Beating the fear of public speaking

A couple of weeks ago I delivered my first big speech.  It was for a Dutch HR leadership crowd in Bussum, the Netherlands and it wound up being one of my best professional experiences ever.

In March I received a call from the organizer asking if I wanted to participate in the HR leadership conference.  When I asked for some more information about the program, I learned that there were no female speakers yet.  Not one.  At an HR event....

I voiced my surprise and disappointment to the guy on the phone.  "It is a reason for me NOT to attend the conference"  I told him.  A few days later someone from the event organization called me back and asked if I'd be interested in being a speaker.  Yeah well, how could I say no.  Not after faulting them for the lack of diversity in speakers.   But, more importantly, I did not want to say no.  I was scared, but I also felt honored.  They liked what I had to say, apparently. 

Now what should I talk about?  The woman from the organization would like me to "set the tone"  and "wake the audience up." Something about the digital transformation disrupting our industry and why we need our HR leaders to make a difference.

There are so many subjects that crossed my mind.  All of them I feel strongly about, like  

• HR must learn to speak the same language as business leaders.  That is the key to impact.  
• HR needs to be way more data driven and strategic.
• HR has a negative reputation. Often I feel defensive when I explain what I do to non-HR people at network events.  That really bums me out.
• HR needs to improve.  We need talented people who get it.
• Having digital natives/Millenials/GenY/GenC, or whatever you want to call it; as customers, employees and leaders.  My favorite subject.

I asked some help from a professional.  His initial feedback was a bit confrontational.  "Everybody knows this stuff already.  You're not telling them anything new."  "What is your main message?"  "What do you want to leave your audience with?"

Well, that is a really difficult question. I really struggled with it.  One thing was clear.  I needed to talk about my journey, my own story.  About why I decided to make the switch to HR.  And where that passion has brought me today.   I knew full well that this was quite different from most talks at these types of events.  But this was my chance to dare greatly. 

So, I dared.  I wove my personal story into HR content.  I decided to stay away from powerpoint and used a prezi with just pictures to support the passion and emotion I wanted to deliver in the talk.    

On the day of the event, I was scared but also quite confident.  I had prepared well.  My husband's words kept going through my head; "No guts, no glory."   I found comfort knowing that I was going to try.  I may fail, but at least I tried.  And I was proud for pushing myself out of my comfort zone.

The host opened the event with a short speech.  After that he explained that the crowd could choose between 2 speakers; me and another guy.  The expectation was that half would stay in the room and the other half would watch me in a different room.   But, the host made my introduction sound a lot more attractive.  He said "Maja sees herself as an HR outsider.  She was a lawyer and consultant before she came to HR.  After she lived in the US for 20 years, she decided to move from New York to Heerlen."  The other guy was going to talk about implementing some system. 

So pretty much everyone got up and came to my room.  There were not even enough chairs.  More chairs were brought in which delayed my start.  The pressure was on, but I kept my cool.  I did feel very excited.  I was secretely celebrating :"They want to hear my story.  How awesome is that?" 

With a pounding heart I started.  And it felt good right away.    I could feel how the crowd was engaged in my story.  They were with me all the way up until the end.  After 25 minutes I closed with my main point "Find your purpose, find your passion.  Because it is up to us in HR to make our workplace a better place.  Not only for our digital heros, but also for our kids.  A place where everyone thrives and can be their best, as employees and as parents"

The audience applauded loudly (I thought).  I was soooo psyched.  I did it.  What an AWESOME feeling.

The immediate feedback was really great.  Different people got different things out of the talk.  Some connected with my personal story, others with the HR content.  It was good.  The talk was good.  I even got three more invitations to speak. 

This was very big.  It felt like a huge victory.  It was the ultimate proof that I had overcome my biggest fear.  A fear that had paralyzed me for years; public speaking.  I really sucked at it.   I still crinch at the thought of those experiences.  I used to be so nervous that my voice would start to tremble.  I could not control it.  I sounded like I was going to cry.   People in the audience pitied me.  I could see it in their eyes.  They felt sorry for me.  Just humiliating.

