Tongue tied

What is it about using my words that scares the ever loving crap out of me?

You wouldn’t expect a person with fairly defined space in social media to say that, would you?

It’s the truth, though.

I hate calling people, though I hate calling people I know slightly less than I hate calling people I don’t know. The absolute worst is leaving a message. Rob cracks up every time he hears me do it because I sound like a babbling fool. I stumble over words, rush through the message and often forget a key piece of information. If you ever receive a voice message from me, consider yourself a rare gem, then please ignore my buffoon tendencies.

I don’t even like ordering pizza over the phone. I danced a jig when they invented online ordering. I can now order, pay and leave my tip, so all I have to do is grab the hot pizza and duck back into my house all before Pizza Delivery Person has time to make a quip about the fine/poor weather we’re having.

I danced a jig when I downloaded my first Starbucks app, too, when I found I could make my entire order on my phone.

Except you can’t actually order from your phone.

My jig died.

It’s mildly helpful, though. Before the app, I’d spit out my order then blush when the barista snootily repeated it back to me “the right way.” I’d try to memorize what he or she was saying, in which order, with which words, but I was normally too flustered by failing the coffee ordering test that I’d forget. Again.

There it is. There’s the reason I write. I just reached my epiphany and realized I’m afraid to use my words because I don’t like to fail. I’m all done with school, so you’d think I’d be done with tests, but life has hidden tests all over the place, and social situations are dripping with those hidden tests.

I’m sure it’s normal for people to fear the unknown – but it probably isn’t normal to fear the unknown because of how crossing the threshold is going to feel rather than what happens when the unknown actually happens.

As I leave my house and experience new things regularly, I clearly have enough gumption to get over myself eventually (or find a way around the fear or just give up entirely, though the latter is less frequent), but it usually takes a firm kick in the rear to do so. Usually, all it takes is hearing that feeling awkward for a few minutes is worth it.

So, people. Go forth and order from the Starbucks secret menus and report back that directing a recipe to your snooty barista isn’t half bad. Tell me the drink are worth the extra face time with judgey strangers and that I should get over myself and enjoy a Starbucks Butterbeer.

p.s. Make sure you visit my other blog, We Still Read, for a giveaway that ends at 12 a.m. on Nov. 15. Up for grabs are a $10 Amazon gift card, books and hand-knit gloves. While you’re there, peruse our book reviews and add some titles to your to-be-read shelves!