My Battle Against Shyness

Imagine being sentenced to ten years behind a wall - unable to communicate - because you are too afraid to speak up! The prison walls are made of shyness. All my life, I have been entrapped by those walls.

I can't think of a single event that started my tailspin into shyness. I was afraid to talk to anyone because of what they might think or say. My father drove me behind the walls. Even though his behaviors weren't legally abusive, he made my life miserable.

As I grew up, I hated waking up each morning because I knew my father was likely to say that I was fat or that nobody would want to talk to me. When I was in sixth grade, my father asked me what my future plans were. I told him that I wanted to be a journalist. He told me I should decide on another career because journalism would be too competitive. He suggested nursing or teaching, but I had my heart set on a career in writing.

He had the nerve to say that I needed a man to be successful in journalism. To me, those words were abusive. Afraid to confront him, I crawled back to my room where I knew I would be safe.

My only defense against my father was to retreat and hide until all was clear. That usually meant waiting until my father left the house or went to sleep. While I waited, I wrote. I wrote about my feelings and thoughts because that was my only outlet.

As I grew up, I got involved in sports, especially volleyball. While I was 13 years old, I served 21 points and 12 aces in a middle school volleyball game. That night when he heard, my father did not get excited or even say how proud he was about my accomplishments. Instead, he drained my self-esteem by suggesting ways to improve my serving ability.

His comments hurt because fathers are supposed to love their children no matter what. My self-worth took a nosedive because he overlooked the positive things in my life and focused on the negative. He constantly put me down. After all those lectures, I started believing him. I felt my life was worthless.

After my father reiterated his belief that I can't be successful without a man, I got so furious that I threw a chair against my bedroom wall. It made a sizeable hole underneath my window. All my emotions were running through me and I exploded. I desperated wanted to talk about this to my teachers and classmates, but I was too scared to tell the truth about what was happening at home. I thought they would be surprised and think badly of me. I know how I should have talked to them. Then, as a junior in high school, I did not make the varsity volleyball team. Instead of comforting me, my father said that I needed to lose weight. I again felt worthless.

To cope, I retreated into my prison. I thought nobody would want to hear my opinion on any matter, so I began to spend most of my free time in my bedroom. I feared my father would come in and verbally abuse me, so I kept the door locked.

I spent countless hours alone writing in notebooks. I knew that these walls would not tell me that I was stupid. Nobody could hurt me there.

I was only able to express myself on paper because nobody could see what I wrote. I was free to write whatever I choose. I desperately needed that openness to keep from going inside.

The turning point in my life was when my parents divorced in 1995. My mom, sister and I moved into another house about fifteen miles away two months before my high school graduation. The divorce was desperately overdue.

I began to feel better because I didn’t have to deal with my father's abusive words. I still continue having problems talking with people, but it gets slightly better if someone starts a conversation with me.

Shyness does not slither away when you become an adult. It sticks with you.