If you’re one of the rare ones who suffer from social anxiety disorder, then you know the struggle living every day can be. When I think back to all the times I was forced in the spotlight (always forced, never volunteered) I can remember how I reacted to every situation—to moments I know others do not remember, and the ones I will never forget—I can go rewind to about seven years old. Someone would ask me a question and I would freeze up because I didn’t want to embarrass myself. I don’t know if I was just shy or if my social anxiety can date back that far.

Sometimes I think I have learned to live with it, but other times I think it runs my life. Some days I am perfectly content to meet a stranger, and other days I get completely thrown and have an anxiety attack if I can’t escape a situation I did not prepare for. Sometimes I think I have mastered the art of living with a disorder, mostly because if I don’t do it by myself that means I have to willingly go get help. I’ve had the same local psychiatrist page pulled up on my computer for the last four months because I no longer want my disorder to run my life. I want to be able to enjoy the things other people enjoy, like going to the beach or spending time in the city.

I have waited four months to call to make a doctor’s appointment. One of the things holding me back is the fear that maybe I can’t get help for what I have. What if she can’t prescribe me medication that actually works? What if I can’t ever go out in public without overthinking? What if I am always going to second guess everything I say and do? What if I’ll never be able to function the way I want to? What if I am not worthy to be fixed? What if? What if? What if? That’s a brief understanding of how I think whenever I am in a situation where my social anxiety is heavily present. I overthink, over-guess, and over-assume everything that’s going on around me. I think random strangers are judging me and therefore I judge myself for thinking others are judging me because, why would they? I am not worth being judged.

I think that’s my biggest complaint about leading my life second to social anxiety. I always—no matter how much I am praised, how many awards I win, how many compliments I get—I will always come second to anyone because I don’t deserve to be first. It’s not because someone has told me I am not worth anyone’s time. It’s not because someone put these thoughts in my mind. It’s because I assume what people think about me from little behaviors or certain ways people word statements about me. It’s the way someone says hello, or sees me and glances around. I assume they want to escape instead of just looking at their surroundings.

Someone could compliment my shirt and tell me it’s pretty, but I always wonder why they lied to me or why they didn’t tell me I looked pretty in the shirt, then I will never wear that shirt again because I will second guess it until I finally change into something that I can easily blended into the background while wearing.

I make decisions based on how little something will flare my anxiety up, and I am tired of putting myself second to a disorder I pretend I can control. Every day I wake up and I tell myself I am going to call the doctor. Then five comes around and I tell myself I missed my opportunity and waiting one more day won’t hurt. Then it’s the weekend, and they aren’t opened on the weekends. I am tired of letting anxiety alter my life. I am tired of having this internal battle with myself every day, a battle most people I know don’t even realize I am fighting. So, tomorrow I am making an appointment. I am finally going to get the help I need. All the what if’s will still be circling in my head, but those what if’s can shut the hell up for once and let me make a decision based on the health of myself and not the fears that control me.