This happens to me EVERY TIME I’m at a new event. And it’s so painful.

One Sunday morning at 8.25 in the morning, I sat at the back of an auditorium in Philadelphia, cursing myself. And then cursing everybody else: the woman I had just spoken to; my friend Laurie, who’d organised my ticket; and each person sat in front, behind, or to the side of me.

Up until this last weekend, I’d spent a lot of my Summer speaking or running workshops at various conferences.

In July, I was at the World Domination Summit in Portland, running a sold-out (I know) Storytelling Academy, coaching both the Attendee Storytellers and my client Jolie Guillebeau, then watching  them all smash it on the main stage (I’ll show you the videos when they’re up!).

In August, I was running two Storytelling Workshops at Camp Good Life Project. Then last weekend, I did three talks, as the official Awkwardness Controller at Jeff Goins’ Tribe Conference. At all of them, I worked hard and I had fun. I was excited on the  way there, and excited when I arrived.

But last weekend? This was different.

I was coming, for the first time, to Michael Port’s Heroic Public Speaking Live event. It was the first time I’d been to a conference both as an attendee and for the first time, in years And I’d forgotten how dreadful it made me feel.

The start time was Sunday morning at 8am, and they’d asked us to arrive 45 mins early to register. I’d got into Philly (am I allowed to call it Philly?) the night before, and set my alarm for 7am. I figured I’d squeak into the event with 15 to spare.

In recent years, I’ve finally understood that my relationship to time is very aspirational. I’m not late all the time because I find it relaxing and fun – I don’t. I’m late because I genuinely believe that I can be up and showered and have ‘good morning’ messaged my sweetheart and walked for 10 mins to the venue, all within an hour.

So, at 8.15, I walk through the front doors and see the registration desk. There is no one there. No one else is as late as I am. Oh god.

Eventually, I get a lady’s attention – and she discovers that there isn’t a pass with my name on.

“Didn’t you fill out the form?” she asks.

I screw my face up – and then start vaguely to remember Laurie – the friend who’d got me the ticket – sending me the link to an online form…

I tell her I didn’t, so the lady has to hand-write my name in sharpie. She writes it wonky and small. Then she ushers me towards the back half of the venue.

I go to the wrong doors, and appear on the theatre balcony within sight of Michael Port – host of the conference, and someone I know well enough that I don’t want him to notice how late I am.

With whispered ‘excuse me, excuse me’s, I managed to find my way to an empty spot, then sit, quietly sweating.

And silently cursing.

You’re SUCH a cretin. Why didn’t you leave earlier? Did you REALLY need to send Christa such a long good morning email?

Everyone’s going to see that your nametag is hand-written and think you faked your way into this conference. You’ll seem so unimportant.

Laurie should have reminded me about the form.

No, I should have just filled it in straight away, I’m SUCH an idiot.

Who are these people anyway? Some of them are in suits. I hate all of them.

I don’t want to be here. Why the eff did I come here??!

I miss my mum.

I should add that missing my mum is a gently constant state for me. She lives in London, and I’m usually in Toronto – so I don’t actually have that top of mind. But in my sadness and anger and panic, I longed desperately for the comfort that she represents.

I felt wretched. Awful.

But.

Then I remembered:

OH!!!!!

This is just The Conference Feeling!!! This is just fear of not being good enough! It’s that my brain thinks, ‘if I can hate everyone first, it doesn’t matter if they don’t like me’. I always feel like this at the beginning of a conference where I’m not speaking and I haven’t been before!!

I also remembered that

(a) it never lasts,

and

(b) the way over it? Is through. I just needed to ride this out.

Finally, they let us out for the first break – which is when I spotted a familiar face. My beloved (and amazing) friend Brenda Barbosa – who I’ve spent hours with online, but have never hugged in person before.

I ran over and threw my arms around her, both of us squeaking in delight.

After that? I was set. There were, of course, moments where I still felt nerves: putting up my hand to contribute in front of the whole room; asking strangers if I can sit at their table for lunch. But it was just a flash that I – again – pushed through, until it was gone.

Doing this opened the door to a lot of powerful learning about how to be a better speaker (and how to help my clients). Heroic Public Speaking Live is INCREDIBLE, and if you are (or want to be) on stage, I highly (highly HIGHLY!) recommend you go..

So, if you find yourself going to a conference or an event, and spending the first part hating yourself and everyone else – don’t worry:

That’s not how you really feel.

You’re just nervous. Slap on a smile, push through and it’ll pass.

Thanks so much for reading! If you know anyone whose nerves ALSO manifest as hating everyone, you can share this blog with them using one of the round buttons below. And if you’ve ever felt like this, I’d love the solidarity – leave me a comment! Thanks!

If you want to tell stories like this in your blogs – or talks – and would like a little help? I’d love to do that. Book in a free (no obligation) 15 minute chat with me, here:

You rule.

xx (Yes Yes) Marsha

PS want my biggest client secret, plus free coaching – along with tips and stories that I won’t put on the internet?

Join the Yes Yes Family – FREE – here:

Photo by Daria Shevtsova on Unsplash

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