Then, 4 years ago I did a presentation training.  Just 4 years ago.  Twenty years into my career.  Better late than never, right?  And ...  I fixed it.  Just like that.  My shaky voice was gone.  And it has not come back since.  It was not even that hard.   I was so happy with the result because it opened up a new world for me.  It changed me. 

I promised myself right there and then to not hide my past failures.  Instead, I should try to inspire others.  Others that want to fix their fear of public speaking.  I am living proof that anyone can overcome it.   It is possible to learn even if you really suck at it. 

So, here's to everyone who fears talking in front of a big group:  You can learn it!  You're never too old!  It is not that hard!  You might need to get some coaching, but you can do it!      
 

Why be vulnerable?

When I posted my last blog post, “I can’t do anything right”,  I was doing what I set out to do:  write about my experiences in corporate life.  Good and bad.  

But, did I go too far?   I did for some.  When I first realized the story’s impact, my first thought was "shit" .  What did I do?  People now think I am an emotional wreck.  That I can’t handle stress.  What the hell was I thinking?   I shouldn’t have published this story. 

Of course, there were the real positive responses.  Friends and colleagues who encouraged me to keep writing.  They connected to the story because they recognized and related to it.  Mostly women though, only a couple of men (Millennials). 

Others felt really bad for me.  A kinda “poor you” response.  One of my girlfriends even stopped by my house after she read it with some flowers. To make me feel better.  

But the most upsetting feedback was not written in the comments or in mails.  I felt it when I asked for reactions.  The comments were something like:  "That was really personal stuff,"  "I would never publicly talk about that."  Clearly, these people felt it was too much.  Why did I show so much vulnerability, laying myself open like that, and share it with everyone?  Why would anyone in their right mind do that?

So, why did I do it? 

It all stems from my belief that we need a new kind of work environment.  That business as usual is about to be over.  That work is not solely about "rational" processes.  I believe that if we want to get the best out of our people, we need to become more human in the workplace.  And that means caring - treating people with respect, empathy and compassion.   

And yes, this touchy feely stuff has a place at work.  Not only because I think so.   Much is written about humanizing the workplace and unleashing people's potentional. There is a consensus that being human is good for business.  If we want innovation, if we want creativity, if we want breakthroughs, we have to open our hearts to the people around us. We need to care. To connect. To extend ourselves authentically.

But, we need to make sure that these are not just big words and noble ambitions. It is not so much about what we say.  It is about who we are. 

In the months leading up to the big transformation announcement, I saw colleagues who, like me, were trying to cope with the extra pressures. With the long hours and the massive workloads.  Who, like me, were struggling to keep the right balance, stay positive, motivated and not get overwhelmed.    

This is the reality of so many people, not only in our company.  With the economic downturn, a rapidly changing world, the restructurings, the lay-offs, we are asked to step it up all the time; we are expected to do more with less.  This is the world we live in.   

We also live in a culture of “never enough."  Where the fear of not being ____________ enough is rampant.  

Just fill in the blanks

Not cool enough
Not perfect enough
Not powerful enough
Not successful enough
Not smart enough
Not thin enough
Not tough enough 
Not strong enough
Not resilient enoug
Not political enough

My goal was to write a “me too” story. How I was dealing with the transformation, the stress, the balance and workload. How the fear of not being good enough affects me in my work.

The self-doubt I tried to describe is all-too-common for women.  I believe this is one of the main reasons why not more women rise to the top. 

A few years ago, I heard the CEO of my previous company talk about it.  He explained that men and women respond very differently to his question: "who is ready for a promotion?"  The men all raised their hand immediately.   The women were not so eager.  The women needed to be sure that they were ready, good enough, for the bigger job.  

Although men tend to be more outspoken, take more credit and display (over) confidence, that does not mean men have no fears.  According to Brene Brown, men are equally affected by not _________ enough.  "Basically, men live under the pressure of one unrelenting message: Do not be perceived as weak." 

