“One of the most common phobias is public speaking, which is really just a distant echo, a reflection of the Universal Phobia. We fear getting in front of large groups and taking an action that might result in making us a target for their aggression. Again, this is not rational. It is an irrational fear—a phobia.” – Lt. Col. Dave Grossman
I often tell the story of how when I was in high school I would not get up in front of my classmates to give an oral report. I would take an “E” and fail that assignment before I would open myself up to what I perceived as the judgmental gazes of teachers and classmates, dissecting my perceptions, creativity or interpretations of the assignments. Now I am able to tell this story to groups of people that my job requires me to make presentations to, people who are strangers, friends and others who want to see me make a fool of myself (my perception). So I have somewhat been able to overcome the mostly debilitating fear of talking in front of people.
However, I always suspected that there was something terribly, inherently wrong with me, a defect, a character flaw, a weakness. And I thought that way for a very long time and only recently began to look at it differently and to work very hard to try to overcome my fears.
For most of my adult life, I was able to hide behind my job and lifestyle. You did not have to speak to groups of people when you run a printing press or sit behind a computer monitor as a graphic artist. I was able to control my interactions to very small groups and one-on-one confrontations and always without me being the center of attention. A listener. A minor role-player. A participant and never, never a leader.
I tried to tackle my fears in my late 20’s when I was a lay reader for the church I attended at that time of my life, but I still remember the scary out-of-body feeling (and not the Holy Ghost kind) that standing before and reading to a congregation felt like. Alone and vulnerable come to mind as how I would describe my state of being. I quickly abandoned that effort and reverted to the comfort of quiet obscurity, existing in the shadows of church life.
Things change however, and I was eventually kicked from the nest so to speak, and told my duties would now entail speaking and presenting to programs to groups of mostly strangers. To say I went about this easily would be most incorrect. I went more like kicking and screaming (all inside my battered brain) into this new, terrifying role. I was given PowerPoint as a tool and quickly learned that it is a fabulous tool but in the wrong hands will bore people literally to the brink of death, if not the desire to commit suicide to have it (the PowerPoint that is) end. Quickly you learn that PowerPoint is a fabulous tool, but without the skills and any idea how to make it work it’s as useless as a drill without a drill bit and a plan on how to use it. A tool is nothing without the skill of a mechanic, contractor or a chef to produce a quality product. So I needed to learn my toolbox, practice and learn to relax and to believe, really believe that people wanted to hear what I had to say and develop a way to make what I said interesting and even add a bit of appropriate humor.
So though I have changed a bit, I am still basically an introvert. Presentations wear me out, but I no longer feel as if I am defective. In a book I recently read called “Quiet: The Power of the Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking” by Susan Cain, I finally came to understand myself as being OK. Not defective. Not overflowing with character flaws (though I have a few of those). Not an outcast or an anomaly. Not alone in my favored form of existence, which is solitude. I also gained insights from this book that the wife shares the introverts craving of quiet introspection as I do.
I understand more clearly, that I can be a person of strength and still be an introvert. And still matter.
More:
Susan Cain talks about introverts and extroverts,
TED TV
Book review of Quiet,
Good Reads
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