I was always a shy and introverted kid. I was the kid that never put up their hand in class to answer a question. I would break out in a sweat if I was ever called upon, and if I ever had to present in front of the class, I would start shaking and stop breathing. 

But in high school, I made a gang of geeky friends, the academic structure suited me well, and I absolutely nailed applicable maths and calculus. I ended up doing well in high school, really well. I was the dux of my graduating year. In uni though, everything changed. I struggled with the lack of structure and needing to try and make new friends. 

I would walk past the TAV and never go in. Between classes, I would head straight to the bathroom to avoid people. And when I was finished for the day, I would drive straight home. Eventually, I stopped going to classes altogether and started living, for the most part, like a Japanese. Hikikomori. Isolated in the comfort of my home. 

And the more I stayed in, the more fearful I became of going out. I somehow managed to… Well, I ended up failing a bunch of units, but somehow managed to complete my degree, and somehow managed to find work, which was… kind of a minor miracle when I think about it. That brought back some structure in my life, but I was still struggling and isolated in so many ways. 

And that’s where I was when about 10 years ago my dad was diagnosed with a brain tumour and needed emergency surgery within days. The surgery went badly and left him unable to walk or talk. He was discharged into palliative care, and expected to pass away within months. But, the family rallied together, and we did everything that we could to help him get better. 

And, incredibly, he did. It was the most miraculous thing I’ve seen in my life, but that’s a whole other story. I’ve since read or heard people say that cancer was the best thing that happened to them. Facing their own mortality gave them clarity. Although I wasn’t facing my own mortality, it was the first time. 

 I understood on an intuitive and emotional level just how short life is. As Confucius said, we all have two lives, and our second life starts after we realise we only have one. I’d come to the belief over many, many years that I was a really shy and introverted person, and that’s just how it was. I’d always wanted to live this life, this big full life, full of adventure, but I just couldn’t do it. 

Then one day I stumbled upon the symptoms of social anxiety on the internet and was shocked at how perfectly they described me. Social anxiety, or social phobia as it’s also known, is more than just shyness. It’s a chronic and excessive fear of negative judgment. For me and the roughly 5 percent of the population, with social anxiety, it manifests as a vicious cycle of anxious thoughts, the physical symptoms brought on by the fight or flight response. 

And avoidance and safety behaviours. After my dad had almost died, I resolved to taking the steps to do something about my social anxiety and changing my life, no matter how hard it seemed. And it was hard. I got into a 12-week group therapy course for social anxiety where half the class dropped out after the first week there. 

 There, I learned that social anxiety, that avoidance of anxiety provoking situations, is enemy number one when it comes to social anxiety. It grows and perpetuates that anxiety, forcing it, digging that hole ever deeper, making it ever harder to get yourself out of. When my dad had recovered well enough, the whole family went on holiday to Malaysia, where my parents are from. 

We were all sitting around in a bedroom one night, when I decided it might be a good idea to interview my dad using an app. One of the apps suggested questions. That I asked dad was what is one of your greatest accomplishments in life? After a long pause, Dad said I didn’t accomplish anything frankly speaking. 

I’m a loser. Dad was a good man. He was a flawed human being and he wasn’t a perfect dad by any means. But he was a good man whose friends and family could always rely on, so it broke my heart to hear him say those words. At the same time, it so clearly resonated with me. That’s how I felt. My dad has since passed away, but the memory of him and everything he went through is a constant reminder to keep trying and make the most out of this one life. 

Since his illness, I’ve plunged myself into life more and more, forcing myself to confront my anxiety in situation after situation. With various levels of success and failure along the way, times when I would say yes to everything. Times when I would feel like I was gonna die, talking in front of a big group of people, and times when I would retreat into avoidance for long periods. It’s been hard. and I still feel like a bit of a loser at times. But I have got to live a big, full life, full of adventure, like the time I trained to become an acro yoga teacher in Thailand, or the super tough months I spent working in Liberia and Myanmar, or the really fun naked bike ride I joined in Seattle. 

Social anxiety is still a constant struggle for me, but when things get tough, I think of my dad, and… I know it’s all worthwhile. Thanks. 

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