I speak very openly about my social anxiety. It isn’t something that I can keep to myself because if I don’t mention it, people think I am standoffish or elitist or unpleasant. I don’t want to be any of those things, so it is easier to proclaim that I am antisocial and let those judgments roll in than anything else. I find my life entirely ironic, since part of my career is speaking to large groups of people at length, and largely about myself. As someone who does not enjoy talking about herself and does not enjoy crowds, this is the craziest lifestyle I could have chosen.

Sometimes when I address a room and let everyone know how shy I am, someone after the talk will approach me to say that they, too, are shy (or introverted, antisocial…insert whatever word applies to you here). It is like a coming together of a brethren or sisterhood. There is mutual understanding about the trials and tribulations that we go through.

My particular form of introversion allows me to speak at groups of people as long as I am supposed to be there and I have a particular message that I believe the people in the room want or need to hear. As long as those stars align, I can talk all day. In fact, I’m not even shy. I don’t get nervous. I feel like I’m talking to my people. But, if you put me in a room with a bunch of people I don’t know and no one is expecting me to stand up and talk (yes, I am describing a party situation), I have no idea what to say. My face turns red and my hands get sweaty (my husband is always complaining about my damp palms). I turn into a ball of anxiety. My heart beats out of my chest. I feel like crying. I locate every possible exist, even if it means me running into the staff kitchen. I will, just watch me.

A question I receive a lot is simply: How do you do it?

Some ask with true interest for themselves, others out of curiosity, and others with an air of disbelief in their question since I don’t fit the stereotype of a shy person. If you don’t know me personally, it does seem like I’m lying about the extent of my fear. But then there are the people in my life who have watched it evolve. For example, before I go into a speaking situation, if I have the good fortune of being with my darling friend Lindsay Adler, she will always take my hand and look into my eyes and ask me, so genuinely, if I am okay. She knows. She cares so much. That is how my sisterhood is with me. They know that while I seem okay on the outside, my insides are cringing.

It has gotten better with time. There was a time when I wouldn’t speak to anyone and the thought of a whole room filled with people would send me into a panic attack. But then I learned the most valuable lesson perhaps ever in my life.

No one cares as much as you do.

Ryan Muirhead introduced me to this quote on the topic by David Foster Wallace:

“You will become way less concerned with what other people
think of you when you realize how seldom they do.”

Memories fade quickly for people who aren’t living them. I have learned that no one cares about how I’m feeling or looking or acting as much as I do. No one. We are self-centered. I don’t mean that in a bad way in any sense of the word. I mean it honestly. And when you realize that you are a character in someone else’s book, suddenly it doesn’t matter if you look silly to them. You have your own book to worry about, your own character to write, and I would rather write myself an awesome story instead of making sure I fit perfectly into someone else’s.

In 2012 I went to Amsterdam. I was set on creating an image in the city center. I wanted to overcome my fear by taking a self-portrait, in a nightgown no less, in front of anyone who wanted to watch. And I did it. Not only that, I went further to ask the onlookers to model for me. I got about 25 of them to oblige. Some said no. Others looked skeptical. But most said yes, and not only that, thought it was really freaking cool.

This is my new reality. This is my new narrative. I no longer see myself as a shy person crippled by self-doubt. I am without fear. I am without anxiety. At least that is what I tell myself. There are still moments – too many of them – where I find myself in a room filled with people and don’t know what to say. I start to hyperventilate and I can’t breathe and I want to cry. I run away. Those moments feel terrible. I feel defeated. But more often than not, even if it takes a little prodding, I do it. I stand my ground and I grow from the experiences.

This year I am making it a priority to do more public photo shoots. I want to connect people not only through the art I’m creating but through the process of creating art. It is the same process as doing something out of the ordinary. After all, the worst that will happen is I’ll be someone’s silly dinnertime topic. The best? I will change the way someone thinks for the better. I’ll take my chances.

I hope to see you in some public place as I embarrass myself doing a photo shoot. And if I do, don’t worry about me. I lost the ability to be embarrassed long ago. Just join me and be a weirdo with me. Trust me, it is way more fun than the alternative.

Do you suffer from anything internal that holds you back?

The more we share our experiences the more others will feel less alone.

I recognize we all struggle with something in our lives, and we are all seeking to be more passionate, creative and inspired. That is why I created the Promoting Passion Convention, so that all of us who are trying so hard to harness inspiration and find motivation can come together like family.

Promoting Passion 2017 is happening near Buffalo, NY from September 8-10, 2017. There are very limited spaces left, so join us now if you can!

Promoting Passion Convention