The Fear of Public Speaking: A Personal Struggle and the Path to Overcoming It

Public speaking is often cited as one of the greatest fears people face. It is right up there with death. For me, it’s not just a mild anxiety, but a full-blown panic attack. It’s a gut-wrenching fear that paralyzes me. I can’t ever remember a time when the thought of speaking in front of others didn’t make my voice tremble. My knees shake, and my body break out in a cold sweat. This fear isn’t just situational. It’s a deep-rooted part of who I am.

I’ve struggled with verbal communication for as long as I can remember. I now know more about some of the root causes. Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and autism spectrum disorder (ASD) play a crucial role. Public speaking doesn’t just evoke a little stage fright. When you factor in the nuances of these conditions, it can trigger a cascade of sensory overload. It also leads to social anxiety and a deep-rooted fear of judgment. This fear has only been heightened by my rejection sensitivity dysphoria (RSD). This condition makes the idea of public scrutiny feel utterly unbearable.

The thought of having to speak in front of a group triggers something deep within me. It is something that I can’t easily explain but feel all the same. It’s as if my body and mind go into full-on panic mode. My heart races, and I’m numb by the idea of judgment. It’s not just about the fear of failing, it’s the fear of being seen, being heard, and being judged. I know that I implement and advocate for being seen and heard, but your own terms. For me, these are moments that I can’t seem to overcome. 

The first real test of my ability to confront this fear came during college. We were all obligated to take a speech class. This class was a rite of passage that seemed simple enough for most people. But it felt like a nightmare to me. I managed to find a class that required only four speeches over the semester. At the time, this felt like a blessing. The catch? I still had to speak in front of the class. Even though I’d chosen the “easier” choice, the reality of it was much harder than I’d expected.

I remember vividly, each time I had to stand in front of my classmates. As soon as my name was called to speak, my mind would go blank, and the utter fear kicked in. Even though I had memorized and practiced each speech thoroughly before the delivery, I would still freeze. I went into that fight or flight mode and all I wanted to do was flee. However, this was a necessary course to take to graduate, so I had no choice. 

Up there, I feel the sweat forming on my palms. My voice would shake. My body would begin to tremble. I tried to make eye contact, but it felt impossible. I would rush through my speeches, speaking quickly to avoid the discomfort, barely pausing to breathe. I’m sure it showed. My face turns bright red, and you can clearly notice my discomfort. By the end of the semester, I was more than ready to move on. The fear didn’t disappear, I’d say it escalated. It just reaffirmed to me that my difficulty with public speaking would be stagnant. It just became a part of my life that I learned and tried to avoid.

A few years ago, I went on a Birthright trip to Israel. I went with my best friend, who is everything I’m not in social situations. She’s outgoing, confident, and effortlessly likable. While I admired her ability to make friends with just about everyone, I found myself retreating into my shell. The trip required a lot of group activities and sharing our thoughts and feelings. If I had a choice, I would have avoided it at all costs. But this wasn’t a choice. If you didn’t participate, you were sent home.

At first, I tried to rely on my best friend for support, clinging to her like a lifeline. But she kind of wanted space from me to form new friendships so I had to abandon my comfort zone. I was left to fend for myself. I didn’t try to form new relationships. Instead, I hid in the corner, avoiding eye contact, and assumed no one would want to connect with me.

I thought I gave off the “don’t approach me” vibe. This assumption, driven by my overthinking, only made me pull away even more. The days passed, and the more I withdrew, the more isolated I felt. But by the end of the trip, something shifted. I began to form a few friendships with people who, like me, had initially struggled to connect. These weren’t the extroverts. They didn’t thrive in every group setting. These were others who felt just as uncomfortable and out of place. I didn’t open myself up for most of the trip. However, as time went on, I managed to do so. 

The final hurdle of the trip came on the last day. Everyone had to sit in a circle. They shared their experiences of the journey. I’d already been dreading this moment since the trip began. Another forced speaking situation, another chance to make a fool of myself. I watched the others speak, each one more eloquent than the last, and the anticipation anxiety was eating me alive. I was the very last one to go. By the time my turn arrived, I felt incredibly nervous. I was already bracing for the worst.

When I finally spoke, I cracked a small joke. People responded to it, which made the tension ease slightly. I began with saying, “Well that figures, leave the shy and quiet one to go last.” People chuckled in a positive way, and that gave me a little more confidence to share. I was instantly surprised that my voice didn’t shake. My body didn’t tremble. I spoke longer than I had planned. Palms were still incredibly sweaty, and I did in-fact feel nauseated, but I was capable of calming myself.

I shared what the trip meant to me, and I did this without feeling completely overwhelmed. It wasn’t perfect, but it was a moment of triumph. In that instant, I felt a sense of accomplishment that I hadn’t thought possible. I had done it. I had faced my fear and come out the other side and survived. I felt indescribable relief. I congratulated myself for overcoming my greatest horror.

The big question, then, is, “what would it take to overcome this fear?” “How do you push yourself past something so overwhelming?” I don’t have an answer, not a definitive one. But I think it begins with small steps. First, acknowledge the fear. Then, accept that it’s part of who I am. Finally, push through it anyway.

I think the first step in overcoming any fear is to start small. For me, it would mean practicing speaking in smaller, safer settings. It could be starting out with a small group of people who make me feel comfortable. All I know is that I need to push myself to be more vulnerable. I must shed that dead layer of skin, and try to embrace the discomfort. I must see it not as a barrier but as part of my growth. Most importantly, it would mean giving myself the agility to fail. I want to understand that it is okay to struggle, and the nobody is expecting perfection.

In the end, I’m not sure I’ll ever fully conquer the fear of public speaking. But I do believe that by taking those small steps, I can change my relationship with it. Maybe, one day I’ll stand in front of a group, and my knees won’t buckle. Until then, I’ll keep trying to push through the discomfort. It’s all about pushing through, knowing that even though it’s hard, it’s also a part of growing.

“What would life be if we had no courage to attempt anything?

Vincent Van Gogh