Before I Turn 23

“In what ways do you think being shy might be a positive thing?” my therapist used to ask me sometimes.

I hadn’t ever considered the answer, let alone thought to ask myself the question. Feeling insecure about how shy I’ve always been wasn’t even among the top reasons I sought out therapy in the first place. But lo and behold, after a while it became a frequent topic of conversation.

I’d shift uncomfortably in my chair before finally thinking of something. “Well if I wasn’t so shy, I’m not sure that I’d like to write as much. I probably wouldn't feel compelled to write at all.”

She’d nod her head from across the table — or across the computer screen once we eventually switched to Zoom — and jot down notes. When she looked up from her notepad, I knew it was time to expand on the thought.

It was true. Sometimes I like to write because I’m upset, or because I’m confused, or simply because I’m bored. Therapy has improved my ability to communicate how I feel, but there are still some things that are easier to express in writing. On this particular occasion, I’m writing because I want to remember what it feels like to be 22.

As I write this, I’m one day away from my twenty-third birthday. Nothing is inherently special about being 22 years old. There’s little that comes with the age, except for maybe student loan payments (although they’ve been extended several times) and other adult responsibilities. Like I said: nothing traditionally “fun.”

For me 22 was filled with a rollercoaster of emotions — some of which I hadn’t experienced before. If I wasn’t complaining about having to work the rest of my life, I was complaining about how long my hangovers now last. If I wasn’t worrying about bills, I was worrying about shopping for a cute outfit for some event on the weekend (adding to said stress about money and bills).

Luckily those examples are all manageable (and perhaps blown out of proportion), for the most part.

More significantly I moved out on my own this past year, entered into (and then ended) a new relationship, walked away from (and then re-started) therapy, quit my first full-time job, coped with loss in my family, and reconnected with my boyfriend, Jimmy.

In order to make some of these decisions, I’ve had to accept that “being shy” doesn’t always cut it as an excuse anymore. While I respect that my therapist encourages me to appreciate this part of my personality, there are instances where I need to get uncomfortable in order to move forward.

When I concluded that my previous job wasn’t paying me enough to live comfortably anymore, I naturally started to look for other, better-paying opportunities. Within a month or two, I was finally offered a new position that excited me. Any excitement that I felt, however, was almost immediately dampened by having to subsequently put in a two-weeks notice. And so I did what any Gen Z-er would have done: worked from home and scheduled a virtual meeting to make it less awkward. Once I finally got the words out of my mouth, my supervisor was just as compassionate and encouraging as I suspected she’d be, but that still didn't provide me much comfort in the few days leading up to it.

I also think about the early days of my relationship with Jimmy. If you read my Valentine’s Day post, you might remember that I was the one who reached out to him after being newly single this past winter. My gut instinct always told me that there was a future waiting for us, and even though it was necessary for my well-being to ignore that intuition for a while, it eventually led me straight back to him when the timing was right.

Rejection is my second biggest fear behind confrontation, but I put myself out there anyway and have been reaping the benefits ever since. 22 is the age that I got to re-learn how blissful it is to fall in love, and to experience it with Jimmy at my side has made it my most special year yet.

So to finish answering my therapist’s question: I think being shy also makes me super intentional when I’m faced with a big decision, or when I’m forced to confront something. It certainly makes these situations harder, but usually more rewarding in the end.

Let this past year be known for the times of stress and suffering that gave way to peace of mind and optimism. I have a job that provides enough; a loving and healthy relationship to fall back on; friends that mimic family; and high hopes for the next 12 months ahead.