Next week, I’d like everyone to give a presentation…
Cue the panic, the sweaty palms and the knotted stomach. The rush of anxiety called forth by that single word – presentation. It was always too overwhelming to process anything else that was said afterward. In an instant, my week would be plagued with thoughts solely related to the presentation that I was going to have to give and inevitably, of course, fail. The only questions that raged through my mind were related to how terrible the embarrassment would be that time around. How long until I would completely forget everything that I had prepared to say? How many awkward pauses would I endure?
While my fear of public speaking is nowhere near unique among the general population, my introverted personality led to heightened anxiety. After a lifetime of being told to “speak up” and to “not be so quiet”, public speaking was entrenched in my brain as something that was not done successfully by people with my personality type. Effortlessly executing a presentation seemed like something that was firmly reserved for my more outgoing classmates – and I was perfectly content with giving them the floor.
Of course, this didn’t stop the nagging from my parents and well-meaning friends that public speaking was going to be something that I needed to do regardless of the career path that I chose. Personally, this presented itself as a challenge that I was ready and more than willing to take on.
Yet in the midst of my defiance, I noticed a flyer advertising my school’s forensics public speaking team. Perhaps it was their nagging or my own stubbornness to prove that I could give a speech if need be – it was, obviously, only my disinterest holding me back, not my crippling anxiety – but I decided to go to a meeting. One meeting, I told myself, and then I could put their insistence to rest.
The advisor for my forensics team requested that I meet with her before to “assess my skills” (cue the first pangs of regret). With my eyes already on the door, I did everything I could to finish my first presentation as quickly as possible. I doubt that I was even through my introduction before my advisor realized just how much help I was going to need. As I listened to her input of slowing down and maintaining eye contact, all I could think was: there is no way that I am EVER going to be able to pull any of this off.
My advisor, however, evidently felt different. For an excruciatingly long hour and a half, she mercilessly had me present my speech over and over – each time instructing me to add more pauses, slow down or change my voice inflections or hand movements. While at points the process almost brought me to tears, it was not just relief that I felt upon finally leaving the room. For the first time, I found myself believing: I can actually do this.
For the next four months, one of the most dreaded yet rewarding parts of my week was my forensics practice. As my skill set and confidence increased, so did my scores at competitions. Gradually, the prospect of upcoming meets no longer sent my stomach into flip-flops and spirals. Instead, I (gasp!) began to look forward to standing in front of the room and commanding the audience’s attention. My effort was ultimately rewarded with a silver medal in the 2018 state competition. A year later, I won gold with a perfect score.
When I reflect back on my first forensic practice (let alone my school presentations prior to joining the team), I view these experiences as evidence of how far I have come. Today, I look forward to opportunities to turn my written works into compelling and persuasive speeches. In an unlikely twist of events, my introverted self now finds public speaking exciting. The inner-self dialogue that dismissed any career or opportunity that required public speaking as somehow “not meant for people like me” has been replaced with the perspective that I’m just as capable as anyone else in the room.
The impact of this unexpected hobby hasn’t been limited to improving my public speaking skills. Whenever I hesitate to throw myself into experiences that I feel not quite qualified enough for, I draw on my involvement with the forensics team to remember how far uncomfortableness can take me. As a college student, this has proven especially useful as I’ve sought out student organizations that I likely would have shied away from – leading to friendships and networking opportunities that I otherwise wouldn’t have been able to take part in.
So, that thing you said you’d never, ever do? That you weren’t smart enough or athletic enough or qualified enough for? Go for it. Join that club, book that plane ticket, apply for that internship. You’ll likely be surprised with the capabilities you find within yourself.