“Come on.”

The elevator stops on our floor and its doors open. For most people, hopping onto an elevator is easy but for me, it’s a nightmare.

Anxiety. It eats you up inside. It is something you cannot simply put into words. It consumes you with fear and it becomes the thing that consumes and dictates your entire future.

I’ve always been an anxious person. I see the worst in everything and it has only been heightened by my OCD.

Every week, I go to class as part of my fellowship. Every week I board the train and every week I have to spend twenty minutes mentally preparing me for the one hour ride. What if the train gets delayed in between stops? I can already feel the doors closing in on me. My hands start to sweat. What is the train skips my stop? What if I arrive late? What if the train gets derailed? What if something bad happens on the train?
I arrive.

The elevator door opens and I wait. I wait hoping to see someone else approaching the elevator. What if the train gets stuck? What if the doors open in between floors? What if the cord snaps? I’m alone. I start to panic.
I finally make it.

I’m surrounded by 101 other fellows. What if no one wants to talk to me? I walk to the back of the room. Alone.

Then I found out we’re going to do presentations and speak in front of the group. I become physically ill. Nauseous. My eyes become fuzzy and the room around me spins. I’m about to pass out. What if I stutter? What if I mumble? Will people be able to understand me? They’re just going to pity the shy fat girl standing up in front of the room.

What if…?

I think about everything that scares me. I won’t go to beaches because what if I drown or face a shark . I won’t go to amusement parks or ride roller coasters because what if the ride gets stuck or breaks and the carts get derailed.

The demon within haunts me. I cannot escape it but I can learn how to control it.