Men are taught that being afraid, show fear or being vulnerable is just not acceptable.  Don't be a pussy. Man up. Pull it together.

And lets be honest, we like to see strength, dominance and confidence in our leaders. We do.  We prefer strong, bold and even aggressive people to be our leaders.

So, we tell women that if they want to make it they need to hide their self doubt and adopt the more masculine traits, like (over) confidence, taking credit, being outspoken.  

But, we want men to care more, to be more empathatic, to show vulnerability.  But, do we really mean that? 

We want that vulnerability because we want to be an agile, modern, successful company where innovation is part of our DNA.  We want it because we're told that vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation and change.   Innovation is putting an idea on a table that half the people in the room thought was stupid. That the other half questioned.

We, as leaders, are called upon to exhibit the vulnerability that we want to see in our people.  That is not only about sharing innovative ideas.  It is also asking for help, saying you don't know, admitting you are wrong,  admitting that you failed, being afraid.  

If we want our people to feel comfortable coming up to us and saying "Hey, I don't really understand this and I want to understand it, I need some help," then we must open up ourselves, show our own vulnerability.  We have to be role models for taking risks and failing.

 
But it is not that easy. We all get very mixed messages. Make no mistake; showing vulnerability requires a lot of courage. Being vulnerable is truly disruptive. No one wants to do vulnerability. It sucks. It is scary. And it is risky, because vulnerability is still seen by many as a weakness.   And no one wants to appear weak.

….

The "me too" story I wrote is all about trying to connect.  Because connection is why we are here.  It is how we are wired as human beings.  It gives purpose and meaning to our lives.  Connection is about knowing that we're not alone.  To experience connection, we have to experience being vulnerable.

Also, I wanted to reach out to other women.  If more women understand that we all, even successful women, have a whole range of fears and insecurities, more women may go on to shatter more glass ceilings rather than succumbing to self doubt.

But, if my goal was to connect, did I succeed?

Honestly, I don’t know.  Did I show too much vulnerability?  Did I let it all hang out there?  Was I oversharing? 

What I do know is that vulnerability is based on mutuality and requires boundaries and trust.  We don’t bear our souls the first time we meet someone.  We don’t start with: Hi, I am Maja and here is my darkest struggle.  That is desperation or woundedness or even attention seeking, it is vulnerability gone too far.  Being vulnerable can lead to increased connection and trust.  But, showing too much vulnerability too soon can do just the opposite; causing disconnection and distrust. 

So, did I increase connection and trust with my story?  I think it depends on who you talk to.  We all speak different languages.  We tend to give what we want to get, we communicate in the way we want to be communicated with.  Even if it isn’t what the recipient wants.

There are many who do not do vulnerability.  They won’t get it.  They won’t get me.

But, as Seth Godin, so eloquently put it:  “real change comes from finding and embracing and connecting and amplifying those that are inclined to like you and believe in you.”

So, I will stop trying to win over the critics and focus on the ones that get it.

Knowing what I know now, would I do it again?

Hmmm, I am not sure.  I hate the idea that some people may have winced at my story.  The “too much” reaction still stings.    

But, I tried to connect and build trust and humanize our transformation and work. 

I dared greatly.  And that is what counts most.  For me.

I cannot do anything right

It is Friday night.  I am in the train on my way home.   I am exhausted.

It is an insanely busy time.  We are in the midst of a massive transformation.  The largest in our company’s history.  So, it is not business as usual.  Everyone is under enormous amounts of stress.  And, understandably, not everyone is coping with it well.    

Me, I go from feeling energized (this is big stuff, interesting stuff) to feeling overwhelmed (out of control workload and not enough staff).  The hardest part is the constantly moving goal posts and last minute changes.   

