69 Ashan, 724
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Confidence was like beauty- it was held all in the eye of the beholder. Someone’s confidence could be simply them asking to try a particular flavour of ice cream whilst another’s confidence could be inquiry a lovely lady about the prospects of courtship. Someone’s confidence may be them asking for a dressing room to try on a size of shirt they didn’t think would fit whilst another’s confidence could be shouting, in a public setting, at the top of their lungs the ridiculousness that resulted from a recent conversation with an ex-lover. Kotton did not fit into any of these categories. Yes, he was very much an awkward butterfly, a bit antisocial, and inept in the ability to respond appropriately to people who either wanted a friendly exchange of words, or a bitter argument. But he wanted to work on that part of himself. He wanted to break out of his shell and become better.
Standing against a very random, innocuous brick corner on a very arbitrary and nonspecific street was a young man, feet crossed at the ankles, arms entangled and gently resting against his chest, chin up with eyes peering over the edge of his nose. This particular young man may have appeared to be confident but that was very much not the case. He was doubtful, sheepish, discomfited and in the throes of trying to hype himself up to do an activity he wouldn’t normally do- an activity he really didn't want to do. But amidst all that, he was still hopeful and he was willing. Willing to perform this awkward activity that was way beyond his limits of comfortability. And that was more encouragement than anyone needed to just... do it.
Kotton wanted to build up his charisma. He didn’t want to be afraid or easily embarrassed when speaking to people. This was the extreme opposite of who he was as a person- always timid, antisocial, discrete and non-conversational unless absolutely essential, but that's what made the potential for progress all the more available. He saw those traits of his as traits that hadn't benefited him in a long time. He saw those traits of his as traits he no longer wanted to possess. He wanted to become more ambivalent, more outgoing, and interesting and approachable. So as his therapist had suggested, he needed to gradually tip toe out of what was soft and hospitable to him, and instead dredge up the fear and unsettling so as to face what he viewed a fear. He was tired of being prey to something that didn’t think (he didn't want to be prey to anything, but let's start at ground zero). He no longer wanted to be controlled by an emotion that had no right in justifying how he lived his life. Anxiety begone!
The young man who stood against the brick wall with legs and arms crossed against themselves, adjusted his body to display a more open presentation of himself. Then he waltzed up to the nearest person. He bit his tongue and tried to resist all thoughts that screamed for him to stop. He opened his mouth, competing with the force that demanded that he keep his mouth closed, and said, “Can you lend me one-hundwed coins?”
The stranger he had approached looked at him questionably. He was clearly taken-aback, for this was not what he had anticipated during his journey to do whatever it was he meant to do. He brushed his russet brown hair behind his enormous ears and made to move the dark glasses that shielded his eyes. The raised eyebrows and look of confusion was much easier to see now that his face could be seen.
“No?” he asked rather than answered. Kotton couldn't believe how much more raised someone's eyebrows could be until he had been given this stranger's reply.
Kotton’s immediate response was to shut down, back off, step to the side, and shroud his understandably coy expression. But his therapist's words kept echoing inside his head. ‘If you want to be someone different- if you want to be a better version of yourself- then you must step outside your comfort zone’. So, against every fibre of his being, Kotton resisted the urge to cower.
“Awe you suwe? It would make the wowld to me.” Whilst under this persona of confidence, still being controlled by this facade of outlandish self-assurance, he still adhered to his values of being truthful; he dare not lie. Which is why he wouldn’t say he ‘needed it’ nor would he invite the possibility of manipulating such an unaware soul by declaring it was ‘essential to his survival’.
The man narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses so they were once again concealing his gaze. “I said no,” he confirmed before taking lengthly strides away from Kotton.
The young man felt equal parts wracked with nerves and bolstered with the confidence of adrenaline. He didn’t know whether he wanted to continue with his experiment or fold his deck early. A deep breath was the only thing that kept him focused on what he needed to do next. And that was to continue. This was all to help him best his social anxiety. His therapist had explained to him that this method was to experience rejection and desensitize himself to being rejected; it was a form of exposure therapy meant to assuage the fears that came with various fears such as awkwardness and social exhaustion. And since Kotton was paying to listen to such an experienced professional, he wasn’t about to dismiss any of her ideas, especially if it could indeed help him become a better person.
