Nauseous, weak-in-the-knees, and deprived of sleep, I clambered into my Xterra with a soda in-hand, and shakily shoved the keys into the ignition and turned it. The engine roared to life, and I immediately rolled down the windows and turned the AC up full-blast, hoping I’d get cold enough for my body to ignore the anxiety and instead focus on avoiding hypothermia.
In my mind, I kept telling myself over and over again, “You got this. You know your shit. You can do this presentation all on your own if you have to, but you’ll have at least one other groupmate by your side. You can do this. You can do this…”
I didn’t drive to campus blasting loud redneck music that cool, Monday afternoon. Instead, I drove in silence, the wind roaring through the open windows and my mind coming up with solutions to every “what if” I had pertaining to my college group presentation. Even if I did decide to wreck my eardrums with some good shit from Clutch or Hillbilly Hellcats, it wouldn’t have been enough to shut down my anxious mind. I just had to grin and bear it. And, freak out later.
The drive to campus was much shorter than I wanted it to be, even though I took a longer route that day. I spent another ten minutes or so aimlessly circling the parking lot like a shark, just to stall a little bit more and give myself a little more time to rein in my absolute terror. After all, there’s nothing I fear more than standing up in front of a bunch of people while being graded for it! Especially in college.
Finally, I found a parking spot as far from the college building as possible, hung my parking pass onto the rear-view mirror, and just barely had the strength to hold myself up on shaking knees as I stepped out of the truck. I heaved my backpack over my shoulder, locked the Xterra, and began dragging my feet towards campus. Taking my therapist’s advice, I tuned into my immediate surroundings as much as possible. If I could just live in the moment for two minutes, then my anxiety about the looming presentation on ancient Mayan astronomy would greatly diminish.
A strong cold front was on its way, bringing with it a swift breeze and cooler temperatures. It was still a little warm for my liking, but I knew that would change soon. Golden leaves bounced across the asphalt with the gusts, and crunched under my dragging boots as I trudged closer to the college fortress. Wispy clouds drifted eastward high above me in the deep blue sky. To the west, thick grey clouds hovered over the mountains. Soon, they’d blanket the clear skies above me. There was a decent chance I’d be driving home in the rain.
Doing my best to hide my fear, I slipped my KN95 mask over my face and reached for the door to the college. By now, I was surrounded by busy students, some gathered in groups socializing, others practically sprinting to-and-fro. Inside the building, I plodded up three huge flights of stairs I’d usually sprint up. Waves of nausea rolled over me, but I managed to shake them for the most part.
But, my body immediately changed the second I stepped into my classroom. All of my nausea and fear and shakiness dove in deep under the surface, and I put up a bubbly, ready-to-go facade. The professor and several students warmly greeted me as I took a seat at the table where two of my three group mates were seated. I could sense that they were just as stressed as I was. I could see it in their eyes. But, they seemed to relax when I sat down across from them and nodded in their direction. Looking back, I realize they saw no fear in my eyes. Nobody even suspected I was the most terrified student in the room, and spent the whole night before on the verge of vomiting and shaking so hard I couldn’t even read a book.
Nobody.
Class began when the professor closed the door and introduced the day to us. Almost everyone was accounted for. Except for one student. I glanced over at the empty seat next to me; the seat belonging to our fourth group mate. I then made eye contact with my two present group mates, and we all pulled out our phones and began to text our fourth guy to see where he was. We got no responses.
Twenty minutes passed, and the first group of presenters stepped up to the front of the class. Their presentation on ancient Indian astronomy was flawless. The next group was just as perfect as the first group. After them, it was our turn. Forty minutes into the class, our group mate was still missing and hadn’t replied to any of our texts.
“Uhhhh… Professor?” I began as I stood up with my laptop, “One of our guy’s missing. What shou-”
“Just do your best to cover for him.” she interrupted me, “I’ll email him and have him send me a recording of him doing his part. If you have to skip his slides, that’s okay. But, I think you guys should at least read his bullet-points.”
The three of us nodded and stepped up to the front of the classroom. I set my laptop down on the side table up by the projector screen and found the cable to connect my laptop to the overhead projector. As soon as I inserted the cable into my laptop, the projector screen flickered and displayed a bright, blue screen. The dreaded Blue Screen of Death.