But,  I am actually convincing myself that this kind of stress is not all bad.  Inspired by Kelly Mcgonical, see here, I am thinking of stress as my body getting ready to rise up to the challenge.  It is really about courage.    As long as I perceive stress as such, it would be a good thing.  It also opens your heart to be more compassionate.  All good stuff.   

And I think it works.  At least partly.   When the pressure is really on, I seem to have an unlimited source of energy and drive.   I am able to get so much done and can focus really well.  And I feel really supported by my team.  We are delivering.  On time.  A real sense of accomplishment. 

But, it comes at a price.   Exercise stops.  Reading stops.  Good night sleep stops.  Relaxation stops.  Weekends stop.  And I am not present, at least not mentally, for my family.  The only thoughts I have are work related.   To be fair though, I make these choices myself.  No one is putting a gun to my head.  In fact, my husband and daughters try very hard to make me stop.   But, I don’t really want to or can think of anything else.  Like an addict.     

I'm pretty sure this is not part of "healthy stress".  I also realize that I am desperately longing for praise.  I am vulnerable.  And my team is suffering too.   What we need is to be recognized for how good of a job we are doing. 

But, no…. 

I just looked at my messages.   Shit.  Shit.  Bad news.  My heart is pounding.  We made mistakes.  Stupid mistakes.  Sloppy.   They should have been avoided. 

Part of me is defensive. “ Of course, this was bound to happen.  We are spread so thin and the team is just beaten down.  Quality always suffers then."   

But the other part, the part that craves praise,  is hurting.   That part is about fear.  Afraid that I am not good enough.  Not organized enough.  Not detail oriented enough.  Not experienced enough.  Not smart enough.  

I hate this feeling.  The feeling that I cannot do anything right.   And that I am not worthy of praise.   

Which is ridiculous.   I am doing the very best I can.   Everyone makes mistakes.  I need to be nice to myself.  I am just human.  So, I’m going to stop thinking about work and hereby commit to

1.      Spend quality time with my girls

2.      Hang with my husband

3.      Exercise

4.      Take the dog to the woods

5.      Practice self compassion and gratitude

6.      Practice laughing

7.      Sleep in

Oh yeah, and finish up some work.

 

I was in New York on 9/11

September 11, 2001 started like any other day.  I was getting ready for work.  The tv was on.  I was late.  I had tons of work.  Our day was full of conference calls.  We were in the midst of this massive due diligence project involving 80 countries for our biggest client.  The deadline was only 3 weeks away.

But this was New York.  It was quite normal to get a late start.  I was watching the Today Show.  Then at 8:50: breaking news.  There was a plane crash in New York.  A plane hit the world trade center. 

At that time, I was commuting between Milwaukee (where my now husband, David, lived) and New York.  I flew back and forth every week.  So, my first thought was “chances are that there won’t be another plane crash in the near future, statistically speaking.”  So, I was somehow feeling more safe about flying.  Strangely relieved.

With that thought I left my apartment and went into the subway to midtown.  To my office.  In the elevator there was all this talk about another plane hitting the twin towers.  So, 2 planes hit the twin towers?  Yeah, right.   That they were closing all bridges.  And that we weren’t allowed off the island.  Just crazy talk.  I thought everyone was just overreacting and being overly dramatic. 

When I got to my office it slowly dawned on me.  This was not “just” a plane crash.  This was not an accident.  There were 2 planes involved.  This was done on purpose.  Incomprehensable.  Some of that crazy talk was valid.  Now what?

Well, first things first. I was working with Dutch expats and we needed to let our families in Holland know that we were all ok.  The phones were all messed up, though.  We could not call out internationally.  So trying to get in touch with Holland kept us busy for a while. 
 

And then the phone rang.  It was my Israeli colleague.  We had a conference call scheduled and she was wondering if it was still on.  “Have you not heard” I asked surprised.  Of course she had, but she lived in Israel.  Terror attacks were part of their reality.  Life does not stop when there has been an attack.  Work does not stop either.  Wow.