As antisocial and inherently nervous as he was, he had to spend longer than he hoped recollecting his emotions after this first encounter. But that was all a part of the game. He was still learning (or unlearning depending on how you viewed it) but was still very much in line with the rules. The rules had been outlined for him during his last counselling session. They stated that a rejection only counts if you are out of your comfort zone. A rejection should also only count if your request is denied. And at the time of rejection, the player, which was himself, should be left in a position of vulnerability. And boy, did he feel sensitive and vulnerable to the reaction and response he had received from the man he had asked a hundred coins from. The fact that negative feelings were seen as positive progress were beyond his comprehension, but nonetheless helpful in his journey to becoming more self-confident.
Once he had the next set of ridiculous questions fastened within his mind, Kotton approached the most easily accessible individual. She was a middle aged woman who held an infant high up on her hip. He could only fathom the amount of deep breaths that could have prepared him for this interaction, but the very state of being unprepared and caught off guard were all essential parts of the game.
He strolled up to her with only mild hesitation. He was becoming rather good at hiding his fear by this point. He then inquired, “can I babysit your child for a while?” He administered the most sincere smile he could manage, his face still so stern with anxiety. All he could hope for was to not be slapped in the face in lieu of such a bizarre request. As an overthinker, Kotton was always looking into the future. He was always conjuring scenarios that may or may not happen. His intuition walked on a tightrope so thin that the border into anxiety and unrealism was almost nonexistent. But this forward thinking, whilst usually a hindrance to his being mentally stable, was also a superpower, because he was always able to expect the worst when worse came to wear. Futuristic planning gave him an edge that many people didn’t have.
Blessed be him, he received no palm across his cheek. He did however receive a sour expression- a scrunched up face that could realistically be compared to an inbred dog, a pug more specifically. The least of his worries dissipated as she simply strutted away, child still upon her hip if not having been brought closer to her chest with the need of further protection.
After his second experience stepping outside the realm of what what was comfortable to him, the young man realised that this entire experiment wasn’t as challenging as he had first thought it would be. Perhaps assuming something before it happened was a waste of time and emotion. Someone need not fret about hypotheticals before actuality occurred, because this led to undue anxiety. He needn't refer to a scientific article or speak to a scientist to acknowledge this fact. This came straight from personal experience. And after recalling several incidents as a medic, Kotton found this to be true. He had been in several situations where he had assumed the worst, used valuable energy fretting about something that would never be. It was a waste of time and energy. He would certainly note this in his journal when he was able, even if he would never look at it because anxiety was not something that allowed anyone the time to review or reflect or reconnect with anything, notes, facts, observations and all.
Before Kotton went about wandering to the next person, he took some time to reflect on everything he had just witnessed. Emotional tolerance training, as his therapist had explained, was a developmental behaviour therapy counsellors often used to help their patients overcome fears or other issues that may prohibit them from going about their days like any other person would. He was trying to regulate his emotions and the thoughts that corresponded because of them. Thus far, he felt like he had made substantial progress. Would Cyndica be proud of him? Would she have any additional suggestions for how he could improve?
A few minutes went by, thereby marking the end of his reflection time, or so Kotton had decided. He wanted to continue with his experiment of rejection exposure so he went about finding another individual to pursue. They just so happened to be wandering down the streets of downtown Scalvoris. He held back as much opinion as he could, but couldn’t help but feel absolutely frightened by the individual he had aimlessly picked to converse with.
Large, muscular, and at least 183 centimetres, this individual had the build of an ox with hair of equal match to his physical size- six or more centimetres of mo-hawk, that was. If this guy was in the running for most intimidating man alive, he would most definitely appear in the top ten, if not being the one to take first prize.
