All my life I have been extremely self-conscious.
It started with the impressions on a child of the 1940s, when children should be seen but not heard. Granted, as I see it from my perspective today, grown-ups had to survive a World War somehow. But that was not something I concerned myself with. I felt insignificant, in the shadow of a younger, cuter brother. So, I tried to compensate and became competitive, to stand out with achievements. I drew on the affections of two grandmothers. I learned to cook, to sew, to wait on them, to write poems, and to play the piano.
I adored my piano teacher. She showed me a new world of fantasy and harmony and encouraged me. I got pretty good at it. So good, that I thought to surprise her and go to the local radio station and audition by myself. Nothing happened. I was not “discovered” as a rising star. From then on I became very anxious every time the spotlight was on me. I wanted to disappear. My talent and love for the piano, however, caused me to major in music at ASU for a time, but memorizing the pieces to perform them to the faculty at the end of the semester caused me nightmares for months!
Determined to overcome this debilitating condition, I joined Toastmasters. I actually delivered ten speeches, but it didn’t ease the discomfort. Eventually I gave up my quest to be at ease in the spotlight.
But then, my daughter introduced me to The Moth, the podcast of other people’s stories and took me to a live performance of Storytelling and I was hooked! I loved the idea of hearing other people sharing a portion of their lives, with a beginning, middle, and an end. Now, I wanted to take a class in that, to learn more about this process! Having shared a few stories of my own life by now, I suddenly realized that the telling and hearing of the stories binds us together as human beings so much that the anxiety of self-consciousness just pales by comparison and has finally faded away.
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