At some point some of us were in our boss’ office.  He was on the phone with the Dutch radio.  Radio 1 wanted to talk to Dutch people who were in NY witnessing the events first hand.  While we were on hold, we could hear about the incoming news streams being read in real time.  Something about that there were still 4 planes heading to New York.  This was not over yet.  But, again, no panic. 

There was something else going on.  I knew that this was very very big.  And we were right smack in the middle of it.  This was history being made and we were witnissing it first hand.  It made me feel special.  I felt important.  And that was strangely exciting.   

We went to a big conference room with a tv.  It had a view of the towers.  Far far away.  There were  lots of people there.  Also people I’d never met  before.  Then the first tower collapsed.  Oh no.  I did not expect that.  Everyone was horrified.  And then this women in the room started screaming.  Her dad worked in that tower.  Jesus. Now, this was not “exciting.”   Did this woman’s dad die?  Surely everyone had left that building, I thought.  They must have.  They had like an hour to get out. 

Later we were told to evacuate our building.  We decided to just start walking north.  It was crowded on the streets.  Most people seemed to have left their offices.  And everyone seemed to be going north.

We all walked to central park.  We did not know what was going to happen.  Were there more planes heading our way? Were there toxic chemicals in the air?  Were we going to be quarantined on the island?  Were we at war?

You’d expect panic.  But, again, there was none of that. These were just rational thoughts.  I did not feel the fear and panic.  Yet.

It was a gorgeous day with blue skies.  People in suits and brief cases were walking steadily, silently, almost serenely, in the park.   It was surreal.

We stuck together that day.  No one wanted to be alone.  We were all expats and had no family in New York.  My colleagues were my family that day.  We watched tv in a bar and later at someone’s apartment to see what was unfolding. 

I watched the world’s reaction on tv in disbelief.  I did not understand.  Why were all these people from all around the world so emotional?  It irritated me.  It felt as if they were taking away from the real victims.  They had no right to be so upset.  It was not their drama.  It was not their family in the towers.  Most of them never even been to the US, or New York.

In hindsight, I think it had to do with me trying to create distance in my mind.  The twin towers were very far away from where I worked.  I had no right to be emotional.  I was fine. 

Or, perhaps the irritation had something to do with feeling guilty for enjoying being so close to the drama.  For feeling so special.

Either way, I was not scared.  At least that is what I was telling myself.  I did not let myself go there.  I did not panic, I did not cry.  I felt very little.

I went back to my apartment alone that night and fell asleep.  Without a problem. 

The next day I just went back to the office.  What else was I going to do?  That is where my “family” was.  Of course, I’d rather go to Milwaukee.  To David.  But, I couldn’t.  There were no planes leaving New York.  No trains either.

Most of us were at the office.  At first we were just talking, but after a while we opened our computers and were looking at e-mails.  Work.  Normal. 

All of a sudden the fire alarm went off.  I panicked.  Not again.  This time I felt scared.  Real scared.  It was no longer exciting.  My heart was beating so hard. I was shaking and ran down the hall.  I yelled at my colleagues to hurry up. “Leave your stupid computers, just GO!”    I ran to the stair case and started to run down.  Forty seven floors.  And all I was thinking was “it’s our turn” ,   “we’re going to die here”  “just like them”.  Forty seven floors take a long time.  It took forever.   I was shaking and had tears in my eyes.  I just kept running down the stairs.  There was nothing I could do now. 

And then we were outside.  I made it.  We heard that the fire alarm was triggered by some idiot smoking a cigarette in his office.  Some of my colleagues just brushed this whole thing off and went back upstairs to get their laptops.  But, I didn’t.  I couldn’t.  I was not going back up there.  Never.  I was happy that I didn’t die in that staircase.  But the panic had not gone away.  I felt so unsafe.  I needed to get the hell out of there.  Out of this city.  No matter what.

I told my colleagues I was going to Milwaukee.   I felt ashamed for being so freaked out. 

