The first time I was asked to speak at a women’s retreat, I said yes in the moment and regretted it for the entire month leading up to it. My hands shook so badly backstage that I had to set my notes flat on the podium instead of holding them, because I did not trust myself not to visibly tremble in front of eighty women.
The fear was not really about public speaking
What I discovered, standing there, was that my fear was not really about the mechanics of speaking. It was about being seen — really seen, not the curated version of myself I was comfortable showing. Sharing my actual story, including the parts that were not flattering, felt like standing in front of a room with nothing to hide behind.
Paul’s reminder to Timothy that God did not give us a spirit of fear (2 Timothy 1:7) has never meant to me that fear disappears. It has meant that fear does not get to be the deciding vote. I was afraid and I spoke anyway, because the fear was mine to feel and the obedience was mine to choose, and those are two different things.
What happened after
Three women came up to me afterward, each with some version of the same sentence: “I thought I was the only one who felt that.” That is when I understood what this kind of speaking is actually for. It was never about performing confidence. It was about being honest enough that someone else feels less alone.
I still get nervous before every talk. I have simply stopped expecting the nerves to leave before I say yes.