Today I’d like to share a story about a life experience of mine, and I hope that some of you will be able to relate to it. It’s about public speaking, the fear and anxiety it can create, but also the power that comes from taking a step forward that is uncomfortable.
Before we get started, you should know that I had mostly forgotten about this experience until the other day, when it stepped forward as a new story idea. Not only did the idea come through as a powerful nudge, but I’ve had several synchronicities come through to help anchor it.
Sitting down to write about this experience brought back some of the feelings I experienced at the time. I feel now that this was an important exercise for me to complete, and maybe it will help someone who is stepping forward with their own scary moment.
So let’s get started.
This took place a decade ago, and at the time, I ran a large lifecycle and asset management program for the City of Ottawa. Our program was responsible for every personal computing device, every phone, and all licensed software. It was a busy but fun role, and I understood each city department and the roles they played to keep our city functioning.
One morning, my manager came to me and said, Tom, I need you to give a talk about our program.
My reaction was a long pause. I felt my body twist and turn energetically as I tried to focus on what she had just said, and yes, these words had actually just come out of her mouth.
I remember confidently saying. Here’s the deal. I’ll create all the talking points and all the slides for you to give the presentation. In reality, I was anything but confident; I was more than a little uncomfortable. I was terrified.
My manager said. “No, Tom, you’re giving the talk. I’ll approve what you talk about.” And with that, she left my office.
So that was that. I was in shock.
Public speaking had never come up in my role. But here it was, for the first time, sitting squarely in my lap. I remember sending my manager an email to clarify what had been said in the hopes I could shift myself out of the driver’s seat, but that wasn’t going to happen.
The initial shock had subsided, but I continued to feel an ongoing pulse of unease. All I could think about was the million different ways this was a bad idea.
Looking back now, I see how strange our mind works. I was reacting to someone’s words, not even a real situation.
Over the next week, I found out more about the talk. The format was going to be a TED Talk-style event. Our department had chosen 3 individuals, myself included, to speak within an hour-long window. The event was called “Tech Talks” and was created to showcase our department, Information Technology.
The event would take place in a small theater in a nearby city building. The target audience was upper management from every city department. It would be livestreamed and recorded for those unavailable to attend. 300 attendees were expected.
There would be an event introduction and an intro for each speaker. We were expected to talk for 10 minutes, and there would be a combined Q and A for all 3 talks to finish the session.
As I learned more about the event, I also understood why my program was on the docket. Computer hardware was important for everyone across the city, and with budgets shrinking, people were keen to know everything they could about us and how they could leverage our program.
Looking back now, I see some of the angles that escaped me at the time. It would actually be fun to help managers see the mechanics of our program, and I was the absolute right person to tell them.
I had fun creating solid talking points and refining my slideshow. My manager loved it. But I still had no idea how I would walk up to the podium and speak?
I’m providing all this background to help the listener understand where anxiety came from.
The talk was 3 weeks away when I received an email from the department communications group. They required all speakers to present in front of a panel. This would happen 3 times over the next two weeks and was designed to strengthen each presentation. This showcase was being given a lot of attention, and expectations for success were high.
When I arrived for the first session, I noticed that all 3 panelists were people I knew and people I trusted to assist with my practice run. When I look back on these practice sessions, I was nervous, but nothing close to what my mind brought forward for the actual event. Maybe these sessions were helpful because I found myself able to be human and possibly disperse some of the anxious energy I was feeling.
Interestingly, the panelists quite liked my presentation; one even told me I was a natural public speaker. I worked offline with one more than others, and it built a lot of confidence for me.
As the date got closer, my mind took me there every chance it could. I thought about it constantly and felt different sensations, mostly where I felt trapped in this unbelievable reality.
I remember getting comfortable with the material I was presenting and made an executive decision to only read through the slides once per day. I did this each night shortly before I went to bed. I also did lots of praying and intention work with my guides. I knew at this point any attempt to get out of the talk would be disastrous for me, and yet my mind was still coming up with ways to do this. For example, how to be sick and away from work without it being obvious that I was avoiding speaking. You name it, I thought it up.