“Oh, no, no, no, no!” I silently screamed to myself as I stared, wide-eyed at the class. All I could do to maintain what little courage I had left was laugh, shrugging my shoulders, playing it off as some sort of joke. Thankfully, the professor was quick to get up and tap the base of the projector till it displayed the slides I had on my laptop. Crisis averted.
Because my slides were first, we were using my laptop to present to the class, and our missing partner’s slides were immediately after mine, I had to talk for the next six minutes while trying my damn best to come off as charismatic and chill as possible. Based on how everyone else was reacting, I was doing something right. Everyone was engaged with what I was saying, and giggled at my occasional self-deprecating joke about the technical difficulties we’d endured just moments earlier. I had no script, yet I somehow knew what to say and how to say it. But, those were the longest six minutes of my life, that I somehow survived. Even better, I was sick as a dog and on the verge of puking, but somehow managed to suppress all of that completely, maintaining an excited tone of voice.
My other two group mates presented their parts as well as they could. But, they were clearly shaking and having a hard time getting through their material. In fact, every now and then, they’d glance up at me, looking for guidance. All I could do was give a slight nod, which seemed to encourage them to keep going. Four minutes later, it was over. And, the three of us walked back to our seats while the class clapped and showered us with praise.
As the fourth group presented, my group mates leaned in towards me and thanked me for “being the chill one”, and “saving our asses and our grades”. On the surface, I took the compliments and replied, “anytime!”. But, just below that fake, confident facade, I felt sicker than ever and wanted so badly to leave. Also, how the fuck did I manage to stay so calm despite the mishaps and my terror of the presentation alone? And, how was I the calm, collected, confident one?! Why was I suddenly the de-facto leader? How the hell did that all go so right?
I still don’t have any answers to those questions. Though, I’m pretty sure my life experiences have a lot to do with my ability to stay calm, collected, and logical on the surface when a situation calls for it. I mean, it wasn't like I had all of the time in the world to decide between dying a horrible death by Pseudomonas or spraying phage viruses up my nose (and possibly still dying an even more horrible death). And, don't even get me started on Denver drivers (or the Ken Caryl wildlife)!
Yet, out of all the times I've faced death and survived only because I made the right decision in record time, I've never been more terrified than I was leading the group presentation on Mayan Astronomy on that Monday afternoon (even though the risk of dying during that presentation was zero). I don't fear death. But, I am so damn terrified of people, especially when I have to stand up in front of them to give a graded presentation with a missing group member and a projector that almost self-destructed when I (and only I) plugged in my laptop.
After spending another excruciating hour in class, hiding and ignoring my growing nausea and illness, the professor finally gave us permission to leave. I'm pretty sure I left behind a cloud of dust all the way from class to my Xterra. Once at the truck, I tossed my backpack in the backseat, hopped into the front seat, and peeled out of the parking lot. I could feel the saliva building up in my mouth as I merged onto the highway, along with my heartrate rapidly increasing, and my eyes welling up with tears.
Despite having survived my presentation, I was extremely sick afterwards. I ended up having to pull over halfway home to vomit in a field. Once home, I bolted into the bathroom and locked myself in there until I felt a little better, an hour or so later. But, that horrible post-presentation anxiety, no matter how well-hidden I kept it, stayed with me for the rest of the night and well into the next day.
I also couldn't help but be hard on myself (which, I know is bad, but I do it anyway because anxiety, I guess), and wondering if I'd made enough eye contact with the class, made enough sense while speaking, made the right hand gestures and facial expressions and used the right tone of voice, so on and so on. I was also pretty upset at myself for being so scared of a thing that couldn't possibly harm me in any physical way. Why was I so scared of doing a simple group presentation to a classroom full of students that all had to do the same thing? What was it with public speaking that scared me more than death itself?
Honestly, I still can't answer either of those questions. Largely because that fear of mine, while very real and physically exhausting, is irrational. Logic can't explain why I am so scared of presenting in front of a room full of peers. I just am, and I'm just gonna have to accept it.
