Be sure to show up: A note for the socially anxious

Here’s one thing I did this morning: I spent twenty minutes trying on shirts in the hotel bathroom mirror, trying to find something that would make me look like I deserved to eat breakfast. I haven’t eaten in twenty-four hours. My hands were shaking as I held my plate in the continental breakfast room, surrounded by strangers who were objectively eating eggs, scrolling through their phones, and completely uninterested in me. And I couldn’t wait to go.

Why does a psychological writer have no business worrying so much?

This is the part where I tell you what I do, because I think it’s important context: I run a psychology blog. I write about personality types, mental health and how to understand yourself and the people around you. I’m basically someone who explains human behavior for a living. I’m also a person who has stood in a hotel hallway to go eat a free waffle. These two things live together in my body all the time.

So why did I start Psychology Junkie? Maybe it’s because I’m some kind of psychological smartass? Do I have a sixth sense for understanding people? Am I just being selfish to a fault?

No way. I started it because people were confused as hell.

All my life I’ve felt like an outsider watching the human race from the outside trying to figure out why they do what they do. The typology gave me a lens to understand it all. Suddenly there were patterns of people’s quirks and behavior. “Oh, I see,” I thought to myself. “This person is uncomfortable because the conversation has become too existential. They are an ESTJ, they like to stick to observable facts.” Or, “That person is restless because they’ve been sitting too long; they’re an ESTP, they need action.” It was a cheat code, honestly. A way to make the overwhelming world a little less overwhelming.

What it didn’t do was cure my social anxiety. Or my OCD. Those stuck there. They are very loyal. They’re like golden retrievers who follow you everywhere, only they bring intrusive thoughts instead of tennis balls.

The approval trap

I remember a certain piece of advice I received from a typology expert colleague. They told me, “Never show your belly in that area. If you’re vulnerable, they’ll tear you apart.” And because I respected this person, I took it to heart. I’ve met bullies in the world of blogging before, so it wasn’t hard to believe. But the point is: I don’t care anymore.

All the good decisions I’ve made for my business come from not caring what people think. Not in the “I’m a rebel, screw everyone up” kind of way, but in the “I’m too tired to live in fear of not being liked” kind of way. And yes, I’m an INTJ, so technically I should be on top of everything. But let’s be honest – I want you to like me. It’s human. The problem is that the chase led nowhere.

The year I almost trashed my blog

I almost gave up on this blog after the first year. In a word, the criticism was special. Someone told me I should die because they didn’t like my color scheme, which I think is a disproportionate response to web design, but I’m not a graphic designer, so I might be missing something. Someone else commented on my weight after I posted a video that I deleted so quickly it might as well never have existed. People dissected my intelligence, my writing, my descriptions of their personality types with an enthusiasm that they had nowhere else to go. And yes, most of the feedback was positive, genuinely kind, sometimes moving. Our brain, in its infinite wisdom, just takes the one that “must die” and pins it to our psyche’s bulletin board and holds daily meetings about it.

But this is what I kept coming back to: I wasn’t writing for them. I wrote because I loved it, because I needed it, because circling words was always about learning better. Writing about psychology helps me cement the facts and their structure in my own mind. So I continued. But it wasn’t always easy. I still feel like I have to “get ready” to have permission to exist in the world.

What actually helps people (not the polished stuff)

The content I created that actually helped people was never my most sophisticated work. This messy thing: The article where I wrote about my struggle with OCDabout the video I made not knowing my own personality typeabout feeling like a fraud in an area I built. These are the ones that land because they are authentic. Clinical, careful, get-it-all posts can still help people figure out if they’re ISFP or ISFJ, but I’ve gotten more “this helped me feel less alone” posts from messy, (at least to me) awkward stuff.

People don’t seem to need you to be together. They just need me to show up.

Some people think I figured it out because I write about psychology. I would like to disprove this notion. I still stand in hotel hallways and wonder if a waffle is worth the existential cost of being noticed. I still have OCD, which means I moved the orange across my hotel desk 15 times before I could work because the placement of the orange could have existential implications for human survival. I still press send on my newsletter and immediately try not to look at my computer for a few hours like someone who threw a grenade and wants to be somewhere else when it lands. But I was no longer waiting to be healed before contributing to something. If I had waited until the anxiety was gone, Psychology Junkie would never have existed. I would still be in the hotel hallway… or not. I would be in my room, very hungry.

You don’t have to wait either

So here’s what I want to tell you, if you’ve ever felt like you were too weird or too anxious or too much of an outsider to belong, if you’ve been waiting to be good enough or fixed enough or confident enough to show up: you don’t have to wait.

Appear messy. Look weird. Feel free to show up. Just show up. Because the world needs what only you can give, even if your hands are shaking as you open the door.

If you are standing in the corridor of your own hotel

You might hesitate before sending the email, before walking out the door, before sharing an idea that seems a little too honest or personal.

Maybe you’ll wait until you’re more confident.
Several were cured.
More impressive.

Before you go back into hiding, read this to yourself. You can help:

• I don’t need to feel confident to take a small step forward.
• My anxiety is a feeling, not a statement about my worth.
• I can exist in this space exactly as I am today.
• The imperfect appearance will still appear.
• I don’t have to impress anyone to deserve to be here.
• People usually think more of themselves than they judge me.
• I survive some awkward moments. I’ve already done it.
• To me, the progress may seem small from the outside, but it still counts.
• Just because I’m anxious doesn’t mean I’m incapable of doing meaningful things.
• I don’t need to be cured to contribute something good to the world.
• Even on days when I’m unsure, I’m free to book a seat.
• Courage does not mean that fear disappears; that means I’m moving forward anyway.
• The world is better if more real people show up, not just polished ones.
• I can do it one small step at a time.

And if you can manage just one small step today—an email, a conversation, a waffle in a crowded breakfast room—it still counts.

I’ll leave you with some quotes that always help me when I’m anxious:

“Believe in yourself. You’ve survived a lot and you’ll survive whatever comes.” —Robert Tew

“They say, ‘Look before you leap.’ So look. But don’t look for too long. Don’t look into the void of uncertainty and try to predict every possible outcome, evaluate every possible mistake, prevent every possible failure. Look for the opportunity to jump and jump faster than your fear can take you.” — Vironika Tugaleva

“You dug your soul out of the darkness, you fought to be here; don’t go back to what buried you.” — Bianca Sparacino

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