The talk was on a Tuesday, and on the last weekend before the event, I was more relaxed than I expected. Monday night, I read the slides out loud one last time and got to bed early.
Tuesday, the big day was here!
I drove to work and made a point of avoiding people who would speak to me about the presentation. I felt like an athlete getting in the zone.
The weeks prior, I had many people ask me how I was feeling, to which I would honestly reply, “I’m feeling prepared.” Not a single person poked or teased me about it.
When I arrived at the theatre, I purposefully didn’t engage in small talk but rather grounded myself by stepping away from the excitement as it amped up.
At 10, the doors closed and all 300 seats in the theatre were full. I’m sitting in the front row with the other speakers. I’m surprisingly calm.
The greeting and introduction, and the first speaker are up. As their talk wound down, I had this incredible feeling of dread, but I remember breathing and feeling this energy transform somewhat. I was introduced and stepped to the podium. I remember taking my time and looking at the audience, and allowing their presence to come forward and meet mine. Then I began.
I remember my left hand, which was holding the microphone, shook, so I pulled my arm against my chest to anchor this, and it dissipated. By the time I was on the second slide, I was on fire. Something was with me and gave me amazing strength. I spoke clearly and focused, keeping away from filler words and unnecessary content. I remember clearly adlibbing several times by tying the work of our program to other branches of our department and then linking to external city departments. The audience seemed really into it, listening carefully. By the time I was done, I had run double the allotted time, almost 20 minutes.
But what is more interesting is that I was reading the room, and they all wanted every word. When I finished, there was applause, and I was smiling, actually beaming. A manager in the audience that I didn’t know broke protocol and stood to ask a question, which I handled perfectly before walking back to my seat.
It was over. All the stress, worry, and anxiety had released.
When the event concluded, I was caught up in a group near the stage. The conversation clearly showed that everyone had enjoyed the event, and not a single glitch was spoken about.
As people began to leave, I put my winter coat on and prepared for the walk back to my building. It was a cold February day, but sunny, not a cloud in the sky.
I decided to go for a long walk. I walked for almost an hour before returning to my building, and I know this will sound unusual, but I felt as though God walked with me. I didn’t feel gravity or any other Earthly density. It was as if I were inside a bright beacon of the purest sunshine, and I didn’t want to see it end.
When I stepped into the office, people were working as usual, and I felt totally foreign to the whole office dynamic. The rest of the day was like this, where I was tuned into another layer or level of my being.
As the days passed after the Tech Talk, I was commended on how well I had represented our department. I received many nice emails and comments in person, many coming from people I hadn’t known previously. People were engaging just to engage.
I met someone at the corporate gym weeks later who came over to talk. He said my talk was amazing, going on to say, “whatever you were on was good stuff, adding that people couldn’t take their eyes off you.”
Strange as that last comment sounds, other people said similar things, almost not being able to find words to describe it. To this, I don’t have an answer, at least nothing that can be put into words.
What started as something I literally thought was impossible became divinely touched.
I’ve spoken publicly many times since, and I’m always nervous, sometimes very nervous. Once and a while, I’m not nervous at all. I wish I could understand the why or how of it, but I do know that once I get speaking, this calm always settles over me.
Maybe this is why some artists speak of the rush and energy they feel when playing for an audience.
I have great appreciation for people who seem unfazed when speaking to an audience, and hope that someday I will feel this comfortable too.
This talk, the one I’ve just described, was a groundbreaking moment for me. I learned that sometimes you can’t say no, and that to say yes is uncomfortable. Then, find a way to trust the process and let the universe step in and help.
This support came through for me, and I think the reason it did was because somewhere deep down I knew it would, and I allowed it.
It provided an opportunity for me to feel into all of who I am, the messy stuff and the light. To see the totality of my power.
This same energy is part of your life, too, and we all need to take a chance and allow it in.
By Tom Kelly
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