I thought I’d prepared well. I knew my material. The topic was something I was extremely excited and passionate about, and I could talk about all day (nature, of course).
I had practiced my speech, and cut it down to fit into 6 minutes with 10 seconds or so to spare. I’d followed my professor’s advice when it came to writing the outline, resulting in me getting a 100% on it. I’d even brought a few dried samples of foliage to show off so people could get an idea of the size of each thing I talked about. And I started my speech off strong and confident.
Everything was perfect… until it wasn’t.
Yes, I was terrified from the start. Like usual, before walking into the building, I took some Propranolol with a bottle of Ginger Ale, spent a couple minutes doing progressive muscle relaxation workouts, and strutted to class like I ruled the campus. But, all of my preparation, confidence, and knowledge seemed to go immediately out the window about a quarter of the way through my speech.
Up until then, everything seemed to be going smoothly. Again, I knew exactly what I wanted to say and how to say it. I knew exactly what I wanted to show people and how to show them. I had my eyes on the clock and counted down the seconds per slide/card. But, then… disaster struck.
I knew I was in serious trouble when my breathing became shallow and my glasses started to fog up as my body began to roast. Talking got progressively harder as my airways constricted. My vision tunneled and my hearing began to muffle. I could tell I was stuttering and speaking slower, especially when talking about Ponderosas and transitioning to talking about Mule Deer. By the time I got to talking about Merriam turkeys, I was getting incredibly lightheaded and only had 30 seconds before I hit the 6 minute mark.
I don’t remember how I managed to get through the rest of the turkey slide, let alone the Bullsnake slide (though I did, because that’s the last slide I showed everyone). What I do know is that my internal monologue was in full-blown panic mode. If I didn’t get my ass back in my chair in T-minus ten seconds after abruptly concluding my speech, I’d be leaving campus in an ambulance. My vision, at that point, was almost completely gone due to one of the worst ocular migraines I’ve ever had, and I felt like I was standing on the deck of a fishing boat in rough seas.
Miraculously, I not only managed to conclude my speech at the Bullsnake slide, but I answered a question about silver sage and was able to calmly walk back to my seat, despite the fact that I felt like I was completely underwater and literally drowning. Seriously, God must’ve taken control at that point, because I was completely engulfed and at the mercy of a merciless panic attack. Helpless and absolutely fucking terrified, unsure of what to do or say next.
Since I was the second student to give my speech that day, I was stuck in that classroom for about another hour. I sat with the back of my chair against a wall, so I could still watch other students present, but had extra support behind me in case I truly did pass out, as my head spun and my eyes failed to focus on my surroundings. Amazingly, I did not pass out (as far as I know), though I am certain I shook hands with the other side at some point after giving my speech.
Even more amazingly, I did manage to calm down significantly throughout the rest of class. Not enough to get anywhere close to normal, but at least I could see, hear, and speak somewhat coherently again, and I would be safe to drive home.
The humiliation didn’t set in until hours after I got home, and that “withdraw from class” link has never been more tempting. In fact, I’m still tempted to drop the class. But, I’ve decided to wait what the prof has to say, as I won’t get my grades/feedback back until at least Friday. I’m not saying I’ll drop the class if it turns out I flunked the speech, but right now, I can’t say I’m totally committed to the class either.
What happened in Tuesday’s speech class was my worst nightmare, by far, coming to fruition.
What made the whole shitshow worse was that I knew the material. I felt confident in what I knew and what I wanted to say. I had color-coded notecards by my side. I had a few seconds to practice with the clicker. There were zero technical difficulties. My professor gave my speech outline 100/100 points, because I’ve finally figured out exactly what she expects from me. I started the speech off strong and confident. Everything, for the first time in this class, seemed to be lining up in my favor.
Until, out of absolutely nowhere, my physiology betrayed me at the worst possible time, in the worst possible place, for some godforsaken unknown reason, in front of the entire miniature lecture hall. It was like the cable connecting my mind to my body had been completely severed suddenly, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.
This experience has only made my fear of public speaking exponentially worse. No words can even begin to come close to expressing how much worse my public speaking anxiety has become. Exposure therapy my ass!
"You know, I dropped my public speaking class twice before I finally had to bite the bullet and do it." my dad laughed as we sat at the Longhorn Steakhouse bar, on a cool, dark Wednesday evening.
"Really?" I scowled, "I was under the impression that you never struggled with public speaking, and flew through your courses just fine."
"Psh! You kiddin' me? Everyone- and I mean damn near everyone- is fucking terrified of public speaking." Dad laughed heartily, "I still shit myself between conferences, and I've been working in sales for longer than you've been alive."
