As I shakily rise from my seat at Mozart’s Coffee Roasters, I wipe my sweaty palms on the front of my jeans. The rhythmic thumping of my heart reverberates beneath my shirt as I navigate toward the cash register, each step laden with the weight of my nerves. The barista looks at me with questioning eyes as I finally spit out what I’ve been so nervous to say: “Can I please have some more brown sugar syrup?”

As far as I can remember, I’ve been anxious. Whether it was a science fair competition or talking to my professors about my grade, the pit in my stomach has been a constant (and still is). I’ve tried everything: meditation, deep breathing and chamomile tea, and while soothing, they have done little for my in-the-moment jitters. Then, Toastmasters threw me for a loop. 

Toastmasters is an international club that cultivates skills in public speaking and communication. While it may sound banal, nothing is boring about animatedly giving a speech whilst someone counts the amount of “ums” and “likes” you spout. Every time I’m up, I feel the same sweaty palms, hammering heartbeat and pit in my stomach. The kicker? I haven’t actually ever given a speech.

I attend as a guest every week, and every week I’m anxious. It’s weird; I watch people do the things that scare me — and I’m fine. But, at the end of every meeting, the guest must stand up, introduce themselves and state a word to describe their experience. One word. One word has me working up a sweat visible through my clothes, while members are being vulnerable with their speeches on stage. 

After missing opportunities and feeling like a fish out of water, I decided something needed to change. Public speaking made me uncomfortable? I’d do it as much as I could. Without knowing it, I’d thrown myself into exposure therapy, desensitizing myself one public speech at a time. The American Psychological Association states that in exposure therapy, “psychologists create a safe environment in which to expose individuals to the things they fear and avoid.” 

Nowadays, I find myself comfortable saying “yes” to things I could only dream of. Impromptu debate? Count me in. I may stumble over my words and my face may turn beet-red, but I’m still doing it. With each “yes,” I’m rewriting my story, turning anxiety into courage and transforming each nervous heartbeat into a rhythm of empowerment. It turns out that facing fear one word at a time is the first step toward rewriting the sentences and paragraphs of anxiety that have filled the pages of my life. While the hammering in my chest and moisture from my palms hasn’t quite disappeared, I’ve become a lot better at throwing myself into uncomfortable situations, and the underarms of my t-shirts thank me for it. 

As you embark on your collegiate journey, do something that makes you uncomfortable. No matter how big or small — seek out experiences to shake up your life. Who knows? You might be better for it. 

Siddiqi is a business freshman from Spring, Texas.