I’ve stood atop a windswept ridgeline with thunder rolling in the distance. I’ve paddled alone across a midnight lake so silent, the sound of my oar dipping into the water felt like a shout. I've hiked trails where cougar warnings were posted every quarter mile (and then googled "Am I cougar food?" halfway up the incline). So, you’d think I’d have mastered all fears by now. But no. There was one beast I’d never challenged head-on: a mic.

Yes, my lifelong fear of public speaking—the kind that makes your stomach do somersaults and your palms sweat like they’re auditioning for a Slip ’N Slide commercial—followed me for decades. This article isn’t just about overcoming that fear. It’s about the surprising ways doing so changed everything else in my life, including how I connect with others and even how I view relationships.

The Fear That Lurks Stronger Than a Tinder Ghost

Confession: I was the kid in school who faked sick on presentation day. I’d break out in a rash just thinking about speaking in front of my peers, let alone getting up there with visual aids and group participation. The cracks in linoleum suddenly became deeply interesting.

Fast-forward to adulthood, where refusing to speak in public becomes harder to avoid. Work meetings. Wedding toasts. That time you’re at trivia night with friends and have to yell out the winning answer. (Apparently, “SHAWN MENDES!” isn’t something one can whisper and expect applause.)

The thing people don’t tell you about public speaking is how sneaky it is. It disguises itself as other fears: fear of judgment, fear of failure, fear of taking up space you somehow feel you don’t deserve. It’s the anti-flirt—a block between you and every genuine connection you want to make, even if the only thing you’re trying to connect to is a room full of semi-interested coworkers.

My wake-up call came two years ago when I was asked to speak at a conservation event about a project I'd overseen. Me, the self-diagnosed introvert. Me, with a track record of avoiding group karaoke as if it were a legally binding life choice. For the first time, I knew I couldn’t duck out. It wasn’t just about me anymore—it was about a cause I cared about. And so began my terrifying, wonderful trial by fire.

Flirting with Disaster: The First Steps

Like a first date, confronting public speaking required an outfit I felt “okay” puking in and low expectations. I started small: reading aloud to myself while staring at a blank wall. It turned out the wall was a stellar audience: attentive, absolutely nonjudgmental, and great at fostering a sense of superiority. (10/10 would recommend this to fellow scaredy-cats.)

Here’s what actually worked for me:

  • Rewrite the Narrative. I began by flipping the script I told myself: It wasn’t “me, the awkward stammering fool,” but “me, the woman who loves her subject so darn much she can’t not share it.” Like love itself, passion refuses to be silenced—even if voiced with a shaky octave.

  • Channel the Energy. Remember how butterflies in your stomach before a date can be turned into excitement rather than dread? I applied the same to speaking. Instead of wishing the nerves away, I leaned into them, treating the adrenaline rush as a friend, not a foe. (I named my butterflies Beyoncé.)

  • Practice with Pets. I enlisted my dog, Juniper, as my first audience. She heard my talk nine times—an impressive feat given her usual attention span revolves exclusively around biscuits. Believe it or not, her sleepy nod of approval was a confidence boost.

By breaking the process into these tiny, manageable steps, I found I could exist in the fear rather than be swallowed by it. The fear wasn’t gone. It just wasn’t winning anymore.

The Unexpected Love Story

That event? I survived it. Scar tissue and all. But what I didn’t expect was how that experience would ripple through the rest of my life, especially my relationships.

Public speaking teaches you how to be seen, flaws and all. (Spoiler: flaws are part of the charm.) There’s something incredibly grounding about fumbling through a sentence, pausing nervously, realizing no one’s running for the exit, and then finishing strong despite it all. Speaking taught me to embrace—and even laugh at—imperfection.

Years of dodging public speaking, I realized, had mirrored some of my hang-ups with vulnerability in relationships. It’s scary to lay your cards on the table, to risk judgment, to say something and have it land the wrong way. But just as a joke met with silence doesn’t signal the end of the world, a missed cue in love doesn’t mark the end of effort. Speaking up—whether in public or in your private life—is the only way to understand others and, just as importantly, yourself.

How You Can Conquer Your Fear (Yes, You!)

If public speaking isn’t your particular bogeyman, substitute “public speaking” here for whatever holds you back from living fully. Maybe it’s fear of putting yourself out there romantically, fear of traveling solo, or fear of showing vulnerability with someone close to you. The same principles apply. Here’s what worked for me—and might just work for you too:

  1. Start Small. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and neither are confidence levels. Test yourself in a low-pressure environment first.

  2. Flip Your Reason Why. Stop focusing on what you’re afraid of and start focusing on what you’re passionate about. A cause? A person? A goal? Let that guide you instead of fear.

  3. Lean on Your People. Whether it’s your dog, your best friend, or a stranger who regularly compliments your TikToks—build a cheer squad that rallies behind you and your effort.

  4. Laugh at Yourself. Life is a series of bloopers. The sooner you embrace that, the sooner progress feels joyful, not grueling.

Courage Is Contagious

Once you face one big fear, it’s a little easier to tackle the next. You see your own resilience in action. That conservation event? It led to another speaking opportunity—and then another. Now, whether I’m speaking to 20 volunteers or flirting my way through a wedding speech as the “hot mess maid of honor,” I’m there, present and unashamed.

Life is richer when fear doesn’t dictate the script. Whether it’s a mic, an idea, or a first date, don’t let nerves stop you from connecting. Trust me—even the patches of terror eventually smooth themselves out. And who knows? You might just learn something beautiful about yourself when you finally lean in, Beyoncé-butterflies and all.