This was the ultimate boss for the antisocial and uncomfortable and very much awkward young man. This was the last test to showcase just how confident he could make himself be. This was the last level of his journey to display just how disciplined he could make himself without wetting his pants and running home to find another. Clothing was expensive nowadays, afterall.
A singular inhale was not enough to prepare him for this interaction, no. He had to heave and I mean heave to find enough gusto to force himself to walk even a singular step in that man’s direction. But he did. Kotton threw out all doubts, all worries, every instinct that shrieked at him with the sweet desire to retreat. But he was in no actual danger because if he was, logic would be ever present, instructing him as to the reinstated laws, and repercussions against those who went against said laws, be it assault, or battery, or conspiracy to threaten. He didn't know what the laws were, but what he had just mentioned sounded legitimate enough. He could always make a case against someone who had done him wrong. That was, if he was still alive and breathing to attest the case. But there he was overthinking and determining the outcomes of worse case scenarios. Super power, right?
One foot in front of the other, Kotton finally found himself standing directly in front of the obscenely towering and absurdly sculpted man.
The only thing Kotton had left in his arsenal was a very asinine and infantile question: “S-sir," he stutterd. He couldn't help it. He just couldn't. But he didn't tuck tail and run. No, he finished what he had to say. "M-may I use your private restroom?”
One, two, three- the tick of the time went by. The young man's heart palpitated hard against his chest until finally, finally there was reprieve. He was issued a reply and it was in the form of laughter. The man laughed! It was a deep and jovial laugh and it was also contagious. Kotton started chuckling himself even if he couldn’t fully hear the man's laughter in the first place.
“Son, you crack me up,” he said, pounding a heavy hand against Kotton’s backside. “But I’m going to have to decline. My faculties aren’t working at the moment. I’m only out here trying to find someplace to take a shit myself.”
If additional laughter wasn't expected, then that was utterly stupid, because laughter, oh did it ensue. In fact, there was an uproar of chortles and sniggers, belly laughs and guffaws that Kotton couldn’t even dream of experiencing in any other situation, even in one where he could hear! He, himself, had to fight to cease his unappealing snorts and chuckles all so he could look back at the once intimidating man and give him a genuine and heartfelt apology. And he meant it. He was sorry for having judged him based solely on his appearance.
“Understandable,” was all the burly man said before offering Kotton a high five and quickly walking away, no doubt with the urgency that came with the need to expel his bowels.
This was definitely something for the books, Kotton thought, and it more than principally helped untrouble his fears.
Standing against a very random, innocuous brick corner on a very arbitrary and nonspecific street was a young man, feet crossed at the ankles, arms entangled and gently resting against his chest, chin up with eyes peering over the edge of his nose. This particular young man may have appeared to be confident but that was very much not the case. He was doubtful, sheepish, discomfited and in the throes of trying to hype himself up to do an activity he wouldn’t normally do- an activity he really didn't want to do. But amidst all that, he was still hopeful and he was willing. Willing to perform this awkward activity that was way beyond his limits of comfortability. And that was more encouragement than anyone needed to just... do it.
Kotton wanted to build up his charisma. He didn’t want to be afraid or easily embarrassed when speaking to people. This was the extreme opposite of who he was as a person- always timid, antisocial, discrete and non-conversational unless absolutely essential, but that's what made the potential for progress all the more available. He saw those traits of his as traits that hadn't benefited him in a long time. He saw those traits of his as traits he no longer wanted to possess. He wanted to become more ambivalent, more outgoing, and interesting and approachable. So as his therapist had suggested, he needed to gradually tip toe out of what was soft and hospitable to him, and instead dredge up the fear and unsettling so as to face what he viewed a fear. He was tired of being prey to something that didn’t think (he didn't want to be prey to anything, but let's start at ground zero). He no longer wanted to be controlled by an emotion that had no right in justifying how he lived his life. Anxiety begone!
The young man who stood against the brick wall with legs and arms crossed against themselves, adjusted his body to display a more open presentation of himself. Then he waltzed up to the nearest person. He bit his tongue and tried to resist all thoughts that screamed for him to stop. He opened his mouth, competing with the force that demanded that he keep his mouth closed, and said, “Can you lend me one-hundwed coins?”
