"I Can": The Power of Self-Belief

Picture this. You're fourteen years old. You're damn tired of being looked down on. You have a doctor's appointment coming up. They tell you you're going to get a shot. And you absolutely lose your mind.

All of this striving to look bigger, better, more mature, only for it all to come crashing down because your brain can't tell the difference between going to war and being protected against human papillomavirus. Did I want cervical cancer? Absolutely not. Was I braver than a five year old and able to take the shot? Heaven's guess.

It's embarrassing. I know. It's almost as embarrassing seven years later as it was when it took at least a half hour of crying frenzy to do what babies can do in a split second.

Thing was, though, as someone who's had anxiety her entire life, I came to realize that I'm afraid of needles, sure. But also? I'm afraid of myself.

I had panic attacks from the time I was about ten until I was a senior in high school. I couldn't stay overnight at someone else's house without some amount of worry. To me, it felt like Panic was a person, just a breath away, and if I wasn't careful, it could do what it wanted with me and never leave. What was stopping it? My mind? My thoughts? Those are just wisps. Concepts. Not enough to prevent Panic. Not enough to stop me from crying over a shot. Not enough to promise me I won't jerk my arm away when I'm getting a tattoo. I didn't trust myself, and because of that, I was held back.

Flash forward to college. It was the very beginnings of the new semester, and our class had just done our first round of presentations. One of my classmates gets worried about public speaking, and we could tell she was nervous while she was presenting. The professor asked me if I have any tips for public speaking, which was a silly thing to do because I'm not a public speaker, either. My parents are actors, I've done theater, and I won't choke in front of a crowd, but I'm no Billy Graham. I gathered from the professor's question, though, that it wasn't as much about public speaking as it was about how I do things that scare me. And I told him that I believed in myself.

Six months after the cervical cancer shot, when I was still fourteen, I had to get a booster. And you better believe I fret over it for pretty much the entirety of those six months. When I got there, I was terrified. But I put on music, and I didn't give anyone any trouble. And even though it felt like a really small thing, to me, that event meant that if I lock in and keep my shit together, I can do it. I am capable.

So once I got to college, little by little, I practiced my self-belief. I donated blood three times (and that's a honkin' big needle, in case you've forgotten), I got four new piercings, I got a tattoo, and I got an IV during my wisdom teeth removal. Yeah, I might've cried a couple times. I was definitely almost turned away from the blood bank because my heart was racing. But I didn't make the provider's life a living hell, and I didn't jerk, and I didn't make a scene. What changed? My mindset. I went into things that scared me thinking "I can, and I will." Once you let that thought of "well, maybe I can't" or "perhaps I shouldn't" enter your mind, you'll feel like you're losing control. Your mind is a horse, and you've got the reins. You can do it; the only thing holding you back is yourself. And once you learn how to do what scares you, does the scary thing become...well, not scary? Not always, no. I still hate needles. But I don't have panic attacks at sleepovers anymore, and I don't cry when getting a shot. Not because I'm a grown-ass adult, because even grown-ass adults have anxiety (that's completely normal). It's because I saw what I could do, not just when it came to needles, but when it came to overthinking, breakups, identity questioning, existential dread, et cetera. I was all alone in college, and through that, I learned about what I could do. I still haven't found my limits, and hopefully, I never will. So next time something scares you, go into it with "I can, and I will." If I can believe in you without ever having met you, you can believe in yourself.