Navigating life’s awkward moments one story at a time
In my series “You Might Be Like Me,” I peel back the layers of my life to share stories that resonate with human experience, demonstrating that even in our most challenging moments, we are not alone. Some are heart-wrenching, but they are an important part of what makes us, us.
In this issue of the series, I reveal some physical symptoms that manifest when I get nervous. I’m talking about this vivid shade of red that crawls up my chest to my face and out to my ears, rapid blinking of the eyes, and even fidgeting — a not-so-Holy trinity. It’s embarrassing!
I’m a master of disguise. Or so I thought. I can blend into any background like a 5’6” pale wallflower. But I can’t hide my skin, eyes, and hands every time I have this response.
I’ve tried many things to suppress it. Deep breathing exercises, mindfulness techniques, even prescription medication — nothing seems to work. My skin, eyes, and hands are determined to broadcast my inner turmoil to the world.
I just want to be like other folks who can discuss emotional topics without vines of red kudzu growing up my chest. I want to stand on my soapbox and discuss what I’m passionate about without my eyes fluttering faster than a hummingbird’s wings. I want to feel strong enough in meetings to not have to fidget underneath the desk.
I remember my first real job interview out of graduate school. As I stepped into the intimidating interview room, my skin erupted in a constellation of red blotches. The interviewers, initially engrossed in their notes, looked up in unison, and asked if I was feeling unwell.
I tried to maintain a composed demeanor, but my face felt like it was on fire. The questions came at me like rapid fire, and I stumbled over my answers, my mind blanking out on simple facts. My hands fidgeted incessantly, and my voice trembled like a leaf in a hurricane.
When the interview finally ended, I collapsed into a chair, my face burning with embarrassment. I was convinced that I had blown my chance of getting the job. But to my surprise, a few days later, I received a call from the company. They wanted to offer me the position.
I was stunned. How could they possibly overlook my obvious nervousness? As I pondered their decision, it dawned on me that perhaps my nervousness wasn’t a sign of weakness but rather a reflection of my passion and engagement.
While in graduate school, I was a teaching assistant and had full reign on instructing an intro class. I felt confident in my education to teach others. However, as I stood before the projector, my heart pounded like a drum solo, my palms grew clammy, and my voice trembled like a leaf in a hurricane. My skin flushed a deep crimson, and my eyes darted around the room like a trapped mouse seeking an escape route.
I stumbled through the lecture, my words jumbled, and my thoughts scattered. I could feel the stares of my students, their silent judgment piercing my soul. When I finally finished, I collapsed into my chair behind the desk, my face burning with embarrassment, and dismissed the class early.
I replayed the lecture in my mind, agonizing over every misstep and fumble. I had forgotten to include a key point, my voice had cracked at the most crucial moment, and my hands had been shaking so much that the slides had jittered on the screen. I felt like a fraud, an imposter who had somehow managed to sneak into a role I was completely unqualified for.
As I sat there, wallowing in my self-pity, a colleague walked past the classroom and noticed. He came in and gently placed a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure you did a great job,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “You are one of the smartest in our cohort and you deserve to be here.”
His words struck a chord within me. Perhaps my nervousness wasn’t a sign of weakness or incompetence, but rather a sign of my passion and engagement. Maybe it was the very thing that made me relatable, that helped me to connect with my audience on a human level.
I started to see my nervousness in a new light. It was no longer a burden to bear, but rather a reminder of my authenticity and my willingness to put myself out there. I embraced my nervousness, and it became a part of my storytelling persona, a way of connecting with my readers on a deeper level.
If you’re like me, you might find yourself feeling nervous or anxious in new situations. You might worry about what others think of you, or you might feel like you’re not good enough. But I want to tell you that it’s okay to be nervous. In fact, I’ve come to realize that my nervousness is a part of who I am. It’s a reminder that I’m not perfect, that I’m not always in control, and that’s okay. It’s also a reminder that I’m passionate about what I do, that I care about making a difference, and that’s what truly matters.
So, to all my fellow nervous Nellies out there, I say this: Embrace your nervousness. Let it be a part of your story. It’s not a weakness, it’s a sign of your humanity. And most importantly, don’t let your nervousness hold you back from pursuing your dreams. You are capable of great things, and I have faith in you.
Thank you for reading this article.
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