I wake up with the hope that today I will be able to complete the day without feeling nervous. I sit up with confidence, declaring that I will speak up in class and show all of my peers just how bright I am. I walk with a spring in my step to my closet, feeling satisfied with my excellent mood and motivation to tackle the day. With a loud creak, I swing my closet door open to pick out the cutest and highest fashion outfit ever that will blow everyone at school away! I dress with a smile on my face, look in the mirror, and feel satisfied with my choice. I prepare to leave soon, packing my bag with my textbooks and binders until it is so heavy that I can barely carry it. With one last look in the mirror, I realize how stupid I look in these pants, how my sweater looks frumpy, and how awful my hair looks that way.

One glance in the mirror shatters my confidence. I feel the anxiety pump through my veins, my heart beating so quickly a doctor would have mistaken me for a marathon runner at the finish line. As I stare intently at myself in the mirror, the pants begin to look like they belong to a clown, and the sweater has become two sizes bigger and turned from emerald to puke green. My hair has become a rat’s nest in my eyes, and I can feel the nervous sweat begin.

You look disgusting.

I tell my mind to shut up, and I focus on calming down. Breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven, and breathe out for eight. I repeat this until I feel my heart rate slow. I look in the mirror again. The sweater is now only one size too big, and the pants don’t look as clownish. But I still feel like my lungs are constricted.

If you don’t change, you’re going to get made fun of.

I try to block my mind out, but it’s so persistent in making me change. Although I’ve never truly been bullied, my mind is very good at predicting when people will.

You have to leave soon. If you don’t change now, then you’ll be late and look stupid. And if you’re late, then people will stare at you and make you feel uncomfortable. And you might get in trouble by your teacher, or even the principal, for being late. Play it safe and wear jeans and a t-shirt! Go!

I quickly dress in what my mind advised me to wear, and I run out of my room. I know I’m hungry, but the elephant sitting in my stomach says if I eat anything, I’ll throw up at school in the hallway on that senior who obviously doesn’t like me. My mind and nerves agree, making it clear with the sudden pain in my side.

When it’s time to leave, I load all my bags into the car, stopping to ask myself if people will think it’s weird that I have three bags. With a sudden rush of anxiety, I force myself to get in the car and block out the voices of my peers making fun of me, although they never have.

I try another round of breathing techniques on the way to school, hoping the upset feeling in my stomach will vanish. I tell myself that I’m okay, but my mind tells me of everything that is going to go wrong today.

You did horrible on your last trig quiz.

Your hair looks greasy, and people are going to stare.

You won’t understand anything in Spanish today, and you’ll be practicing your pronunciation. Now the entire class will hear you mess up every word!

I try to shut my brain up, but it just won’t stop. By now I’m completely exhausted from dueling with my brain and trying to breathe. On the ride to school, I feel my heart pounding. With every passing car, tractor-trailer, and turn, I feel anxious.

That car is swerving into the lane.

He’s driving too fast.

Whatever that thing on the back of that flatbed is, it’s going to fall off and kill you.

With one last turn, I’m in the school parking lot. I get out of the car and feel as if everyone is staring at me. I try not to slip on the ice, and with the struggle to remain balanced, I feel my cheeks burning with embarrassment.
You look like an idiot.

I throw my backpack over my shoulders, making sure the straps are even, and begin the long, icy walk to the building.

They’re uneven.

I fight back the urge to check my straps.

Seriously, they’re uneven.

I begin to feel like I can’t breathe, but I tell myself to leave the straps alone.

You’re being ridiculous. Just fix them. You look like you can’t wear a backpack right.
I check my straps, only to find them even.

OCD loser.

When I get to my locker, I feel a bit at ease because I see him. I talk to him, walk with him to class, and enter into a room filled with some of my favorite people. In this moment I feel completely at ease. When I call out the wrong answer, it doesn’t sit in my chest like a cinderblock. I have my best friends to laugh with me and playfully argue with the teacher about how my answer was obviously right. I feel safe. My compulsions take a break.

I still deal with my basic social anxiety throughout the day. I fight the urge to look away when someone looks in my eyes while speaking to me, and my voice awkwardly loses its sound when I feel uncomfortable. I feel awkward walking alone in the hall, constantly scratching my nose and adjusting my clothing. These things may seem like nothing to those who see me, but to me I am a puppet on strings.

Scratch your nose.
Pull down your shirt.
Fix your hair.
Pick that hangnail.
Fix your hair.
Fix your hair.
FIX YOUR HAIR!

It’s a constant urge to do these things, and if I try to resist, then I feel like I can’t breathe. Before I can calm myself down, I’m touching my nose and adjusting my sleeves. It’s an exhausting cycle of anxiety, being at ease, compulsion, being at ease, and repeat.

The worst part of my day is when it’s over. By the time that I’m home, it’s past six o’clock. I quickly eat dinner at the dinner table with my family, saying little to nothing because my brain is both in chaos and completely worn by this point in the day, and then shower in my tiny green bathroom just as quickly to compensate for the lack of time I have to do my homework. I complete my history assignments and work on English all while allowing my lion mane hair to dry. At ten o’clock, I tell myself that my body needs rest. I say goodnight to my parents, turn off the light, and crawl into my colorful bed. The second that my head has hit the pillow, my brain decides to click back on.
Give me the quadratic equation right now.

What’s the definition of ubiquitous?

Now redo that horrible play you made tonight, and try to actually get the ball somewhere.

You’re not allowed to sleep until you plan out your day for tomorrow and worry about your future and all the homework you didn’t have time to do.

I try to shut my brain up and focus on just sleeping, but I drift in and out of consciousness without getting any rest. My mind wanders and memorizes things so quickly that I barely remember the last thing that ran through my mind. Finally, once my body is too exhausted to think of one more thing, I pass out. At six a.m. the cycle repeats again, only now I’ve woken up with fifteen minutes to dress and make myself presentable. It is a daily struggle to function.