Going out with friends can sometimes be a scary prospect. For myself, anxiety is often a large barrier I have to overcome in order participate in most social events. It can be nerve-wracking to interact with people while being plagued with thoughts of panic and inadequacy. For this reason, when my friend told me about a poetry reading downtown, I was extremely nervous to attend. However, poetry has become an increasingly important part of my life and I ended up going-- and I am so glad I did.

This environment was particularly intimidating because 1. I knew all of these poets were going to be much, much better than myself and 2. I knew only two people that were going. Even on the way there I had shaking hands thinking about all of the introductions I was going to have to make and how many conversations I would have to hold, all while trying to seem not at all panicked by the idea of being both interesting and casually conversational. Some days, these simple interactions can be terrifying. And that was what I was preparing myself to feel-- an overthinking induced terror. I had sweaty palms; shaking limbs and very bad poems in my social interaction arsenal. This night was about to be very different from all of my expectations.

When we arrived and sat down a tall young man stood in the center of the room and introduced the first poet. I watched, and listened, in amazement as every person performed heartfelt, emotionally raw, funny, and insanely talented pieces. Soon I lost myself in the art. I was so drawn in and consumed by the words and emotions that my anxieties slowly lessened- just slightly.

Towards the end of the night one of my friends passed me a sign-up sheet and asked me if I wanted to perform. Incredulously I laughed and said, “No, definitely not!” She frowned, “Your write don’t you?” The answer is, of course, yes. At this point, I know you’re waiting to read that I performed my poem and that I just needed to “face my fears.”

But I did not perform or "face my fears." But that’s okay!

Don’t get me wrong, I wanted to perform. While I was disappointed in myself for not taking the chance, it just wasn't time yet. See, anxiety is a lasting struggle. It does not go away after one “good” interaction or experience. When confronted with even the simplest of tasks, major stressors can set in. Everyone goes through this in different ways and at varying levels. When we talk about things like social or general anxiety; respect, understanding, and compassion are key. For some people going out with friends to a new place is exciting! For others, it can be stressful, scary, and vastly uncomfortable. Facing your fears is great but sometimes it just isn't that simple. Going out with people that I was comfortable with, in a safe and open-minded environment was truly a great time, but that was all I was ready for. Even just the suggestion of performing sent my mind into a blind tumble down a dark tunnel of anxiety and self-doubt. Since my freshman year of high school, I have worked hard to become better at handling these emotions. One day soon, yes it will be me standing up there performing my poetry. That day was not yesterday and it is not today either. But that is okay.

As I mentioned before it is so important that when engaging in discourse about anxiety or mental health related issues, we all remain to understand and compassionate. When you hear someone express nervousness or discomfort from anxiety do your best to not use phrases such as, “just face your fears” and, “just go talk to people.” Phrases like these will make the other person feel embarrassed and belittled. Instead, try things like, “what can I do to help?” or, “what can I do to make this situation more comfortable for you?” This way you are allowing the person struggling to have some sense of control over their environment. It also expresses that even if you can’t completely understand how they’re feeling you sympathize.

I will be up on stage one day performing an original poem in front of people who love spoken word as much as I do. In the meantime, I will write and find joy in my smallest of victories.