I stand in line to get a number, and counter 8 is where my fate brings me. A man with no smile, few words, and an eye that doesn’t wait long before it starts judging. What are you here for? He asks. There’s so much happening on the inside. I stutter. I can see the words attempting to make their way out, but my tongue refuses to pick them. And all we both hear are sounds that never even belonged to any language. He starts tapping his feet, and it takes a few seconds before I can form a proper sentence. He asks more unexpected questions, and I get even more unexpectedly anxious. You’re not prepared, he emotionlessly says. Gives me back my ID and tells me I skipped a step on the process. It shouldn’t take much time. Finish it and come back, I’ll be waiting.

I hold my bag and walk away, feeling too heavy. It’s okay; just one more step. I can do this.

I get it done, and walk back to his counter.

I’ll say all the right things this time. I’ll fix the terrible impression he must now have of me. I’ll do it so eloquently, he’ll realize I’m an entirely different person. I almost make it there, but then I start staggering. I pause for a second, why do I have to go back there? Why do I even need to prove anything? Can I, maybe, try a different one?

I stand in line again to get another number, and it takes me to counter 28. I cross my fingers, and hand over my ID to a lady I see nothing of beyond her eyes. She instantly looks up and “you have a beautiful name!” are the first words she utters. I smile. The first smile my face has witnessed since morning. What can I help you with? She asks. And my tongue takes off without pausing to check-in with my thoughts for even a second. It answers. She listens so patiently, even as the queue keeps getting longer. I have her undivided attention, and she doesn’t seem to be bothered by all my questions. She, too, answers. She goes so many extra miles to help me. And I walk away with lightness in my heart, though I still have unresolved problems.

I realize I’m the same naturally anxious person, and that this, too, was the very same setting. But sometimes the tiggers really get to me...when I’m not very attentive. And if fate brings me closer to them, I’m allowed to find an easier alternative. I used to think this only means I’m taking the easy way out. I used to think I should rather “face my demons” and learn how to deal with what makes me uncomfortable. But really, why would I, when this world already has so many God-sent angels?

If there’s a way I can avoid those triggers, I’m no longer calling it denial. For I am aware of their existence; I am very aware they bring so much discomfort. And I’m simply choosing to take care of myself instead, because... she deserves it. ❤️