I had just turned 17 when my first niece was born.
For the better part of the nine months my sister was pregnant, we thought she was a he. We were guessing. April wanted the gender to be a surprise, so we were going off her instincts, nicknaming the baby “Jellybean,” fully prepared for the day she went into labor and we’d meet my nephew.
When the nurse announced, “It’s a girl!” we were stunned.
But so, so happy.
Payton stole our hearts from the moment we met her. There’s very little I wouldn’t do for her.
Even flex my public speaking muscles (which are small, by the way) in front of a classroom full of seventh and eighth graders.
I didn’t think I’d be nervous at the prospect when she first told me her teacher was inviting professionals from various professions to expose his students to possible career choices. He thought my story would be especially interesting for their age group, being that I work in media and am an independent contractor.
So, I said yes. In January.
We set a date. For February.
Scheduling conflicts lead us to postpone until March 1st.
Now, I’m not very good at math, but that’s about a month and a half’s worth of days for the anticipation to build. And build it did.
I went from cool, calm, and collected to crippling with anxiety. What if my mind went blank and I couldn’t think of things to say? What if I started shaking from nervousness as I spoke? What if I wasn’t interesting enough? What if I’m not as cool as she thinks I am?
I took a public speaking class in high school.
My first assignment was to teach the class a new skill. I chose to demonstrate how to decorate cookies. By the time I set up shop at a table in front of my classmates, I was so nervous that my whole body shook for the entire 20-minute presentation.
Betty Crocker, I am not.
The only thing I demonstrated was how to decorate a hand. When my presentation was over, I had to be excused so I could wash off the streaks of red icing staining my skin.
Luckily, public speaking isn’t required when you’re a writer.
Or so I thought.
Not long after I started at BestProducts, Facebook Lives became a thing. Suddenly, not only was I an editor, but I was also a media personality. Instead of a shaking 16-year-old standing in front of a class of 20 or so peers, I was a shaking 24-year-old sitting in front of a camera, live-streaming to hundreds of commenting watchers.
These are the memories my mind was flashing back to in the days leading up to my presentation for Payton’s class. She and I have become even closer over the past couple of years, and I didn’t want to let her down.
It didn’t help that my IBS had been raging in the weeks prior, and I was panicking over when the next episode would occur. Unfortunately, two anxieties don’t cancel each other out. They exacerbate the other, and my stomach was a nightmare as I was packing to drive down to my sister’s house the night before.
That’s when I decided enough was enough. (Well, with a little help from my husband, who gave me plenty of hugs and encouragement before he let me even think about getting behind the wheel.)
First, I tackled the thing that was most in my control: My stomach. I stuck a Be Calm Hemp-Infused Patch by The Good Patch to the inside of my wrist and scribbled the Twig & Petal Digestive Ease Rollerball (unfortunately, no longer available, but this one by Saje is just as effective) over my abdomen like it was a crayon. When I got to my sister’s house, she made me peppermint tea, and that is what I sipped on for most of the night. That, and seltzer, because the bubbles seem to help, too.
Next, I conquered my mindset.
Sort of.
I had a lot of help in that department.
My husband made me a deal that if I tried my best to calm down, he’d treat me to a spa day. You could say I’m easily bribed. April and Payton and my brother-in-law, Glenn, helped too. Talking with them about their everyday lives, and getting out of my head, was refreshing and cleared away some of the nerves clouding my judgment.
Would you be surprised if I told you I slept like a rock after all this?
I popped up the next morning like a summer daisy. April made me a fresh cup of peppermint tea and we got ready together, something we rarely ever get to do. Chatting while we did our makeup and hair calmed any remaining nerves I’d harbored from the night before.
I’d also like to thank everyone who sent me “good luck” text messages the morning of and who let me vent about my nervousness the day before. Words matter and yours definitely did that day.
By the time we got to the school and Payton met us in the office to escort us to her classroom, I was feeling pretty good. I’m proud to say the presentation went even better than I could have hoped.
Payton introduced me to the class before I approached the podium, and I was in awe of her. She marched right up to the podium and didn’t even hesitate. Her voice was confident and strong, and her demeanor was calm. Granted, she’s known these kids since she was in kindergarten, but that’s beside the point. Payton is strong in her character. At 14, she knows more about who she is than I did at that age. At that moment, I wasn’t nervous. I was proud of my niece and happy to be doing this both for and with her. When it was my turn to speak, I hoped to channel some of her shining self-assurance.
I only shook for the first few minutes or so, but I decided not to sit in the shame of it. Instead, I looked around the room and admitted to the students that I was nervous. “I sit in a room by myself all day and stare at the computer,” I said, shrugging off the minor quakes in my hands. That seemed to help break the ice.
By the end of my schpiel and their teachers’ questions, the students had a handful of questions of their own. They were warm, welcoming, and surprisingly engaged. We talked about who I would interview if I could interview anyone, alive or dead (Jane Austen); the most famous person I’ve interviewed (depends on your definition of famous); the first story I ever wrote about a little girl named McKenzie; how the editing process works; and what I hope the future holds for me (novelist). I could tell from their questions that they’d been listening to my story. It made my heart swell when some of the kids told me about stories they’d written, and even more so when I found out some of them had been inspired to start writing after my visit.
I left the school feeling a sense of empowerment (and a whole lot of love for April and Payton, whose encouraging smiles and warm eye contact gave me a lot of confidence in the moments I needed them). It was a similar rush to the one I felt back when I used to get on stage and sing in front of crowds (before I let fear get the better of me). I had faced one of my biggest fears, and I did so with the help of loved ones, as well as some inner strength. A strength that, in less than two weeks, the month of March has tested in a big way. (But, more on that later.)
But the best reward was the smile and hug I received from Payton when the last round of applause faded away. After all, at the end of the day, I did this for her.
If there’s something you’re avoiding, something you’re scared of and resisting, it’s better to face it head-on than to not face it at all. I promise you’ll come out on the other side and be better for it.
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Also we are looking gorgeous in that picture!!!! 📸📸📸📸
God, if you couldn't see it on my face I don't what you saw. I was so proud of you!!! Who am I kidding I'm proud of everything you do. Love you!