Face Your Fears (By Force If Necessary)

Fear is not a bad thing. It helps keep our species alive. Fear of pain reminds you not to stick your hand on that hot stove or stick something metal into an electrical socket. But some fear prevents you from going about your daily life. You fear rejection so you don't pursue that relationship or try for that promotion. The number one fear in most "civilized" countries is not a fear of death, but a fear of public speaking. More than a quarter of Americans would rather face dying than speak in front of a crowd. Up until a few years ago, I was one of them. Now, I talk for a living.

In high school, I passed speech without ever saying a word in front of the class. We had only done group projects, and I always made the power point and conducted that during a presentation instead of speaking. I slipped through the cracks in every class every year never needing to say a word at the dreaded front of the room. I was perfectly fine with that arrangement, but it came crashing down when class rankings were announced. I am not joking when I say that I honestly considered failing a class or two so I could get out of making a speech at graduation. I wish I could say I truly faced my fears then, in a great coming of age story. No, I hid behind the podium, read straight from a prepared document and delivered the shortest valedictorian speech in the history of my high school, roughly 150 words in all. Any longer, and I would have been crying.

In college, I passed a few years similar to how I spent high school. I dealt with my problem with public speaking by avoiding it altogether. I even pushed back whole classes that involved speaking semester after semester. At the end of my first semester of my senior year in college, my greatest fear had come to fruition. It wasn't just one speech or even two speeches. I had to give four presentations in four different classes, two solo and two group, back to back, and all before lunch time.

I was an absolute nervous wreck that morning. I knew better than to eat anything for breakfast. The first speech was going to be the worst. Eight minutes long as a minimum, all on my own and to make matters worse: we would be taped! I was the last of five scheduled to speak that day. I sweated through the four speeches before mine all dressed up and trying to seem ready even if I was anything but. Finally, it was my turn.

I strode to the front of the room, planted myself behind the podium, and started my presentation. Within even the first minute, I thought I was going to pass out. The blood was pounding in my ears so hard I could not hear myself except for a few snippets of shaky, thready voice. My eyes teared up, and my vision was blurry. I felt so flushed I was sure everyone could see. The next seven minutes felt like hours, but finally, I was done. The class clapped, but I was sure it was just because they felt sorry for me. The teacher handed me the recording of my speech so I could conduct a self-evaluation. I did not have the voice to thank her so I simply nodded and the left class to head to presentation two.

I never had time to recover from the first presentation. Within twenty minutes from the end of the first one, I was in front of over two hundred students and faculty with my group presenting the next. Although I was not speaking the whole time, I was in front of that crowd for over fifteen minutes. Complete with sweaty palms, pounding heart, the whole nine yards, just like the first go round. I was so happy to go back to my seat when it was over. The rest of my group was excited and happy. I was a shivering mess. I honestly don't remember the rest of that class or the walk to the next. I do remember getting there a few minutes early, and all I could think about was my third presentation, the second solo one. I threw up in the bathroom, sobbed for a good minute, and pulled myself together for round three.

I don't remember the other students' talks. I do remember my name being called and dragging myself up to yet another podium at the front of yet another lecture hall. I had a terrible taste in my mouth as I spoke. The blood was pounding again, and this time, I was even seeing spots. Somewhere during the six minutes of that third speech, something broke inside of me. I had reached the pinnacle of fear, so afraid I couldn't feel anything anymore. I was numb. The spots receded, the pounding stopped, and there was a blessed calm during the last part of that presentation.

That calm carried me through the rest of that class and into the fourth and final presentation. That calm has carried me through every public speaking engagement over the last six years. I am not sure exactly what happened that day, but my best guess is that I'd been so afraid and nervous that I forgot to be afraid and nervous. It also helped that the tape I'd dreaded watching from that very first speech ended up being a gift. All those fear responses that I was sure everyone could see, the flushed face, the thin and reedy voice, the scared and darting eyes, not a single one was shown on video.