"Trust me," Dad continued after taking a swig of his soda, "Nobody noticed you panic in the middle of your speech. Absolutely nobody. I guarantee that you did just fine, despite having a full-fledged inner freak-out, and having to cut your speech short due to time. I know this may sound shocking to you, but you do extremely well under pressure. I mean, you were calmer than I was when we almost slid off the mountain in the jeep that one time."
"Yeah..." I sighed, "I guess you have a point. Still, the whole experience sucked ass. And, we can logic-fy this shit till the cows come home, but emotionally I feel like I flunked that speech. And, when I return to class tomorrow, everyone's gonna know I freaked out and almost met Jesus in front of all of-"
"What's the worst speech you've seen so far in this class?" Dad interrupted me.
"Uhhhh...." I scowled as I tried to remember any speech I'd heard.
"Exactly! You don't remember. Same goes for literally everyone else in that class. Nobody gives half a shit about anyone else's speech 'cept for their own. It's true in this class, and it's more-or-less true in the 'real world', too. So, take your chill pills in the mornin's, do your best, and everything else will fall into place. Doing your best doesn't mean you're gonna be perfect, cuz guess what? Perfection doesn't exist! Some speeches will go better than others, cuz progress ain't a linear path. Be proud of the fact that you're forcing yourself to do this public speaking course despite all the other shit you're dealing with. That takes a hell of a lot of guts 'n glory that very, very few people actually have."
"Really?" I asked again, not sure if I could believe my dad, because in my mind I was nothing but an embarrassing coward.
"Oh, absolutely! People are way more chickenshit than you think. Sure, some people-not many, but some- are perfectly happy doing whatever it takes to get attention. But, the vast, vast, vast majority of people are terrified of any sort of public attention. Being an extrovert is not synonymous with being a good, fearless public speaker. Being an introvert doesn't doom you to fail either... Some of the best public speakers were and are borderline hermits..."
We sat in silence for a moment as my feeble mind attempted to process my dad's words, when he continued,
"I'll be honest, kid. I fully expected you to drop the class the first week, due to the class size and your anxiety, but ya didn't. And, even now, you're still going! That stubbornness of yours is absolutely gonna pay off, not just in this class, but throughout your whole life. Not many people your age or older are motivated like you are. Don't forget that. Hold onto that."
"I'm not saying it's perfectly fine you're stubborn as a mule-health comes first, as ya know- but I promise you, in a few years from now, you're gonna thank yourself for sticking with this class even though it scares the hell outta ya...When I pushed my public speaking courses till the very end of my degree, all that did was agonize me further. So, in the long term, doing the hard shit first will make your life easier and your health better."
"Oh, and I bet when you get your grade for this speech, you will be surprised by how well ya actually did. You're catastrophizing right now, kiddo. But, I promise you that nobody noticed you freaking out. Even if they did, nobody cared. Absolutely nobody. Every time you find yourself worrying about what other people think of you, ask yourself, 'When was the last time so-and-so fucked up around me?', 'When was the last time I heard a friend say 'you too' to the waiter?', 'When was the last time someone I barely know made a silly mistake in front of me?', and you'll realize that you can't recall a single damn thing."
"Even big fuck-ups are seldom remembered by others because, well, mistakes are what make us human. Nobody's perfect, and there's no such thing as a perfect speech either. Even I still make dumb speaking mistakes, and I've been doing this shit for almost twenty-five years now... Be gentle and kind with yourself. Don't be so hard on yourself. Trust me, you did just fine."
"But... what if I didn't?" I whined as I cracked my knuckles, "What if I flunked my speech, tanking my grade with-?"
"Where were you for the last ten minutes?" Dad smirked, "You need to be whacked with a frying pan? Shot with a tranquilizer dart? A pint of whiskey? Some edibl- well- don't do that because weed'll make you even more paranoid than you already are."
"Well... first and foremost," I began, smiling, "I definitely need to increase my dose of Prozac. Maybe that'll do something."
"Yeah? When ya doin' that?"
"Next week. Monday."
Dad scowled for a moment, like he often does when he's thinking hard. Then, he sighed and said, "After this, I'm gonna have you drive the jeep through Deer Creek Canyon to stop your reelin'."
"What? No!" I shook my head, half laughing, half panicking, "I couldn't drive that thing on straight dirt roads in Kiowa! I'm not driving it through the foothills at night!"
"Oh, c'mon!" Dad grinned, "What's the worst that could happen?"
"Oh, I don't know..." I shrugged, "We crash into the ditch. A deer goes through the windshield and we get impaled by its antlers. We hit a tree. I grind the gears so badly that the transmission blows up and we're stranded in the dark with the mountain cougars and bears-"
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" Dad rolled his eyes, "I won't make you drive the jeep...yet."
Saturday...
