

In a half-hearted attempt to shield myself, I move toward the rows of books, organized on tall, sleek bookcases. My eyes scan the shelves as I walk slowly, making sure they catch every book.  My brain fills with a million thoughts. Why do I feel so alien here alone? I shouldn't feel this way. Is everyone judging me?  My eyes land on a book, I pull it off the shelf to read the back description, the action like second nature. But I cannot focus, thoughts still swirl in my head while my heart thumps in my chest. I repeat this action a few more times in a desperate attempt to stop the thoughts from stealing away my sense of reality.

​

After many failed attempts to calm my beating heart and the bombardment in my head, I sit down, settling into a worn brown chair. I sit awkwardly, my spine straight in a chair clearly meant for lounging. Everything feels so unnatural, taking several attempts to shift and find a position I am "comfortable" in.  

​

My raging thoughts calm as I finally take in my surroundings. A wall of used books and a cafe are tucked in the corner. My chair sits at the perfect angle to view my surroundings and watch as people pass. Two friends talk about their favorite books on a couch in front of me. The owners recognize a woman who orders coffee as a regular. People study at the coffee tables and catch up on work. I realize no one looks at me. And even though I know my fears of being judged are at least somewhat irrational and exaggerated, I still can not help but feel anxious and exposed.

​

I turn my thoughts to something I can always rely on, cracking open my book to escape from reality. I read a chapter, and then another, suddenly realizing time has passed. They are about to close.

 

As I grab my bag, I lock eyes with the owner retreating from making the last drink of the night. My body tenses, and fear floods my system. Is she judging me? Does she hate me? What if the book I am reading is offensive?  But instead of turning to anger, her eyes light up, deepening into a small smile as she returns to the front counter. My fears slide away, and I begin gathering up my stuff to leave.

 

As I walk through the door, it chimes, letting everyone know I am leaving, but this time I am not scared. I want to come back, for longer this time. “Baby steps,” I tell myself, “baby steps.” Taking a deep breath, I head into my next adventure.