Now getting out of there was not so easy.  With no planes and no trains, I decided to rent a car.  But, all car rental places had either no car left, or very long lines.  It was so frustrating.  And my panic turned into anger.  I was angry at the people behind the counter at the different car rental places.  Why were they so inefficient?  Why did no one explain what the deal was? Everything just sucked.  I hated these people.   

Tvs were on in the rental car places.  I watched these stupid people on tv saying shit like “we’re not going to let the terrorists win,  we will not leave”.  Morons, I thought.  That stupid American cheerleading attitude.   I hated them.  I hated all people.

But, I was not giving up.  And after hours of hearing no and standing in lines, I got myself a rental car.  An enormous bright yellow 4 wheel drive.   I hated those cars.  But, it was the only one left.  It costs me something like $400 per day.  But, I did not care.  I would have given everything to get out of this situation.

I stopped at my apartment to grab some stuff and started driving.  To get off the island I needed to cross the bridge.  The panic was back.   What if the bridge was the next target?  I was holding my breath, tears streaming down my face, heart beating in my throat.   

I finally made it.  I got off the island.  I looked in the rear view mirror and saw the massive smoke clouds over lower Manhattan.  What a mess.  What a horrible, horrible world.

It was a 14 hour drive.  It took me 2 days.   I felt depressed, angry, scared and alone.   It was so good to finally be in my David’s arms.  But I would never feel totally safe again.  Ever.

 

 

Why this blog?

I started my first blog a while ago.  It's a personal blog about my accident ( I fell of a horse and broke my back).  Writing and publishing this deeply personal story was a big step for me, but I liked it.  My audience was mainly my family and friends.  They wanted to read the stories because they care about me.  It was a safe audience.

But to talk about my work, is very different.  Frightening really.  I have to be very careful.  I can't say anything that may be perceived as confidential.  I don't want to get myself in trouble.  And also, there are many people out there in the corporate jungle who would love to see me fail.

But, I work in media.  I work with people who are really creative.  They show themselves all the time.  I respect and admire their vulnerability.  They are in the arena.

And I want to call myself a story teller.  So, I want to get better at writing stories.  And to get better, you have to do it.  Begin anywhere.

So, here we go.

First, I have a confession to make.  I have been very judgmental about some of my peers who are not active on social media.  I feel and I have voiced that you cannot be credible in this field if you're not active on Linkedin, Facebook or Twitter.   Harsh, right?  And also pretty hypocrytical because I just recently started tweeting.  I have less than 100 followers and am totally clueless about the other social media tools, like Instagram, Tumblr, Google+ and all those other intimidating things.

So, I should be more empathatic.  My girlfriend explained to me that she would never put pictures of her or her family on the internet for everyone to see.  She values her privacy too much.  It feels wrong to her to just share everything. Now, who am I to judge that?

I sometimes feel that I am not protecting myself enough against the breaches of privacy we hear so much about.   Perhaps I should be more cautious instead of judgmental.

Also, I was definitely not one of the early adopters, either.  I was scared.  I have nothing interesting to say.  People would find out that I am a terrible writer.  And also "Who do I think I am."   This insecurity prevented me from becoming active for years.

I wanted to be sure that people liked me and respected what I had to say.  But, there is no such thing.  And it should not matter anyway what others think.  Writing about yourself is showing yourself.  It is being vulnerable.  It is uncomfertable and I hated that.   But, it gets easier the more you do it.  And then it is fun.

What I hear a lot from people who are not active, is that it is a total waste of time.   That they have no time to spare on this wasteful activity.  They are very busy.   There is some judgment in that statement as well.  It always leaves me feeling a bit bad.  They probably think that I do not work hard.  But perhaps they are just as scared as I was.  And this argument just makes them feel better.  Who knows?

But, it does not matter what they say.  They are not in the arena.  I believe in sharing.  I believe it is the key to gaining trust.  And we need more trust.  More trust in our corporations, in our leadership, in each other.   So, I will write about my experiences, good and bad.  I will Walk my Talk.