Lord, I am once again wracked with rage, frustration, and most notably, humiliation. Even as I sit up here on the hogback beneath the shade of the Ponderosas, with hardly a cloud above me in the deep blue skies, and a swift, cool breeze hissing through the boughs. Safe, sound, alone. I can’t stop myself from getting caught up in the past, ruminating, overthinking, catastrophizing, feeling the shame and embarrassment of fucking up in front of almost forty of my peers (even though, I logically know that I didn’t. Not even my professor recognized that I was panicking, and she actually told me I seemed "cool as ice" while giving my speech).
Logically, I know what happened Tuesday wasn’t something I could really control. I’d done my best to prepare for my informative speech on all things nature. I felt confident, dare I say, a little eager to share just a few bits and pieces of my knowledge on Your creation. But, my anxiety. No, my absolute terror, ruined that.
The fear didn’t originate in my mind. It came directly from my body, specifically, my heart. I haven’t felt the sensation of my heart literally stopping for a few beats in over a year. Well, until it did just that in the middle of my presentation. It all went to hell in a handbasket from there. At least, that’s true from my perspective.
Thankfully, nobody else seemed to notice that I about blacked out in front of them. Hell, from the sounds of it, nobody noticed a damn thing wrong, which is cool and all. It's good to know forty strangers didn't recognize that I was freaking the fuck out right in front of them. However, even though I know that nobody could tell what I was going through, I am still emotionally torn up by it. Humiliated by the fact that my physiology betrayed me, my anxiety got the best of me, my fear took control of my inner self.
Even now, I’m extremely nervous sitting alone on the hogback overlooking the stables in the valley. The wind’s increasing ahead of a strong, snow-bringing cold front, kicking up dust and leaves with the gusts. I’ve since gotten up to my feet, so I can better see the world around me now that I can no longer hear any animals and people approaching me. And damn, it's getting pretty cold.
Logically, I know I am safe up here. The resident mountain cougar is skittish of people and would much rather fuck up a deer than me. If there are any bears around, they’re busy getting drunk off fruit trees and rummaging through people’s trashcans in the valley below. If there are moose, they’d be down in the willows and not up here on this 12-foot-wide trail. The only other people up here are Ken Caryl Valley residents, and the rangers are constantly on patrol to keep these lands free of criminals (though I haven’t met a single soul this whole afternoon). The only thing that could truly get me here is a rattler, but even they’re hesitant to do any damage so long as I respect their space.
Still, I am downright spooked. In fact, I think I’ll get to wider, more open ground, just so I have more room to move and can better see the world around me. Again, I could use logic and reason to prove that I am safe where I’m at till dawn tomorrow, but anxiety doesn’t work like that. Right now, my body’s acting as though there’s a tiger hiding behind the sandstone plates that are sticking up from the fine white sand. I know there isn’t, but I’m gonna obey my instincts and get the fuck outta here. Hopefully, I will be able to relax better in the shade and shelter of the Gabel Oaks on the western slope of this hogback, closer to my Xterra and on wider, flatter ground.
Uhhh… well… I got so spooked that I sprinted all the way from the hogback to my Xterra. The second I began to head this way, my "lizard brain" took over, and I bolted. I leapt over rocks and tree roots effortlessly like a deer, and I didn't care to slow down when I came across a pack of mountain bikers riding up the trail. I just sprinted, hellbent on getting to the safety and security of my truck. Now that I made it, I still feel like I can sprint another hundred miles before getting tired. I'm super jittery and jacked up on adrenaline. My neck is throbbing due to my blood pressure being so high, and I'm breathing so hard that I'm fogging up the driver's side window and the windshield ahead of me.
I can’t wait to increase my dose of Prozac to 20 milligrams next week. This is fucking awful. I can’t even enjoy the wilderness without my anxiety kicking into overdrive over some wind in the trees! No wonder I need to be medicated to be a functional adult in society...and in order to enjoy this wilderness.
Two weeks later? My sense of time's going out the window...
In T-minus one week, I will be giving a persuasive speech, for which I've decided to try to persuade people to get a Nissan Xterra/Frontier whenever they have to get a new vehicle. On the surface, this seems like it'll be an easy speech for me to give. I mean... I love my Xterra and have been nothing but impressed by it since getting it. And, I also already tend to brag about my Xterra to anyone who dares to bring up the subject of vehicles with earshot of me.
But, the same could be said about my love (and obsession) for nature and all the knowledge about it I've gained over the years. And, we all know how my nature speech went a couple weeks back. Granted, I got an 80 percent overall on it, and my grade was really only knocked down from a 90+ percent because I forgot to verbally cite my sources and went twenty seconds over time.
Oh well...
It's not my grade I'm worried about, however. I proved that I can still give a decent speech even when it feels like I'm about to meet Jesus Christ in the middle of it (even if I'd flunked the speech, I wouldn't have cared as the speech would've been done with). Rather, I just don't want to go through that shit again. Ever. In front of my peers or not.
