Any time I have to engage in a significant social interaction, I rehearse. Casual conversations do not warrant pre-planning...but, if I am to stand in front of an audience, speak publicly, or endure an encounter with a hostile person, I recite potential scripts in my head.
My monumental stage fright remains well known to the public at-large. If I know I have to so much as walk in front of a large crowd, I fixate on my task...ignoring my environmental surroundings, until I am safely back in my seat. A few weeks ago I became an official member of my church's congregation. In doing so, I had to stand in front of my Lutheran peers and recite a rite, asking God to help and guide me in my role as a supporting participant of the church. Suffice it to say, I walked to the stage, avoided eye contact, mumbled my way through the rite, and returned to my chair, only to have one of my youth students lean over and say, "You're so awkward." Apparently, my fear and loathing of such endeavors lacks subtlety.
For as long as I can recall, I have been innately afraid of public communication. I think the phobia originated in church....in those damn prayer circles. I hate corporate coercion to pray to God aloud...and the guilt unleashed when you choose to keep your intercessions private. I would listen to prayer after deacon prayer and waiting for my turn, palms sweating, heart thumping wildly in my chest, not wanting to fuck up and say the wrong thing. When my fate was upon me, I'd befuddle my ass through my prayer, hoping no one would notice how quickly I said 'Amen.' At home with my family, during our mealtime prayer rotation, I kept my words to God to myself, only audibly uttering "Amen" to let everyone know it was safe to dive into the turkey.
I don't want to appear like a dumb ass while overlooking a sea of faces.
I would much rather look like a fumbling idiot with an audience of one.
I love one-on-one interaction, without question. I am a conversationalist, not a preacher. It's also considerably easier to say what I mean to say...in between awkward pauses. I feel less pressure to have the answers or look like I know what the hell I'm talking about.
A few days ago I was having a conversation with the same youth mentioned above...it was a heavy discussion, riddled with brokenness, anxiety, and desperation...He bore his eyes into mine, seeking some manner of absolution to his dilemma. I searched and searched internally for the perfect response...something that would alleviate his burden...and the only words I could muster were, "I don't know the right answer, but I promise I'll be here for you...forever." Sometimes not having the "right" answer, is actually the perfect response.
In hindsight, there are many times I'm thankful for my communicative apprehension. In my frequent speech rehearsal, I've often crafted premeditated zingers for people who have broken my heart or dismissed me from their life. I await the arrival of my sovereign moment to unleash my character assassination...but the stars never quite align and I remain...silent. I have discovered if I said everything that I'd mentally constructed, several of my current friends would still be enemies.
There's a fine line between stumbling through a speech in a public forum and withholding blind emotion amidst uncertainty, at least for me. Sometimes, I'm thankful for my verbal hesitation...especially when I can't find the words to convey what I really mean to say.
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