I know how it feels. Sitting there anxious, almost panicking. Those moments, days or even weeks leading up to an oral presentation. The feeling of your heart racing at the thought of that moment. These aren’t just nerves or butterflies.

I knew public speaking wasn’t something I liked to do in high school. However, when I got to college that dislike turned into a fear that I would run from for as long as I could. “For people with social anxiety disorder, everyday social interactions cause irrational anxiety, fear, self-consciousness, and embarrassment. Symptoms may include excessive fear of situations in which one may be judged, worry about embarrassment or humiliation, or concern about offending someone.”

For me, the moment I received a syllabus I skipped to see the assignment portion. If oral presentation made that list, sadly I dropped the class. To me, it didn’t matter if it was a minute long, I couldn’t, and wouldn’t do it.

So, I dropped classes that interested me and avoided any instance that would make me anxious. I even skip my first week of classes to avoid awkward icebreakers and introductions.

Now, I wasn’t medically diagnosed, and I’m not certain that’s what I have, but all the signs point to it. The thing is, people hear social anxiety and imagine a weirdo sitting in class, cowering and not talking to anyone. In fact, that’s not the case for everyone. While my face would flush from reading a sentence out loud in class, I could easily turn to anyone and start a conversation with them. So it’s hard for me to understand why something’s are bothersome, but others are not.

I’m not sure where this anxiety came from, but there’s a moment that I will never forget. I was a freshman in college and I had a short group presentation. I was fine, or so I thought, leading up to the presentation. My professor announces that my group was next and I felt myself get instantaneously light headed.

We got up and made our way to the front of the room, my eyes fogged over, moments away from passing out. I started taking deep breaths, it was my slide to read and I could barely utter the words on the screen. I’m pale as it is, so it doesn’t take much for you to see my cheeks get red. However, now they were burning. I felt ready to cry; ready to cry in college?! I barely got through those slides, before we sat down again.

So, trust me when I say, I know how it feels to drop that class. I know how it feels to skip introductions. I know how it feels to leave the room before you’re called on to read. I know how it feels to calculate your grade if you didn’t show up to present. You’re not alone.

It wasn’t until Junior year that I was told I needed to take an oral communication class in order to graduate. While this may seem ridiculous, the first thought to cross my mind was, “what major doesn’t require that class?” I even asked my advisor that question, who looked at me as if I was crazy. I was willing to change my major to avoid public speaking.

After that moment, I really knew something was wrong. I called my fiancee, crying. I told him that I don’t want to be like this. I want to be more like him. I want to be able to capture a room with my voice and be confident in myself. I was disappointed. I was letting myself down. I was willing to change my degree just to avoid a class. It was crazy.

For weeks I researched similar majors that didn’t have that requirement that I could switch into. As a Junior, this is nearly impossible. However, it goes to show what goes through someone's mind to avoid a major fear. It’s sad. It’s disappointing, and it bothers no one more than ourselves.

I remember when I was little, my dad used to always talk about ‘fight or flight.’ He would say this before every softball tournament. We would be in the car on the way there early Saturday morning. I would say, “Dad, I have so many butterflies I could throw up.” Expectedly, he would reply, “That’s your fight or flight mechanism, Roo. You can either get out on that mound and conquer - fight. Or you can run from it - flight.” Maybe it’s because he said it so often, or maybe it’s because it meant so much that it always stuck with me.

Regardless, I kept hearing him say, “fight or flight, fight or flight,” continuously in my mind. Because of that, I said to myself if I never take this class, I will never conquer this fear. So, I enrolled in the class, swearing to myself I wouldn’t drop. I avoided finding out when the last day to drop was because I didn’t need that temptation.

My first presentation was 10 minutes, and boy did I think it was going to be the death of me. So I practiced and I practiced. I practiced until I knew I could do it. But it needed to be natural if I tried to memorize word for word I would panic the second I forgot a word or two. Two weeks leading up to that Wednesday, the thought of myself in front of a room of people talking for 10 minutes made me nauseous. That Wednesday would be the ultimate fight or flight. I said to myself on the way there, if you don’t want to do this we can turn around. Walking into the building, you can still turn around. I got there early to stand at the front of the room by myself to see what it would feel like, you can still turn around. I would be third. Which was absolutely worse because each minute that elapsed I was ready to leave.

Right before it was my turn I left the room. I went to the bathroom prepared to get sick. Sent some quick texts to my family group chat and my fiancee and begged for them to wish me luck. My parents said, “just breathe.” And so I did. In my hand that day I held a little ceramic turtle. Called the “lucky little turtle.” A simple present that past Christmas that would mean so much.

“A lucky little turtle to watch over you, bringing good luck and protection the whole day through. Carry him in your pocket, or sit him in your room. You’ll feel his love and happiness, and good luck will follow you.”

So, took some long, deep breaths, squeezed the turtle in my palm, walked up to the front of the room, and I did it! I left that classroom that night, ran to my car, shut the door, and screamed. I may or may not have also done a few jumps of joy in the parking lot. I pulled down the mirror in my visor, looked at myself, shed a few proud tears, and said, “fuck, yeah!” Honestly, I thought I was the shit in that moment.

My fight or flight mechanism kicked in more than it ever had in my life in that moment. Now don’t be fooled, I wasn’t all cool, calm and collected walking up there. But, all I did was breathe, and at the end of the day if I passed out, well I passed out. My heart felt like it was going to explode in that moment, and some extra deodorant was essential. But, I calmed my voice from shaking and tried to relax and get comfortable up there. This was the only way I would make it through.

If you’re reading this, and you relate to this deeply, please know that you can get through it, too. You can do anything you set your mind too. Trust me, I looked up tons of articles on how to get over public speaking, medicines I can take to relax, etc. If someone would’ve told me freshman year that I would be writing an article on how I got through it in my senior year, I wouldn’t have believed you. However, I hope my personal story helps you know you’re not alone because this isn’t something everyone openly discusses.

It’s normal to get butterflies before a presentation, but it’s a battle to get over the anxiety of doing so. Please know, that it may appear like a brick wall in front of you that is impenetrable, but it isn’t. The greatest advice I can give is to take an oral communication class whether you are required to or not. It can, and it will help. You can do this, I promise you can.

I wouldn’t have taken my own advice three years ago; however, I’m so grateful it was forced upon me. I know what it’s like to feel helpless in those situations. To this day, I’d rather sit quietly in class and not be called upon. My heart still jolts when I’m picked on to speak. But I know now, that I can do it. And that means all the world.

To the girl who CAN public speak, you are the shit!