I SAT IN HIGH SCHOOL French class, listening to the incomprehensible words spoken by the teacher. My own thoughts were easier to understand: Katie. She sat directly in front of me. Every day I thought to talk to her; every bus ride home I chided myself for not doing so. The cycle repeated for most of my freshman year—and then far beyond.

That was 25 years ago, and I chalked it up to adolescent nerves. Only recently did I learn that being racked with self-doubt and frozen with fear isn’t a character flaw. And it didn’t have to be this way.

THE DESCENT