1 Chapter 1

Entering a new school has always gotten the better of me since I was young. Thinking about it, this is my fourth time transferring schools since middle school and it just never gets easier. I woke up today at five starting my morning by taking a shower, changing into a clean pair of clothes, shuffling around my room before I decided that I didn't like the clothes I was wearing and. I changed once more. I needed to wear something comfortable and after some time my mom came to check on me. It's unbelievably difficult to start school halfway through the year when I was barely adjusting to my last school even though I had already been attending for a year. I sat on my bed feeling my heart pounding against my chest and my throat felt tight. I knew I was already having anxiety trying to make myself feel ready and not let this pressure get to me, but it was so difficult to focus while my chest felt so heavy.

Not until the day is over, I can return to my room to cry over this feeling I am having and just relieve the stress that I’ve put in my body. These past four years have become a struggle whenever I leave the house and I know it’s been difficult for my mother to deal with me now that I’m living with her. There were times that it would take me five days to just talk to a teacher, two weeks to try to speak with my classmates, and a month to even sit with them during lunch. The only reason it’s been so difficult now is that I can’t handle people being so close to me and it’s so difficult to explain it to people because they just don’t understand these challenges that they never went through or experienced.

During the summer, after my freshman year, I developed a disorder that the doctor called haphephobia; when I was released from the hospital almost two years ago I noticed that it had gotten worse even after treatments and my mother began to grow concerned about my behavior. I knew it got worse when my cousin reached out to hug me when I visited my relatives during winter vacation two months ago and I couldn't let him near me being left alone with him. I pushed him away from me without thinking because in my mind I was terrified and he hit his head against the wall after losing balance. Soon after I couldn't let a stranger shake hands with me and I was afraid how I would react with anyone near me in any circumstances. How is it that when I feel their skin touching my own it’ll give me this burning sensation like I’m on fire and I just can’t bear it when that feeling lingers.

I'm a sixteen-year-old teenage boy who completely hates to be touched, has social anxiety, and to top it off all I wanted to do was to live a normal life as quietly as I could while also afraid. Living this way has grown so exhausting with every single day passing that I didn't want my mom to worry about me just for today and I'm going to try to push myself more because I feel like I have to. I’ve become unfamiliar with my own body and I could just hope that someday I wouldn't have to be disgusted being by someone or with myself. Could there be a much simpler way to grasp a normal life without being triggered or find a way that would help me stop myself from these habits that I’ve created to cope through the day?

I needed a coping mechanism to help distant me when I approach something that I have a difficult time dealing with and the one I developed recently is by pinching my arm which I should stop doing because I’ll wound up bruising my arms. I also have a rubber band around my wrist, but with my mind unfocused I realized that I’ve already left a bruise on my arm and it’ll most likely show more by the end of the day. It was seven now so I finally stepped out of my room and made my way to the living room to look for my backpack wanting to make sure that I have everything that I’ll need. My mind was racing from one thought to another; from wondering how I’ll last throughout the day to how will I be able to go through all my classes without panicking. I only want to have an easy first day.

“Are you hungry?” I heard my mom ask from the kitchen.

“No,” I answered, reaching for my black backpack and opening it.

I had to double-check everything was still inside from the notebooks to the new pens my mom bought and made sure I wasn't forgetting anything else.

“Hun, you didn't eat dinner last night. You have to be hungry. Eat something small.” She said as she came to check on me.

“I'm not hungry. I'm nervous and I can’t think about anything else right now.” I said, closing my bag, and turned to her. “I've been thinking about this new school all night and since I woke up I’ve been feeling anxious.”

“You can skip school if you want to and let them know that you're sick.” She suggested.

I wish I was sick.

“Mom, that's not going to help and you know that I'll still feel like this tomorrow as well; until I go to school,” I tell her.

“I told your principal about your haphephobia. She was very understanding about it and said that she would try to make it comfortable for you as best as she could.” She said, taking a seat on the couch beside me. “Maybe this year will be good for you.”

“Don't give me this false hope, Mom. I'll just try my best today. My top goal is to step inside all my classrooms and come home to sleep… We should head out now.” I said with a sigh.

“Now? The school doesn't start for another hour.” She said as she saw me put on my shoes.

“That's a good enough time for me to enter the school and find my class,” I said, taking a deep breath and debate about putting on my jacket. “I'm trying, Mom.”

She gave me a small smile reaching out to hold my hand; she’s the only one I was comfortable enough to allow to touch me. “I know and I'm proud of you.”

We left the house after a while because my mom was trying to shove a few fruits into my bag and a homemade sandwich that she had prepared in case I was hungry. I regretted not bringing my jacket because it was still cold outside with the February winter air and in this new town that we moved to was a lot colder considering we live near the ocean by a few miles. I was calculating everything; it’s a ten-minute drive to my school, three minutes for me to step out of her car to stare up at my school, and another fifteen minutes for me to walk through the front gate. The pounding on my chest grows louder as we went through the main office for them to give me a printout of my class schedule and once we were done she turned to me knowing that this is where we part-ways.

“You're going to be okay.” She said trying to calm me and was patting down my short curly hair.

“I feel like throwing up,” I whispered as I pinched my arm again.

“You know your old therapist said to find another way to relieve your stress.” She said as she watched me and reached a hand out to stop me.

“I know. Sorry.” I said as I put my hands in my pockets. “Okay, I'm going.”

“Want me to pick you up?” She asked before I turned around.

“Can you?”

She smiled softly, “Of course. I'll be here; the same place as I parked the car.”