Note: this article is a from a blog entry I wrote in 2017.

In 9th grade, I had my first panic attack while giving a class presentation.

It’s interesting because I never shied away from the spotlight up until that day. In fact, I sought out opportunities to be in the spotlight on many occasions.

But for some reason, on this day in History class, the stars aligned, anxiety and adrenaline hit me like a brick wall, my throat constricted, and I could hardly speak as 30 pairs of eyes gazed on.

It was humiliating, terrifying, and set in motion a phobia of public speaking that would follow me well into college.

From that fateful presentation onward, I was deeply ashamed of this terrible “flaw” that I had, and that shame was reflected in my self talk:

• You shouldn’t be nervous right now — calm down!

• You were a nervous wreck in that presentation! How embarrassing!

• You have to deliver this presentation perfectly, or people will judge you!

Shame, fear, embarrassment. Repeat.

In college, my phobia was debilitating to the point that I realized something had to change or I might not be able to continue taking classes. I made a decision: I would conquer my fear of public speaking or die trying.

I threw myself at my fear head on: joining a local Toastmasters club which I faithfully attended for many years. Members in that club were seasoned, accomplished, often award-winning speakers that took me—by far, the youngest member in the club and quite possibly within a 100 miles radius—under their wings.

Toastmasters was the beginning of a great personal transformation. I ultimately became President of the club I joined and began competing in public speaking contests, one of which I won.

After serving as President, I had the confidence to serve as Toastmasters Area Governor, overseeing five local clubs and about 100 members. More time passed and I asked myself, “Why isn’t there a public speaking club on my university’s campus?” So I started one, the very first Toastmasters Club in Cal Poly, San Luis Obispo’s history, and served as President.

I’ve since gone on to speak to large groups on many occasions and regularly present to large groups at work.

Fast Forward to Today

I turned 30 this year, and after all of that work and progress, I still don’t much like being the center of attention. Sure, I can give a respectable speech relatively cool, calm, and collected, but it takes prep work and it’s something I have to psyche myself up for. I’m cool with that.

If there’s one thing I learned during this period of personal transformation, it’s how vitally important one’s self-talk is in how they perceive themself and the world around them.

The older I get, the more accepting of myself I become. I look for opportunities to calm myself down or pick myself up if times are tough. I find myself mentally telling myself, “It’s alright, you don’t have to be perfect.” It feels good—a lot better than, “You have to be perfect!”

I have since gone onto start an online journal, KindMind.com, where introspection and practicing radical acceptance and self-love are key focuses.

Many of my entries take the form of an imaginary conversation as if I was speaking to a supportive friend:

Me: Today was rough. I had to give a presentation at work where I felt super jittery.

Supportive response: Crikey! Well, as you’ve learned time and time again, you probably didn’t come across as bad as it felt. And you know what, even if you did come across anxious, who the hell cares? You probably won’t know half these people in five years anyways!

Me: That’s a good point. I guess it’s just draining. Some people seem so effortlessly relaxed giving presentations. I guess I compare myself to them.

Supportive response: Great things often come from difficult experiences. These experiences are teaching you humility and patience. Amor fati: love thy fate.

I always leave these compassionate conversations a little lighter than before I started.

Arriving at self-love, self-acceptance, & patience

Anxiety is a strange beast.

I often imagine it as two personalities in my brain: the first, an authoritarian judge who expects perfection, and nothing less, and the second, a scared child looking for acceptance and approval. The judge tells my inner child, “You’re a 30 year old grown man, get over it. And most importantly, keep it to yourself!”

I have to remind myself that there’s room for a third person in this mix: a loving, supportive guardian that is always on the look out for this inner child. My own internal Bob Ross.

Bob tells me, “It’s ok. You can only do your best. It’s ok to feel this way and talk about it.”

Author: Garrett Olson, Founder of KindMind