1. Ordering food. I don't consider myself a very picky eater (except for I'm allergic to most fruit and I think tuna is just one step above cat food) but you wouldn't know it from the way I order food at restaurants. I was at Cafe Rio the other day with my very specific order: pork salad with rice and beans, SHREDDED lettuce (no lettuce butts for me, no thank you), guacamole on the side (I milk this thing for two meals and if the guacamole is in the salad it turns brown and tastes weird), no pico (oh yeah, I hate tomatoes too), no cilantro (they pile it on, ok?) and two dressings (again, two meals). While these are all completely justifiable instructions, the lady looked like she was cursing my ancestors. I get anxiety from ordering food because I feel like the person making it doesn't understand me and my weird food needs.
2. Picking the music. If I'm in the car with someone and they hand me their iPod and tell me to pick something I go into the early stages of a panic attack. Do they want to have a Taylor Swift sing-along? What about a early-2000s pop-punk flashback? Do they want to listen to the whole song, or just until the bridge? Please never put me in charge of the music. My stomach is growing ulcers just thinking about it.
3. Driving with other people. I love driving by myself, but put other people in the equation and I really don't like it. I'm worried they're judging me and I'm not used to the extra weight in the car and everyone's talking and I just really can't handle it. We can take my car, fine. But you better believe that I won't be driving it.
4. Being the first in line at a stop light. Sometimes I get these moments when I'm driving where I become extremely self-aware. Like, who put me in charge of this machine? What are brakes? Where is the gas pedal? Green means go, right? Are all the cars just going to follow me like the Israelites following Moses into the Red Sea? I didn't sign up for this. Switch me places, someone.
5. "The Nut." When I was little, a sister who shall remain nameless announced that she couldn't eat the bottom of her banana because there was a nut in it. Seems legit, right? I have since taken this philosophy and applied it to pretty much everything I eat. Sandwich, carrot stick, cookie, whatever. I really can't eat the last piece. There's a nut in there, people.