My boyfriend told me I have selfish anxiety. What a relief.

I accomplished something today that I feel I wouldn’t have been able to accomplish a year ago … at least not without losing significant sleep, shedding tears and potentially having an anxiety attack.

I spoke as an “expert” panelist for a Public Relations Society of America program. I put expert in quotation marks because I have major imposter syndrome. There were only about 20 people in the room, but this is a big deal for a few reasons.

I don’t know when I started experiencing anxiety or why. I have tried to trace back my memories as far as they can go, but I have trouble distinguishing the difference between shyness and anxiety.

I was always a timid kid, but I was still fiercely competitive. I wanted to be the best at everything I did, but I wanted to do it in a quiet way. As an adult, I can look back on a few childhood memories and think “Hmm … maybe that’s not how ‘normal’ children think or behave.”

After the first week of kindergarten, a student from each class was named a “A Real Raider.” I have no idea what I did to earn this achievement, but Mrs. Chrissinger picked me! At the time, I didn’t even know this award existed, but once I earned it, I thought to myself, “I have never wanted anything more.” A monster was born.

Move onto first grade, I remember being highly upset (inwardly only, of course) when I wasn’t the first “student of the week” – which wasn’t even picked by merit, but randomly.

In second grade, I was quietly furious (but outwardly a good sport) when Sarah Yoder beat me for the first time at “Around the World” and got to drink a pop in class.

In third grade, Matt McKirahan earned more “Cow Cash” than I did, and therefore, had more money to spend during the year-end classroom auction. I reflected in shame on the ONE time a "dollar" was taken from me for talking during reading time.

Fourth grade was the kicker. I knew the “Citizenship Award” was up for grabs during graduation, and I would have sacrificed a limb to get it. I thought that having perfect attendance would help “build my resume,” but then one morning, my dad and I got in a car wreck on the way to school. My head hit the dash. Ambulances were called. As they attempted to put me on a stretcher, I remember kicking and screaming, “You don’t understand. I HAVE to get to school. I cannot be tardy!” In the back of my bloody head, all I was concerned about was losing my lifelong dream of that damn Citizenship Award.

So, needless to say, I was not a normal kid.

While my need to achieve absolute perfection dissipated a TAD as I aged, my anxiety heightened. Even as a quiet, abnormal kid … I was popular. Making friends came natural to me. I got good grades and exceled in athletics.

My first tangible moment of anxiety (rather than shyness) I can trace came in college. It was incredibly minor, but I remember having to carpool to an event with the assistant volleyball coach. Just me and him. Everyone (including myself) knew he was incredibly friendly, but I remember the sheer DREAD I felt for days leading up to it. “What if we have nothing to talk about? What if he thinks I am awkward? Should I make mental talking points? Should I hide notecards in my bag in case I forget my conversation starters?

This anxiety continued to worsen the older I got, and after my divorce, not only was I anxious, but I was depressed, isolated, and felt worthless.

Anxiety, depression, hopelessness, isolation and no sense of self-worth does not bode well for anyone, especially for someone in my professional industry, where I am expected to be “on” most of the time (often in front of cameras) … and so, my job became my own personal nightmare. I eventually became unable to perform my regular duties.

After a VERY long tangent ... quite possibly my longest one yet … here is what I accomplished today:

I managed my anxiety.

My anxiety was VERY much present, but I managed the shit of it. This didn’t happen by luck or happenstance; I was very strategic and implemented many tools that I have learned over the course of two years. My therapist has provided me some of these tools, but I have also discovered some all on my own (such as playing 'Spelling Bee' when I need to distract my brain). Today, however, Brad played a primary role in the management of my anxiety.

A year ago, about a month after we met, he told me something I will NEVER forget.

We were sitting on my couch, preparing to go to a wedding later that evening, where I would be meeting his ENTIRE family for the first time, and I was freaking the hell out.

Brad said, “This is going to sound mean, but hear me out … You have selfish anxiety.”

Naturally, that did not sit well with me, and it felt like a rude thing to say, so I started tearing up.

He continued, “Tonight is about T.J. and Danee, the bride and groom. Nobody is going to be thinking about you.”

And he was right. There were 300 people in the room that night, and not one of them cared how I was dressed, or if I was good at small talk, or if I was cutting my meat properly. Most people are too wrapped up in their own lives to worry about whether Lauren Stahl was awkward that one time on May 23 at 9:34 a.m.

So, as my mind desperately wanted to be anxious as I fell asleep last night, I told myself, “Not a single person on the planet is thinking about tomorrow’s PRSA panel. And not a single person will think about it the second they leave the event.” I just kept repeating, "Nobody cares" over and over and over until I finally believed it. It worked!

The panel went so-so. I could have done better, I could have done worse. I accidentally said "badass" and immediately regretted it.

A year ago, I would have left the panel and cried in my car. I would have spent every remaining second of my day wishing I would have answered ‘X’ differently. But what would be the point? Nobody else is thinking about it, so why should I? And even if I did let it consume me, I can't change what already happened.

Anxious thoughts try to creep their way into my brain more often than not, but I use my tools to combat them. They creep in. I push them out. They try to creep in again. I push them back out. Sometimes, it feels like my brain is in an active civil war.

Sometimes, the anxious thoughts win, but sometimes, they don't. And just like practicing a sport or playing an instrument … the more I practice combating the anxious thoughts, the easier it becomes, and the more often I win.

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I don’t think I did a great job explaining my revelation of “selfish anxiety,” so here is an excerpt from Deb Knobelman, PhD:

When I am worried that someone thinks I’m too intense or that I’m not doing a good job at a presentation at work … Who is actually thinking that? Me. I’m thinking about myself and believing those thoughts. But are other people judging me in the same way?

The biggest truth is that we have no idea what other people are thinking, and we never will.

But the most likely scenario is that the people around me are wondering what I think about them. Or something else related to themselves. And I’m the only one thinking all those negative thoughts about myself. Because I’m only a blip on the radar of the thoughts of anyone else.

There is absolute freedom in realizing that nobody is thinking about you.

When you realize that most people’s thoughts are about themselves, when you actually internalize this concept, the freedom is incredible. It means, I can do my work presentation and believe whatever I want about how I did. It means, I can wear whatever I want and accept that I like the outfit.

The possibilities are endless.

This shift might not happen overnight. And it won’t exist all the time. Nothing is perfect, absolute, or black and white.

But the next time you find yourself feeling completely judged, the next time you are overcome with the belief that other people are thinking mean, terrible, horrible thoughts about you … Remember, you have no idea what they’re actually thinking. But it’s unlikely to be about you. And more likely to be about themselves.

So, you’re free to think anything you want, good or bad. And remove the inner monologue from your mind and return to the present moment.

What a relief.