On fear, freedom, and finally doing the scary thing alone
I’ve always been self-conscious and anxious, and as a result, I’ve always hated doing things alone. I feel like I need someone with me — a buffer, a buddy, a witness. The thought of dining solo? Sends shivers down my spine. And until recently, so did the idea of going to the movies by myself.
Until I did it.
And loved it.
Ever since I got MoviePass, I’ve been completely addicted to the movies. For less than ten bucks a month, I can see as many films as I want — and I’ve been making the most of it. Movies have always been one of my great loves, but between the absurd ticket prices and adulting (full-time job, toddler, house, opposite work schedules with Jerry), I hadn’t been going much in recent years.
Each month, I make a list of six to eight new releases I want to see. Technically, I could go to all of them… but squeezing them in between work, childcare, and responsibilities is hard enough. Add in the mental math of “Who can watch Caleb?” and “Am I asking for too much help again?” and the logistics get even messier.
Now, pile all of that on top of also trying to coordinate with someone else’s schedule? Yeah. Forget it. Sometimes I found a friend or family member to go with me. Sometimes I didn’t. And when I didn’t? I’d just skip it — even when I really wanted to go. I told myself I could just wait for the DVD, but let’s be honest: it’s just not the same.
Last week, I hit a point where I finally thought: screw it. I’m going.
It was Thursday. I’d been dying to see Every Day and just found out it was the last day it would be playing locally. I wasn’t about to miss it. So I took a few hours of comp time, left work at 1:00, and headed to the theater — alone.
I walked up to the kiosk, mumbled “Every Day,” and skipped specifying how many tickets because I felt weird. I scurried off like maybe the cashier would think I was meeting someone. (On a Thursday afternoon? Sure.) Turned out I didn’t need to hide — because I had the entire theater to myself.
It was amazing.
I picked the back row, center seat. I kicked my feet up. It was like watching a movie at home alone — only bigger, cooler, and better popcorn.
When the worker came in mid-show with their little flashlight to do a quick check, I instinctively ducked my head. They must think no one loves me, I thought. They must think I have no friends. But a moment later, I rolled my eyes at myself and went back to enjoying the movie.
And when it ended? I felt happy.
I felt free.
I walked out smiling. The movie was good — but that wasn’t even the point. The theater had played it just for me. And more importantly, I’d done this “scary” thing, and it wasn’t scary at all. It was quiet and peaceful. It was on my terms.
I told myself, right then and there, that I could do it again. Anytime I wanted. I didn’t need to wait on someone else’s schedule. I didn’t need permission or company or backup. I could go to the movies by myself — just because I wanted to.
How cool is that?
It only took me 29 years to get there.
There’s a real freedom in knowing I can do things on my own. That I’m capable. That I don’t need approval to enjoy something. I don’t have to explain myself. If the theater staff thinks I have no friends? Honestly, maybe I don’t… but who cares?
Something so simple — and yeah, kind of silly — was also liberating. Sure, I still prefer to go with someone. I love whispering commentary and sharing snacks. But there’s something particularly powerful about knowing I don’t have to.
At the end of the day, this wasn’t just about movies. It was about learning I can be independent. I can be strong. I can be still. I can do things without waiting for someone to do them with me. I can enjoy my own company. I can enjoy the silence — for the first time in my life — without fear of judgment or loneliness.
And honestly? I can’t wait to do it again.
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