I stopped noticing the air
and let myself feel strong again
There I was, phone in hand, no less than an hour, going back and forth between pushing the "Book" button and abandoning the Mindbody app to snuggle the dog for the rest of the day. The intrusive thoughts kept coming: What if I go and then I get sick? And what kind of friend does this make me if I don't go? And Suck it up, Natalie, it's just a workout class.
Let's back up a bit so you understand where this freeze response started.
A little over a week ago, I texted a dear friend I hadn't seen in a while. She invited me to a two-hour strength and yoga class led by a friend of hers that I had never met. I told her I might not make it, seeing as family was in town that weekend. Which brought me a sense of relief because it meant I likely had an out if needed.
That's what contamination OCD and social anxiety can do to your brain.
But also? Everything in me was screaming, this sounds like so much fun! I want to go! I wish I weren't so scared!
Ever since the pandemic, I hadn't set foot in a crowded gym except once, because I just don't trust that people won't show up sick. And let’s be real: most gym-goers don’t even wipe down equipment when they’re finished. Anyway, I'm in therapy for this now and have been for some time.
But I read recently that to be in community, you have to show up even when it's inconvenient. And through self-reflection, I’ve realized that of all the things I cherish, community is one of the strongest-held values that I (sadly) haven’t been living by for a while now. So while I was sitting on the sofa, thumb hovering over the “Book” button, I asked my husband to just tell me to push it. He did, ever so lovingly (omg I love that man and how supportive he is); I paid the $35, and I was officially in it.
I sent my friend the screenshot of the booked class. And, recognizing that this was a hard thing (she knows all about my OCD), she replied with an ecstatic, "Woo hoo!" and a message of support. Of knowing. "I know these things can be stressful for you—so proud of you for following through!"
The text.
I was beaming. Why can't more people be proud of me like that? I thought.
I'm not gonna lie, on the ride over to the studio, I was nervous as all hell. That nervousness didn't go away for a while either.
Walking in, I was hugged by my friend's friend from the class, who called herself a fellow "anxious girly" and was proud of me for showing up. The instructor was warm and gracious too. The music was all late-90s/early 2000s pop anthems (my fave for pumping iron!). And somewhere in it all, the fear I walked in with turned into something else: pride. Not just for myself, but for the other women who showed up for themselves on a Sunday night from 7-9 too. And pride for the instructor who showed up to teach something brand new.
About 20 minutes in, I decided to lift heavier than I have in ages. I felt empowered being in community—I wouldn't have done that on my own during my solo basement workout, let me tell ya. Then about 30 minutes in, I didn't notice the "germy" air. I just noticed my strong body, the sweat down my back, and the infrared heat on my skin. I walked out to the smiles on my new friends’ faces and that old gym-goer strength and accomplishment I hadn't felt in years.
Am I still having intrusive thoughts today? Oh, you betcha. Will I have setbacks? Of course! OCD and anxiety are invisible illnesses I endure and manage day-to-day. But I'm not thinking about that right now. Nope. Right now I'm reveling in the fact that I did the hard thing, damn it. I'm so proud I'm tearing up typing this. And I can't wait to tell my therapist I did exposure therapy all on my own, unprompted.
So tell me: is there a small, brave, inconvenient thing you keep putting off? What if it's not as scary as the story you're telling yourself about it?
While you're here… remember that you're stronger than you think and braver than you realize, my friend. It's time to rewrite the story you keep replaying in your own mind.
You've got this. And I believe in you.
-Natalie
