Part 9I’m often asked why I don’t have a regular job. The an..

Part 9

I’m often asked why I don’t have a regular job. The answer lies in the fact that I simply can’t …

(see Part 8).

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when I changed. How did a cheerful, outgoing girl turn into an anxious and reserved person who’s afraid to talk to people?

I remember one incident particularly vividly. It happened at a yoga retreat in the woods. At the end of the program, we were asked to share our thoughts, thank each other, and talk about what we had learned or understood. We sat in a circle, and a ball, symbolizing the right to speak, was passed around in turn.

I sat there tensely, watching the ball inch closer and closer to me. My heart was pounding wildly, my stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and one thought kept echoing in my head: “Just let this not happen.” When the ball finally reached my hands, it felt like the world around me disappeared. The corners of my mouth trembled, my words were jumbled, my hands wouldn’t obey me, and tears welled up in my eyes. It seemed that at any moment, I might pass out.

This happens to me every time I’m fоrcеd to speak in a group. If it’s not just the two of us, if there’s no personal space, the anxiety overwhelms me completely.

This trait became a huge obstacle when I tried to find a job. But somehow, I had to make a living. In the end, I got a job at a clothing store.

However, even there, my anxiety didn’t let go of me. The manager was often nearby, a colleague worked close by, and I felt the same fear every time I had to speak. When customers entered the store, I did my best to avoid interaction. I’d look for excuses: go to the restroom, pretend I urgently needed to make a call, or start organizing the shelves—anything to avoid dealing with сlients.

I could serve a customer only if there was no one else in the store. To compensate for this fear, I tried to be helpful in other ways: cleaning, arranging items, and doing any tasks the manager assigned to me.

It was a tough bаttle—and, to be honest, I didn’t fi.ght it. I simply accepted my condition as it was. Perhaps it was this anxiety that taught me to find comfort in solitude.

Over time, I grew to love being alone. I was never bored. I always found something to do. I had only one close friend, with whom I could mееt or go for a walk.

But solitude didn’t become a prison for me—it became a refuge.