I HAVE STAGE FRIGHT

I have stage fright.

It’s crazy, I know.
I converse pretty well with people one-on-one especially with those I am comfortable around.

Averagely well with people I don’t know. Sometimes, though, I get back to my default settings and just stare at my phone even when there is nothing to look at. I have also been told that this is a bad habit but hey…a leopard can’t change right? Anyway, put me before the same people I am able to talk to, mixed a little bit with people I don’t know, and well, let’s just say all hell breaks loose.

I get sweaty palms.

My throat dries up.

My vision gets blurry(though I think this was my short-sightedness playing tricks on me).

My mouth dries up.

I even get these tiny violent trembles that I think other people can actually notice.

My stomach gets full, and tightens.

I make a mini “fist” with my toes, because my palms are already sweaty enough I feel like a fist could slide right through

.
And oh does my mind race. Sometimes I end up forgetting what brought me to stand before all those people.
I start thinking other people’s thoughts.

What is he thinking?

Is she looking at my feet?

Maybe he sees me sweating.

Does she know I’m staring right at her?

Are those crumbs on her face?

Is he always this pretty?

And to be honest, I’ve been told everything on how to deal with it.

Picture people naked: But how? I don’t think my imagination is that vivid to enable me to put everyone’s nudity in my head.

Plus, isn’t that a little perverted? Why should I imagine a whole bunch of people, some of who I think are my friends, at least at times, naked? Why should I put myself through the torture of seeing things that I know my mind cannot unsee? It has also proven to be kind of impossible. To picture people naked. You can have a vague idea, yes, but completely naked? Really?

How many people must you have seen naked to be able to picture others, at a moment’s notice? There must be an average amount of nudity that one has to have gone through to corrupt minds to that extent and I think my number is still quite manageable.

So… No. I don’t picture people naked.

Assume you are alone in the room: But have you ever been in front of a group of people who expect you to say something to them?

The sets of eyes that are fixated on you, on how you are dressed, on whether you forgot to rub lotion on your feet, on how much your hands are trembling or if your stomach is showing through your shirt. It’s insane!

There is no way in hell that you can simply “assume” that you are alone.

But, say you do. Say you manage to trick your subconscious into believing that you are indeed alone. Then what? You become the freak that is speaking to people who are not there. The freak that is talking to herself or himself while actually talking to other people. Because to trick your mind into believing it then you really need to see it. So you will be standing there, “alone”, giving a speech to who? No one? That’s even more absurd than Sheldon Cooper himself.

There are people who don’t get me. People who find it super easy to be who they are infront of others. And that’s alright. Sometimes I get jelous of such people. I long for a time that I can walk up a podium without my heart beating through my ears and I am envious of those who do it without being unnerved, but that hit a minor pause last week.

Here’s what happened.

I was at a friend’s house, and he had some people over. He is a poet so naturally some of his friends are into arts. They started reading out some of their pieces and singing and it was fun. I was actually having a good time. They asked me to do some and I said I couldn’t. The friend, the one whose house I was at, defended me and said I would not showcase anything if I didn’t want to, and we left it at that.

Last week, at that same house, with those same people who are supposed to be open minded and understanding, I heard someone say to her friend that I didn’t stand to share with them because I’m a snob, or a bitch, or both. A snobbish bitch. I almost got angry. But at what cost? It’s not like I would have gone up to talk to her since she had already made up her mind of how much bitchness I had.

A snob percent apparently.

So I smiled and walked away. It wasn’t worth it. PS: I am not going there again when she is there and I hope that in a few years I will have blown up and she will read this post and know I was talking about her, and she will remember to not dislike others for who they are but accept them and teach them what she feels she knows and she will then be beautiful both inside and out.

I hated being talked about by someone who didn’t really know who I was. By someone who only judged me using one single encounter. By someone who did not have the guts to come to me and ask me what my deal was, because maybe that would have been the person to help me deal with my stage fright. Maybe her courage would have rubbed off on me and I would have given speeches later on in my life with her in mind and maybe, just maybe, I would have been thankful and a beautiful friendship might have grown from that.

But no. She thought it best to make observations to her friends and leave it at that.

I pray that I never become that. That I never see myself as so superior that other people doing something different to what I am used to warrants me the chance to talk about them to others or to belittle them.

I pray that I do not become the kind of person that feeds off other people’s insecurities since I already know how that feels and I wish it on no one.

I pray that I am able to help those that I can, and that I am able to lift them when they are down and that I am able to make people feel good about themselves when I feel good about myself and that when I don’t, I pray that I will have people to lift me up and help me stay there.

Being angry about something that one is not able to control is a dangerous feeling.

It eats at you from the inside and gives the illusion of self disapproval.

It destroys the light that is meant to shine brighter each day and that has to be the most unhealthy way to live.

That is my two cents.

Evil doesn’t heal evil.

Sincerely, Awuor

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Anselmo

Wow! I relate to this so well.♂‍🙆🏿 Like this is so me🤗🤗

Awuor
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Awuor

I’m glad you relate with my experience Anselm 💞

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