Sometimes our own imaginations hurt us the most. Sometimes we are so filled with dread and anxiety about something, that it sets the stage for us even before the show has started. In these moments, voices fill our heads. They shout at us, drown out all sense of reason and logic and we become afraid. Afraid of things to come. Afraid of things that won't ever happen. I was afraid. Afraid that when coming into a new situation everything would go wrong. I wouldn't be accepted. Liked. Wanted. That new situation? School. I grew up homeschooled in a loving, sheltered, conservative family. I had a best friend who was just like me, and I felt safe in my tiny, socially limited world. But then I turned fourteen, and I was going to be a freshman that fall. My parents decided to send me to a small well-to-do private school eight minutes from our house. I was excited, and at the same time, more afraid than I had ever been in my whole life. I imagined the worst possible scenarios, conjured up images of rejection and fear. Micromanaging every detail as I prepared for the coming "first day" was my way of coping. I didn't go into depression, struggle with any eating problems, or even mentally admit to myself that I was really, truly, terribly afraid. It wasn't earth shattering, it wasn't rare or uncommon, it was school, as plain and simple as the word. But it was new, and new was scary. New was.......new.
The first day came, and I woke up in the dark, slipped into my bathroom and looked into the mirror at the pale faced girl with the blonde hair and gray eyes. My mom knocked on the door, and I answered.
"Are you ready?" She asked.
"Yes." I said, nodding. My words lacked any hint of a convincing quality, but she just nodded her head and turned to go.
Once the door was closed again, I dressed in a mini dress and ankle boots. My hair was wavy and my makeup done to the best of my ability. As the sun showed its face above the tops of the waving furs in my backyard, I smiled on our front porch for a picture. My dad took me to school, and I waved goodbye from the front steps. I shook the principal's hand as he held open the door, and then stepped through into that new experience that anxiety had claimed as its own.
Ten months later, as I write this, my first day is only a couple weeks away. And I'm not overcome, anymore, by fear. Last year wasn't easy, but I was accepted, liked, and wanted. I shut out the voices telling me that things wouldn't be okay, and I rose to the challenge of a new experience. Yeah, it's just school. I finally see that now. And now I'm okay, because, whatever you do, don't let fear win. You win.
