Finally, there was a name for what I had been experiencing. However, I was disappointed that none of the many systems I had passed through had recognized it. My parents and siblings believed I was simply shy and quiet, traits that were even celebrated in primary school. I remember one teacher saying, “Mamba mwenye kimya ndiye mla nyama.” Loosely translated, the silent crocodile is the one that catches prey. Perhaps she meant it only in the context of study hours, but I may have subconsciously absorbed it as a rule of life.

In high school, we had a guidance and counselling office, but it had a reputation as a place for students with disciplinary problems. Seeking help was never encouraged. The campus situation was different. My class had nearly two hundred students, and in such a crowd, it was almost impossible for a lecturer to notice who might be struggling with special needs. Later, in the workplace, colleagues described me as quiet, and even though the teams were often small in size, none of the supervisors picked up on the anxiety issue.

I often wondered how different life might have been if I had known sooner. I thought about the opportunities I had missed, like participating in sports, forming friendships, and getting promoted. Beyond my own story, I thought about the many adults whose quality of life is diminished without knowing why, the teenagers whose academic and social lives are affected, the parents and teachers who cannot recognize the early signs of social anxiety disorder, the supervisors and HR professionals who do not know how to support employees with SAD, and the friends who confuse it with shyness or introversion.

In that moment, I resolved to turn my pain into purpose (Nia). I began sharing pieces of my life through my blog, hoping to create awareness and prevent others from experiencing the same struggles.