Real stares, small towns, work, teenagers, old bullies, the internet and the child who shouts

Everything so far assumes an ordinary public room of strangers. Some rooms aren't that, and some readers aren't in the ordinary case. Each in turn.

If people do look at you. A visible difference, a scar, a condition that shows, a wheelchair, a skin colour that's rare where you live, a body that people have opinions about. Then the shoe count will sometimes find people looking, and I'm not going to tell you it's in your head, because it isn't. What I'd say is narrower. Chapter 5 and chapter 6 still hold. A stranger who looks doesn't keep you and mostly doesn't judge the way you fear, and the looks that are unkind are a minority of looks, even when looks are common. The count is still worth doing, because the beam will still tell you the whole room and the count will tell you who. For the wider question of living with being looked at, the charity Changing Faces exists for people with a visible difference, and I'll point you there rather than pretend this book covers it.

The small town. Where the room isn't strangers, memory is real. People do know you, and will mention the haircut. But chapter 6 still applies, and so does chapter 7. They noticed and they're not thinking about it. They're thinking about themselves, and what they'll say to you is a sentence, not a verdict.

Work. People at work do notice, and do remember, and there are meetings where the point you make matters. The rule there is chapter 14. Prepare the point, not the delivery. And the shoe count in a meeting is worth doing once, because what you'll find is six people looking at the slides, the table, or their own notes, composing their own point.

Teenagers. If you're one, or you have one, the beam is at its strongest at that age and the research on the spotlight effect was mostly done on people not much older. The count works the same. If it's your child, don't tell them nobody's looking, because at school some people are. Tell them the two numbers, and let them do the count themselves.

If you learned the watching somewhere. Some people were watched, in a school corridor, by a parent, in a house where every move was commented on, and the audience is that room carried into every other one. That's real and the count won't undo it on its own. What I'd say is that the count still gives you today's room, which isn't that one, and if the old room is still loud, that's a thing to tell a GP or a therapist rather than a thing to count your way out of.

Online. The one place where the room can see and can comment, and does, at length, from a distance. The count doesn't work there because there is no room to look at. What I'd say is that the same people are watching themselves online too, and that the numbers on a post are not the numbers of people who thought about it. The earlier book You only saw the good bits covers the other side of this, comparing your life to theirs.

The child who shouts, the partner who dances. The beam can come on for someone else. Your child does something loud in the shop, your partner dances at the wedding, and the heat is in your face. Everything in the book applies, moved one seat along. The room noticed for a second, kept nothing, and has a child who shouts too.

And when it's more than a habit. The NHS lists the signs of social anxiety. Worrying about everyday activities such as meeting strangers, starting conversations, speaking on the phone, working or shopping. Avoiding or worrying a lot about social activities such as group conversations, eating with company and parties. Always worrying about doing something you think is embarrassing. Finding it difficult to do things when others are watching, and feeling as though you're being watched and judged all the time. If that's you, and it's affecting your life, the NHS says to see a GP, and that you can refer yourself to an NHS talking therapies service directly. This book can keep you company through it, and Go anyway is the companion for the invitations. Neither is the treatment.