Hi, I'm Self-Conscious

A few years ago, I was taking the bus to work. I’d just started a summer job at Frito Lay in Beaverton, where I’d stand in front of a conveyor belt and box pretzels as they came out of the packaging machine. As temporary seasonal help, I had to work whatever shift they needed me on, and occasionally I’d have to go from graveyard to swing shift, swing shift to day shift, with only eight hours off in between. I’d be pretty out of it after a “double back,” as the employees called it.

Anyway, I was exhausted and unfamiliar with the surrounding area. I pulled the cord signaling the driver to pull over a few stops before the one nearest to Frito Lay. It was about a twenty minute walk from the stop to the warehouse, and I knew I’d probably be late because of it, but it didn’t matter. I had to get off. I couldn’t admit to the driver and other passengers that I was mistaken. I sheepishly got off the bus, thanked the driver, and walked the extra blocks to work, arriving a good five minutes late.

Looking back on that experience, I can’t believe how stupid I sound. I’ve ridden the bus quite a bit, and have witnessed many people pull the wrong stop and casually inform the driver they were mistaken. It’s not a big deal. But I know if I happened to do it again, I’d probably react in the same way. I’d have to get off. I’d get that flush of anxiety, almost an adrenaline surge, like blood is rushing to the head. I’d feel like everyone was looking at me. I’d feel exposed, and would do whatever it took to get out of that situation.

It’s strange the way being self-conscious seems to work. Harmless little moments can throw the mind into a spiral of discomfort. I can be having a conversation with someone at a restaurant, but when the server comes up to refill the water or coffee, I clam up, waiting for them to finish before being able to speak again. Sometimes when I’m in class and have a beverage, every little sip feels like it’s making an enormous slurping sound, drawing the attention and annoyance of those around me.

I don’t understand this strange tic in the fight or flight response that flairs up in inopportune times. I’ve played in bands over the years, and being on stage in front of a crowd never bothered me. I rather enjoy it, actually. But admitting to a bus driver that I signaled the wrong stop? I’d rather get off and walk, or if it’s too far away, wait the half hour for the next bus.