Growing up, my shyness felt somewhat debilitating.

I wasn't shy around my family or close circle of friends, but the prospect of asking my classmate for a pencil or introducing myself to a stranger made me freeze like a deer in headlights. I, perhaps subconsciously, found solace in the peripheral of people's attention.

As a teenager, I attended a public school that differed vastly from the tiny private Catholic school where I spent my elementary and middle school days. There, I was a small fish in a large pond struggling to tread water with my timid personality, but I found a life raft in my iPod Touch. Instead of dealing with anxiety-producing conversations with schoolmates, I could slip my headphones on and breeze through the hallways with my soundtrack.

At the time, it felt like I cracked a life hack, but in retrospect, I used my headphones as a crutch to mitigate my fear of rejection and lack of confidence.

I live in Brooklyn, New York, and a recent outing in my neighborhood made me reckon with myself. As I prepared to run errands, I grabbed my essentials: phone, keys, wallet, and, of course, my headphones, which happened to be dead. I was mildly disappointed, but I wasn't about to let uncharged headphones restructure my entire day. However, walking a few miles across Brooklyn in silence seemed wholly unpleasant.

At first, I felt oddly exposed and a bit unsure of myself, but as I trudged through the sticky summer heat, I realized I wasn't walking in silence at all.

There was noise everywhere, from the cars blaring music, zooming through the intersections, to the people chatting outside the bodega — who offered a quick smile and greeting as I walked past. It was the first of many acknowledgments I received while running errands, which typically doesn't happen when I'm out and about, tucked away underneath my headphones.

Suddenly, I was having small conversations with shop owners and sharing quick jokes with people on the street. By the time I got home, I felt accomplished.

After that, I challenged myself to leave the headphones at home and engage with the world.

Now, I won't lie and say I quit cold turkey. There are times when I'll leave the house in my music bubble, but I've also made a concerted effort to be present. Being present allowed me to forge small relationships with people in my community and slow down. It's made me appreciate where I'm at.

It's also helped me practice my social skills, a muscle that needs flexing like any other. Ultimately, it's one of many steps to become open, vulnerable, and sure of myself as I navigate my 20-somethings.

QOSHE - I stopped wearing headphones when I leave my house to challenge my social awkwardness. Now, I feel more present and confident. - Lauren Edmonds

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