“No, I can’t remember anything we learned in math.” as I complained to my sister, I again pulled up the math final practice problem. This week was the end of the first semester, and we all are studying. It was already eight O’clock at night, I knew I should be getting ready for bed. But there is too much fear and anxiety in my body. It is like my whole body has been electrocuted with powers. I was full of energy at the beginning half of the problems, but soon enough I decided to get ready for bed, since it was now nine-thirty. But I couldn’t sleep due to the fear of failing the math final running inside my head, like a whirling wind. I set the timer for four O’clock in the morning but found myself lying awake with fear.

The alarm rang, but the sun was not out yet, and I felt like having only slept for an hour. Although I was so tired that my eyes couldn’t open, I still dragged myself out of the warm bed into the freezing basement. Before studying for the final, I made cups of coffee to keep myself awake; hopefully, it will help me stay awake during class. When I got to my third cup of coffee, I had finished my math final practice. Still, the feeling of fear is inside my gut, telling me that I would fail this. I just hate the sickening feeling of anxiety. I hate the feeling that fears make my head spin, my lungs plug, and the anticipation to get it over with. But the final will take three days to finish. Having fear clinging onto me for three days is vexing. 

It is now the time to enter my first-hour math class to start the final. When I finally got to my seat, the fright grew. I took a deep breath and dove in, starting the final as the bell rang, signaling the start of class. I focused on my final, ignoring the shakiness of my hand and the buffeting of my heart—this cycle of waking up at four in the morning and dreading the final repeated for three days. I got my score on the third day, the end of the final. I looked and was immediately relieved that I had passed. But I wish I didn’t ever have to go through something like this again. I want to stay at ease and not feel dead with fear. I hated fear, it made me feel weak and made this world full of monsters. Monsters that swallow me whole, hold me captive, and use me as a puppet.

After the math final, it is the start of the speech competition season. I joined on behalf of my parents and hoped to combat some of my social anxiety monsters. My fear was worse during my first speech season than the math final. The night before the first competition, I read over my speech like my life depended on it. On the day of the competition, I felt sick to the stomach. I couldn’t get my words right, I stumbled over words and went way too fast for people to process what I was talking about. Once again the monster has won over to take control. The only positive thing that I found, is that I survived. In the end, I found myself feeling beaten by the monsters. I felt so defeated that I wished I could just give up. I told myself, it was only the first competition of my first speech season. So I decided to stay for the season to see if there is more to speech than the shuddery monsters. As the competition goes by, I now face my fear daily and it’s no big deal. It was sometimes the only motivation that drove me to practice until the middle of the speech season, when all members of the speech team would have to memorize their speech, including me.

I desperately wanted to give up. I was scared I would embarrass myself. So I practiced and practiced until only my lip knew the words to the piece as if I were a programmed robot. I still was daunted the day before that I needed to be off-script. That night, I practiced harder until I could speak inside my dream. This doesn’t improve my confidence, there is still great fear. Finally, the time came, when my name was called it was time for me to stand in front of a judge and six of my competitors to deliver the speech. Though there were only seven pairs of eyes, I still felt like I was in a room with millions of people. I felt my lungs tighten, my heart hammering against my chest, and my body weakened. I took a deep breath, stood straight, looked around the room, and began like my coaches taught me. 

As I felt the cadence of my words, my body relaxed. I found myself enjoying each word that flowed through. I didn’t need to recall my script. The fear is still there, but it was not there to gain complete control of me. I was sharing the power with the monster. That day, I went home with satisfaction. On the way home, I stared out the bus window, taking in the scenery, especially the beauty of the glittering water. The scintillating water and everything that happened felt fictional. After the bus passed the glittering water, I saw the reflection of myself smiling staring back at me. I looked harder at my reflection and realized my eyes no longer looked weary. At that moment, I felt like I was in a dream. I immediately thought back to the night before, when I was practicing so hard, and thanked myself for it. In a trice, I observed the fear that clung to me during my math final and every speech competition. This time I recognized them as more than just fear, more than just the monster, and death. This time, they guided confidence, survival tools, and motivation. Bravery isn’t overcoming fears, but accepting them and working with them.