The stranger he had approached looked at him questionably. He was clearly taken-aback, for this was not what he had anticipated during his journey to do whatever it was he meant to do. He brushed his russet brown hair behind his enormous ears and made to move the dark glasses that shielded his eyes. The raised eyebrows and look of confusion was much easier to see now that his face could be seen.
“No?” he asked rather than answered. Kotton couldn't believe how much more raised someone's eyebrows could be until he had been given this stranger's reply.
Kotton’s immediate response was to shut down, back off, step to the side, and shroud his understandably coy expression. But his therapist's words kept echoing inside his head. ‘If you want to be someone different- if you want to be a better version of yourself- then you must step outside your comfort zone’. So, against every fibre of his being, Kotton resisted the urge to cower.
“Awe you suwe? It would make the wowld to me.” Whilst under this persona of confidence, still being controlled by this facade of outlandish self-assurance, he still adhered to his values of being truthful; he dare not lie. Which is why he wouldn’t say he ‘needed it’ nor would he invite the possibility of manipulating such an unaware soul by declaring it was ‘essential to his survival’.
The man narrowed his eyes and adjusted his glasses so they were once again concealing his gaze. “I said no,” he confirmed before taking lengthly strides away from Kotton.
The young man felt equal parts wracked with nerves and bolstered with the confidence of adrenaline. He didn’t know whether he wanted to continue with his experiment or fold his deck early. A deep breath was the only thing that kept him focused on what he needed to do next. And that was to continue. This was all to help him best his social anxiety. His therapist had explained to him that this method was to experience rejection and desensitize himself to being rejected; it was a form of exposure therapy meant to assuage the fears that came with various fears such as awkwardness and social exhaustion. And since Kotton was paying to listen to such an experienced professional, he wasn’t about to dismiss any of her ideas, especially if it could indeed help him become a better person.
As antisocial and inherently nervous as he was, he had to spend longer than he hoped recollecting his emotions after this first encounter. But that was all a part of the game. He was still learning (or unlearning depending on how you viewed it) but was still very much in line with the rules. The rules had been outlined for him during his last counselling session. They stated that a rejection only counts if you are out of your comfort zone. A rejection should also only count if your request is denied. And at the time of rejection, the player, which was himself, should be left in a position of vulnerability. And boy, did he feel sensitive and vulnerable to the reaction and response he had received from the man he had asked a hundred coins from. The fact that negative feelings were seen as positive progress were beyond his comprehension, but nonetheless helpful in his journey to becoming more self-confident.
Once he had the next set of ridiculous questions fastened within his mind, Kotton approached the most easily accessible individual. She was a middle aged woman who held an infant high up on her hip. He could only fathom the amount of deep breaths that could have prepared him for this interaction, but the very state of being unprepared and caught off guard were all essential parts of the game.
He strolled up to her with only mild hesitation. He was becoming rather good at hiding his fear by this point. He then inquired, “can I babysit your child for a while?” He administered the most sincere smile he could manage, his face still so stern with anxiety. All he could hope for was to not be slapped in the face in lieu of such a bizarre request. As an overthinker, Kotton was always looking into the future. He was always conjuring scenarios that may or may not happen. His intuition walked on a tightrope so thin that the border into anxiety and unrealism was almost nonexistent. But this forward thinking, whilst usually a hindrance to his being mentally stable, was also a superpower, because he was always able to expect the worst when worse came to wear. Futuristic planning gave him an edge that many people didn’t have.
Blessed be him, he received no palm across his cheek. He did however receive a sour expression- a scrunched up face that could realistically be compared to an inbred dog, a pug more specifically. The least of his worries dissipated as she simply strutted away, child still upon her hip if not having been brought closer to her chest with the need of further protection.
