Socially Anxious Rachel Wilcox

Socially Anxious

What makes you uncomfortable? Uneasy?

What makes you feel anxious Or queasy?

Scared to admit my favorite show, Dreading the moment the words escape my lips, Hoping they'll overlook it and ask no questions. What if they don’t like it? What if they think I’m too young, too old?

You know it doesn't matter. People shouldn't be able to make you feel a certain way, An anxious way.

But they do They can

Without giving one word With only One raised eyebrow One inquiring look.

Braided with anxiety, Intertwined with embarrassment,

The feeling of going into a restaurant and thinking, “I got this, all I want is a chicken taco.” The walk up to the counter, I rehearse what I plan to say in my head, Feeling confident and ready

Ready to order the heck out of the delicious goodness coming my way Perfectly spiced chicken, crunchy lettuce.

When they call “next!” I’m thinking, “Oh no!” Suddenly fidgety, Staring off into space, Or looking down to my boots. Walking forward

In a barely audible whisper I say, “chicken taco.”

The feeling of going to a friend’s house for a sleepover, And being asked what I would want for dinner. I’m thinking “Pizza sounds good, thanks.” But instead I say, “I don’t have a preference.” The line comes out before I can really think, An instinct It's not exactly a lie, But why do I feel scared and anxious? Like I can’t state my opinion?

No one told you to feel anxious, To feel scared, Not knowing how or why that feeling ever came. Your parents didn’t tell you, Neither did your teachers, Friends, Or family. No one talks about it

Meeting a friend of your parents, They say, “Dexter is just about your age! I know you’ll get along. ” Knowing I’ll most likely never see them again Walking toward them, Someone I would never walk up to, let alone be friends with Looking around 7 feet tall and only 2 years older, Looking like he couldn’t care less he was here.

Wondering who will say the first word Feeling internally awkward Suddenly self-aware and noticing the space my body is taking up Standing there Looking for someone I know to save me.

First day of school in a new place No one talks to you, no one looks at you, You walk up to a group and stand awkwardly outside the circle, Wondering how to get in.

Standing in a line, Looking around for someone to ask where the bathroom is Sometimes, people aren't bothered They’ll forget your question in 5 minutes. It doesn’t change their day.

Like you’re being graded, or interrogated, looked over and Evaluated,

I feel it. The clock seems to slow, So that every tick rings through my ears

Finding my hands sweaty, Absentmindedly fiddling with the zipper on my jacket.

Hesitant to share, look, or ask

It's a relief when they are actually nice, When they are kind enough to do What you would do, saying “Sure, the bathroom is that way!”

Anxiety. The feeling of fear, Of fearing what most would consider normal. Most, meaning least, Because most people struggle with it.

I know it doesn't matter, people shouldn't be able to make me feel a certain way, An anxious way.

What makes you feel anxious Or queasy?

What makes you uncomfortable? Uneasy?

Rachel Wilcox, Grade 8 Oak Hill Montessori, Shoreview Teaching Artist, Desdamona