My Big Secret

For years I've fooled people, even close friends, into thinking I'm outgoing. This is because I've been practicing my good-humoured out-there personality since I was eleven or twelve. I remember the day when I decided ENOUGH with shyness.

My mom came with me to school one day. I love my mother dearly but she is loud and outspoken.* Actually, I admire her for that. It was early morning and my class was sort of lined up, sort of still playing. At home I had no problem speaking my mind but as I got closer to my classmates I clammed up.

I wished my mother would leave. I knew she would never understand why I just couldn't talk to the people at school. Shyness doesn't just make you afraid to say what you think; it erases your thoughts so that you don't have anything to say.

One of my classmates, Ceri**, small for her age, with short brown hair, glasses, and a face full of freckles, cheerfully greeted me as I approached. "Hi Jennifer!"

I smiled at her.

"Aren't you going to say hi to your friend?" Mom boomed.

"I smiled at her," I replied softly.

"You can't talk?" My Mom got louder, if that was possible.

"Jennifer hardly ever says anything," Ceri piped in helpfully.

I cringed, terrified my mother would make a big deal out of it. She didn't. At least she didn't say anything. The look on her face was one of shock, worry, and disappointment. Later, I would hear her talking (loudly) to my Dad about the incident. I'm pretty sure she also talked to my teachers about it that day, too.

I knew that their "help" would only give me more attention and make it worse. But I didn't want to disappoint my mother. And I definitely didn't want to be shy. So I decided I wasn't going to be. I forced myself to talk to people. If I couldn't think what to say, instead of staying silent, I would say something totally out there. This sometimes gave me the reputation of being an airhead, but at least I wasn't the girl who "hardly ever says anything."

Over the years I made out-going Jen my dominant personality. I don't have to fake being her; I am her. I'm comfortable in the skin of out-going Jen. She's funny and people like her. Deep down, though, I'm still shy. Shyness rears its ugly head often when:

• I have to call someone on the telephone that I don't know.
• I'm at a job interview***
• I try to small talk with people who are older than me. Like at a wine and cheese party.
• I'm in any situation where being a little goofy feels inappropriate
• In a large group situation.

Yesterday I was so mad at myself. I was in my writing class. I have this great prof who really makes the class interesting by getting discussions going. This often gives me a great deal of anxiety. I'm waiting for my turn to speak, or formulating a thought, and someone else jumps in and the moment's gone. In that class I hardly ever say anything. Yesterday I had a definite opportunity to speak. We were planning out interviews in small group and had to pick one of us to interview the teacher in front of everyone. I could have done it. Noone in the group was super keen on it. The girl who went was voluntold. I should have done it. I didn't force myself past the shyness barrier (something I've been doing since I was eleven years old!) I feel like such a coward.

*Some time later my mother would take me to a bra store and mortify me, while I was in the changeroom, by exclaiming loudly to a sales person "my daughter is self-conscious about her large breasts!"

**I don't actually remember if it was Ceri who played this pivotal role in my life, but I like to think it was. About eight years later, Ceri died of cancer. We weren't that close (we'd gone to different high schools) and I didn't go to her funeral. If I believed in angels I would say that there is one, small for her age, with short brown hair, glasses, and a face full of freckles, who looks out for me.

***I forgive myself for that one. Who doesn't get nervous in interviews? Wonder Woman that's who.