The fear that comes with public speaking is unlike any other
fear to be experienced. My nerves bundle
into one giant ball and I wait for it to explode. I can imagine myself bursting into a heap of
blood and guts all forming the words I am supposed to say. With that in mind, the effect that public
speaking has on me is equal to the effect a bomb would have on any cartoon
character. My body language is fidgety,
my speech is slurred or stuttered, and the overall discomfort I feel is a
lasting effect, even when I have finished.
Some people have a natural knack for speaking to the
public. Unlike them, the first effect it
has on me is the uncontrollable urge to fidget.
I want to constantly move. It may
be a rock back and forth, as if I should be in a strait jacket conversing with
my invisible friend. The one that never
fails me is playing with my hands. When I
was younger I used to keep them in my mouth. As time passed I learned it’s
easier to speak if they aren’t blocking my words. I play with my jewelry, hoping if I keep
turning my ring I may lose a finger and attempt this humiliation another
day. I try holding my hands hostage with
each other. Somehow it turns into a
battle, and I have to separate them to my sides. No matter how I try, holding still while
speaking to the public is not easily achieved.
Another effect that speaking in public has on me is my
speaking itself. If I were to have a
regular conversation, I would say I’m well-articulated. Sure, I have a slight Maine accent, but I can
speak without sounding like a complete redneck.
That all changes when I’m placed in front of a crowd. At first I stutter
and skip my words. My minds trying to
control my body, so the concentration on what I should be saying is minimal.
Then I just start talking really fast.
One sentence becomes part of another and before you know it I’m halfway
through my speech. So now slow it down.
My Maine accent becomes so thick, you couldn’t cut it with a knife. Its not until I reach my last sentence that my speech is clear and it’s
the best-spoken sentence of the entire thing.
The last effect I have is just overall discomfort. I’m sweaty, I’m nervous, I’m fighting with
myself. My clothes are all of a sudden
too tight or clinging in the wrong places.
I’m worrying about the crowd. Should I picture them naked? Ew. Maybe
I don’t want to do that. Even after I’ve
spit out that last sentence of my torturing experience, the discomfort is still
there. I know what my downfalls are, I
can be sure everyone else saw them too. It’s a feeling that can’t be fixed
until I’ve left the vicinity, and am only left with my own judgment.
I have to admit, it’s been a while since I’ve had to speak
publically. I would have thought that
after working in the public for 8 years the effect would have subsided. I also figured being a bartender would
help. Speaking with strangers on a daily
basis should be considered good practice for public speaking, especially when
the majority of them are asshole.
However, I still find myself playing with my hands, or tossing a rag
around. The only sentence that I can
speak well is “Can I get you a drink?” Let me not forget the discomfort of
building up the courage for the initial “Hello.” The effects are relentless, but I’m hoping by
the time I have achieved my future career of teaching, I will have the skills
to speak with grace.
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