After his second experience stepping outside the realm of what what was comfortable to him, the young man realised that this entire experiment wasn’t as challenging as he had first thought it would be. Perhaps assuming something before it happened was a waste of time and emotion. Someone need not fret about hypotheticals before actuality occurred, because this led to undue anxiety. He needn't refer to a scientific article or speak to a scientist to acknowledge this fact. This came straight from personal experience. And after recalling several incidents as a medic, Kotton found this to be true. He had been in several situations where he had assumed the worst, used valuable energy fretting about something that would never be. It was a waste of time and energy. He would certainly note this in his journal when he was able, even if he would never look at it because anxiety was not something that allowed anyone the time to review or reflect or reconnect with anything, notes, facts, observations and all.
Before Kotton went about wandering to the next person, he took some time to reflect on everything he had just witnessed. Emotional tolerance training, as his therapist had explained, was a developmental behaviour therapy counsellors often used to help their patients overcome fears or other issues that may prohibit them from going about their days like any other person would. He was trying to regulate his emotions and the thoughts that corresponded because of them. Thus far, he felt like he had made substantial progress. Would Cyndica be proud of him? Would she have any additional suggestions for how he could improve?
A few minutes went by, thereby marking the end of his reflection time, or so Kotton had decided. He wanted to continue with his experiment of rejection exposure so he went about finding another individual to pursue. They just so happened to be wandering down the streets of downtown Scalvoris. He held back as much opinion as he could, but couldn’t help but feel absolutely frightened by the individual he had aimlessly picked to converse with.
Large, muscular, and at least 183 centimetres, this individual had the build of an ox with hair of equal match to his physical size- six or more centimetres of mo-hawk, that was. If this guy was in the running for most intimidating man alive, he would most definitely appear in the top ten, if not being the one to take first prize.
This was the ultimate boss for the antisocial and uncomfortable and very much awkward young man. This was the last test to showcase just how confident he could make himself be. This was the last level of his journey to display just how disciplined he could make himself without wetting his pants and running home to find another. Clothing was expensive nowadays, afterall.
A singular inhale was not enough to prepare him for this interaction, no. He had to heave and I mean heave to find enough gusto to force himself to walk even a singular step in that man’s direction. But he did. Kotton threw out all doubts, all worries, every instinct that shrieked at him with the sweet desire to retreat. But he was in no actual danger because if he was, logic would be ever present, instructing him as to the reinstated laws, and repercussions against those who went against said laws, be it assault, or battery, or conspiracy to threaten. He didn't know what the laws were, but what he had just mentioned sounded legitimate enough. He could always make a case against someone who had done him wrong. That was, if he was still alive and breathing to attest the case. But there he was overthinking and determining the outcomes of worse case scenarios. Super power, right?
One foot in front of the other, Kotton finally found himself standing directly in front of the obscenely towering and absurdly sculpted man.
The only thing Kotton had left in his arsenal was a very asinine and infantile question: “S-sir," he stutterd. He couldn't help it. He just couldn't. But he didn't tuck tail and run. No, he finished what he had to say. "M-may I use your private restroom?”
One, two, three- the tick of the time went by. The young man's heart palpitated hard against his chest until finally, finally there was reprieve. He was issued a reply and it was in the form of laughter. The man laughed! It was a deep and jovial laugh and it was also contagious. Kotton started chuckling himself even if he couldn’t fully hear the man's laughter in the first place.
“Son, you crack me up,” he said, pounding a heavy hand against Kotton’s backside. “But I’m going to have to decline. My faculties aren’t working at the moment. I’m only out here trying to find someplace to take a shit myself.”
If additional laughter wasn't expected, then that was utterly stupid, because laughter, oh did it ensue. In fact, there was an uproar of chortles and sniggers, belly laughs and guffaws that Kotton couldn’t even dream of experiencing in any other situation, even in one where he could hear! He, himself, had to fight to cease his unappealing snorts and chuckles all so he could look back at the once intimidating man and give him a genuine and heartfelt apology. And he meant it. He was sorry for having judged him based solely on his appearance.
“Understandable,” was all the burly man said before offering Kotton a high five and quickly walking away, no doubt with the urgency that came with the need to expel his bowels.
This was definitely something for the books, Kotton thought, and it more than principally helped untrouble his fears.