Stage Fright
A sweaty ,uncomfortable, moment of public speaking.
As usual, I find myself beating myself up about something most would find insignificant. This past weekend my family hosted a wonderful luncheon in honor of my upcoming 50th birthday. I typically celebrate quietly, with intimate friends, but this year I included all those who have impacted me in one way or another. I thought about it less as a celebration for me, and more as an appreciation luncheon for the amazing women who have had some form of impact in my life. Throughout my marriage I yearned for a large gathering but I was met with roadblocks and a thousand reasons why having so many people was a bad idea. I knew this year would be different.
Leading up to the day, I contemplated preparing a few words to say despite my nerves. Being in the spotlight makes my knees buckle and my hands shake, and I sweat in any public speaking situation. Each time I thought about speaking, my mind pivoted to any other subject, retreating from the visual. I figured when the party arrived I would make a decision in the moment. After the birthday candles were blown out, I knew the moment had arrived, but I chickened out. I was gripped by embarrassment and I gave a hasty thank you and practically ran back to my seat.
Despite having a wonderful day, feeling so grateful for wonderful friends, and family for planning such a perfect day, I’ve spent the last three days beating myself up for not speaking at the party. Can you imagine what it must be like to live in my brain? I had a day feeling loved and appreciated and all I can do is berate myself for not speaking. What I wanted to say, which wasn’t clear until after the moment had passed, was that the celebration felt less about celebrating me, and more about celebrating my friends. I could have gone through the room citing a special memory, or how each woman inspired me. I wish I had shared my sentiment with my guests. I wish I had said thank you for all the laughter, smiles, hugs, words of advice and shoulders to lean on over the years. I wish I had publicly thanked my mother for all her love in planning the lunch and all her love throughout the 50 long years she's had to deal with me.
Somehow I have this lovely day, and I find a way to overthink and steal some happiness from myself, and I find myself asking why? While I am a recovering perfectionist, my old ways resurface when I want others to feel happy, appreciated and to enjoy. I curated perfect tables, yet stressed when the morning of cancellations began to roll in, and the perfect tables were no more. I felt regret for not connecting with every guest as much as I tried, and so the day after blues rolled in, replaying in my mind what I could have done differently.
My hope is the way I live my life and treat my friends on a daily basis is the barometer others use when considering my friendship, hopefully not the forgotten words I wish I had spoken. I still have a little time before my actual birthday, perhaps a need a take two and next time I promise to be long winded.