I’m reclaiming my lost childhood
Paula McGuire spent her younger years too scared to enjoy herself, but now she’s determined to make up for lost time…
For as long as I can remember, I’ve always been shy. Nervous and quiet, I found my classmates intimidating and anyone outside my immediate family terrifying. In public, I’d hide behind my mum.
Although this was acceptable, cute even, as a child, instead of growing out of it as the years passed, it got worse. By the time I went to secondary school, playground bullies taunted me about my shyness, and I retreated even further into myself.
While my older sister Donna, now 39, would go to dance classes, swimming lessons and Brownies, I’d head straight home after school, where I felt safe.
As I got older, my parents became concerned and took me to the doctor, who put me on antidepressants as a teenager. But nothing helped.
At school, I’d spend breaks in the quietest corner of the school yard, and I threw myself into studying. So much so, I finished school a year early and was accepted into a local uni in my home city of Glasgow to study accounting, aged 16.
There, I was convinced I’d make new friends. But because I was so young, I couldn’t go to the pub after lectures with everyone else. And they were older, so I had no idea how to speak to them.
Instead, after class, I’d head to the library, feeling lonelier than ever. When I eventually turned 18, everyone seemed too firmly entrenched in their friendships for me to join in.
After graduating, I got a job in a tax office. By now, my social anxiety was so high that I couldn’t face eating in front of other people, so I’d hide away at lunch. I was on and off antidepressants, and every interaction left me feeling so terrified and judged that I was a nervous wreck.
When I started working as a support worker at a deaf-blind charity in 2008, I met Gerry. I was instantly attracted to him. He was so self-assured, and seemed to know himself completely. He was too busy living life to be worried about what other people thought. He was the polar opposite of me.
But that didn’t stop him asking me to lunch. Everything in me wanted to say yes, but I was terrified. Despite that, I accepted – though I didn’t sleep for the week leading up to it!
At the restaurant, I headed to the darkest corner and
ordered a slice of toast, which I broke into pieces as Gerry chatted about anything and everything. Later, he said he thought maybe some women just preferred toast for lunch.
I couldn’t understand why, but he kept asking me out, and eventually, in January 2009, he proposed. I wanted to elope but our parents refused. So we had a simple ceremony, with no speeches or first dance.
Gerry was a sociable soul, but nothing could persuade me to leave the house. I’d spoken to psychotherapists and even tried hypnotherapy, but if his friends asked us out, I’d make him lie and say I had a family commitment. If I ever did venture out, I wouldn’t let him leave my side.
Thankfully, Gerry never judged me. He was so patient, and I could be the real me in front of him. ‘I wish everyone could see this side of you,’ he’d say wistfully.
For my 30th birthday, Gerry booked us into a hotel. Unable to face the other guests, I stayed in the room, reading.
Afterwards, I was looking through Gerry’s pictures when I came across one of me. I hated having my photo taken, but this time, I’d been too busy with my book to notice. I saw a lonely figure, exhausted by anxiety. Was this really me?
I was sad to realise it was. But now I knew something in me had to change.
So, with the Commonwealth Games coming up in Scotland, I decided to try all 17 sports.
‘ You know a lot of them involve water?’ Gerry said when I told him, reminding me of my biggest fear. I had thought about that, and decided to start with cycling – something I could face.
Gerry set up a blog for me called Paula Must Try Harder, to keep me on track. I detailed my efforts on it and, before long, people were getting in touch to help.
Soon, I was weightlifting with Olympians and playing rugby with athletes. And because no one expected anything of me, a complete beginner, the pressure was off and I actually enjoyed myself, laughing with others when I couldn’t do something and beaming when they cheered my successes.
When I blogged about a visit to the swimming pool, where I’d been too scared to get in, a lady got in touch and offered me a three-day phobia course. By the end, I could sit on the bottom of the pool.
Every day, things got a little easier. I found myself answering the phone or ordering takeaways – things I hadn’t done for years.
Before long, I was being asked to give talks in schools. And it was there, listening to children talk about their ambitions of being an astronaut or a ballet dancer, that I realised I’d spent my whole childhood worrying too much to dream. What a waste.
But now I was determined not to waste another minute. So I decided to try different jobs. Again, people were more than happy to help. I ‘joined’ the police for a few days, taught a primary school class and even worked on a farm.
From there, my life has taken off. Of course, there are days I struggle, but then I’ll look at that picture of me, alone in the hotel, and remind myself how far I’ve come.
I’ve done things I never expected – like flown a jet, a bungee jump, and written a column in my local paper. I’ve even been a life model. And if you can do that, you really can do anything!
For so long, I let anxiety be bigger than me – but not any more.