Starting off with a bang – sharing my struggle with being social, putting it all out there on the internet.
Crowds and I don't mix.
It's been a battle since I was a kid. At parties, I'd stick to my parents like glue, never straying, just like a puppy following its owner.
While most people in high school aim to be popular or just befriend everyone with ease, I stuck with one group of friends; and if I couldn't find them for some reason, I'd just sit alone during lunch by the band room until the bell rang.
It's not as sad as it might sound. I never felt alone, I just genuinely preferred being by myself.
I started coming out of my shell a bit when I got my first job at Carl's Jr. I was a cashier, and I had to push myself because, well, I needed the job. Luckily, it was mostly one-on-one interactions with customers, where I was able to hold my own through mirroring personalities.
But when it came to big groups, I'd pretty much go silent. I'd take orders, hand out receipts, and that was it – a quick hi and bye.

Over the first six months, I got by - peep the yelp review. But my coworkers would start to catch on and call me a fake, because I've shuffle personalities too often, it was as if I didn't have my own.
They were right.
I dropped the job after 6 months of working there. Every job I landed after (until 2021) was dropped after 6 months since I felt that after that time period, people would always be able to see through me. See that I was a fake.
Then I got a job at Costco, and I was kind of excited to do the thing everyone else hated: pushing carts around in the heat, and even in the rain.
It was honestly a dream job at the time. I didn't have to talk to anyone, and I was getting paid while staying active. Everything was going fine until they threw me into the credit card department, signing up as many Costco members as I could before they walked out the shop.
I managed okay for the first few days, even got more sign-ups than the average joe. But as time went on, my anxiety started getting worse. I really didn't like having to go up to strangers and basically force them to sign up for a credit card.
Every no broke me.
Every time I was ignored, or brushed past, a part of me died on the inside. It's why every time I see a sales rep at a store try to talk to me, I engage with them, and politely decline their offer. They're human beings, they don't deserve to feel broken.
To cope with everything, I had to resort to getting back on meds, which, thanks to side effects, decreased my efficiency at work.
I went to my boss at the time and asked if I could go back to pushing carts because I was having anxiety attacks far too often - I just needed a reset.
Instead of understanding, I was greeted with phrases that still haunts me to this day:
We liked you better before you were medicated.
or my "favorite":
So, do you go home and like slice your wrists after work or?
I've never noped out of a job faster than I did that day. Finish out the shift in tears, crying as I pushed carts, and quit as soon as I clocked out.
This was all six or seven years ago, and I've had a lot of jobs in between, but guess what? Things haven't really changed.
Just last week, I tried to go to a networking event on my own. I thought I could handle talking about our marketing agency 4U Agency on a networking cruise since it's one of my passion projects.
I hyped myself up, I knew it was just a mental block I could overcome right? It's something I'm passionate about, something I've worked on for years now, and I felt I was comfortable with who I am and how I appear in public.
But you know what happened? I walked onto the boat, and as I the door creaked while opening it, I could see everyone staring at me. I felt I had done something horribly wrong.
15 seconds.
In 15 seconds, my mind spiraled out of control. My hands shaking as I tried to put on my nametag. Why is it taking me so long to put it on??? People are probably judging that I've been here now a while and haven't even said hello. I need fresh air.
I stood outside the boat and tried to collect my thoughts, but I couldn't. I felt that if I walked back in, the stares would be stronger. I just caused a scene right? A guy stormed out within seconds of stepping foot. I couldn't show my face again could I?
I didn't. I went home.
I just couldn't do it.
The next day, I walked into my boss's office. Shame dripping over my face, head down.
I'm sorry I wasted company money, and couldn't even stay for 15 seconds.
It was just $35 to get into the event. I shouldn't have felt so guilty about $35, but I did.
I didn't make any sales, didn't say a single word. And I did the math on the drive home - that event ended up costing $2.33 for every second I was there, $9.33 per minute, or a crazy $559.80 per hour.
I was motivated. I was ready.
And I still failed.
My boss said something that stuck with me. What am I going to do when my kid has events? Sporting events, concerts – am I going to bail on those too? I can't be the parent who's always avoiding things, who makes my kid feel like I don't care about his stuff; like I didn't love him.
I have to break free from this mindset.
If not for me, for my son.
So, here I am, going for round two.
This time, I'm doing a couple of things differently:
- Sticking to the buddy system so I have someone to fall back on
- Wearing sunglasses to avoid any awkward eye contact if my eyes start darting around anxiously
My friend's going to make sure I stick with it, no matter how anxious I get.
Let's see how it goes.