Transcription
[Music] Woo! Come on! Yes, yes! Rock and Roll! Come on, Sydney, let's make some noise! Yeah! Awesome! Yeah! All right! Yes! Now make some noise if you love TEDx! Yes! Make some noise if you hate public speaking! Yes! Make some noise if you suffer from stage fright! Make some noise if the idea of giving a talk in front of thousands of people is your nightmare! Yes! Yes! It's not for me. No, I love this. I love this. This is my heart home. Uh, I know how this works. I know all the rules here. I know how this works. I know I can drop my voice a little bit, get a little more conversational, talk to someone in the front row. Hey, how you doing? TEDx, am I right? Rock and roll! And then when I look up, we all feel like we know each other a little bit better. Yeah. I know that I can walk over here and say something silly like, "Fart, fart." You probably laugh. Maybe not. It's a pretty conservative audience. It was a risk. [Applause] I know that I can raise my voice to a crescendo and let silence hang for three seconds and then speak quietly, purposefully, and softly, and I have your full attention. I do not get stage fright. So people find it really odd when I tell them that I have an anxiety disorder. "How on earth can you have a problem with with anxiety, Jordan, when you are so confident on stage?" Well, see, the problem is, I am only confident on stage. If you meet me afterwards, or in the street, you will see me as a timid, mumbly wreck who is probably lost for words. See, the nuances of mental health are often lost on people. When people hear "mentally ill," they think "crazy." When people think "depressed," they think "sad." When people hear "anxiety," they think "very, very scared all the time." And for some people, that is their truth. But it's not for me. Not for me. No, I am very, very scared in particular situations, scenarios, with particular processes, with particular people, and I am surprisingly confident in other situations, which would be terrible for people like this. When people describe the sensation of stage fright, they often say things like, "I'm nervous. I might be lost for words. I might forget what to say. Uh, people are looking at me. People are judging me. Uh, I think it's all too much. Everything is racing in my head, and I feel like I'm going to freeze." And I know those feelings. I just don't get them on the stage. I get them when I'm talking to someone and I don't know what their name is. I get them if I go to a party and I turn up too early, or too late, or overdressed, or underdressed, or if I don't see anybody I know. I get them in most conversations, particularly conversations with people I don't know very well. I get terrified when I have a chatty taxi driver, or hairdresser, or plumber. I get terrified, like I said, in most conversations. I'm terrified of checking my email, and I am absolutely petrified about talking on the telephone. Yeah. Yeah. I don't get stage fright. I get life fright. Sometimes I'll try to challenge myself. Think I might go out for the weekend and meet people, have a good time. You know? So I'll get all dressed up, put on a nice frock, put my, do my makeup, get an Uber, cross my fingers he doesn't want to chat. And I'll get to an event, uh, probably a bit early. I notice that nobody's there yet. So rather than be the first one to go in, I think I'll stand outside for a little bit and pace back and forth. But then I, I think, "Oh, maybe people are watching me pacing back and forth, and that's not a really good thing to be doing." So I'm just going to walk around the block a couple of times. But after I've done that for a little while, then I think, "Oh, maybe people are noticing me walk around the block. I better go in." I go in. I notice that I don't know anyone. And so I go to the toilet for a good 20, 25 minutes. Then I think, "Oh, there's probably people waiting for the toilet, and they're standing out going, 'What is it with this woman in the toilet? Why is she taking so long? What is wrong with her?'" Oh, I really need to go. And so I leave the toilet. I notice that there's a bit of a queue, and I notice that they are watching me, and they are judging me, and my thoughts are racing. I don't know what to do, and I freeze. Like I say, life fright. It is only been in the last couple of years that I have spoken to people, uh, who have a similar relationship with anxiety as I do. It's quite common amongst performers, actually. And I have one friend who describes herself as "shy loud." Yeah. And I quite like the phrase "shy loud." He's perfect. Um, and it was only in the last year that I actually became acquainted with the ideas of situational anxiety, social anxiety, and high functioning anxiety. Now, the thing is, when somebody's anxiety is high functioning, that means that they work in society. In fact, we work really well. Uh, us "shouds," uh, we have such a heightened sense of worry and such a fear of failure that we are often very high achieving and perfectionists. The problem is that our level of worry is so high that even simple tasks require a huge amount of mental energy, and completing multiple tasks at the same time is very difficult, which is why situations where there's a lot of stimulation, like a party, can overwhelm us and make us shut down. When I was asked to come on board and, uh, give a TED Talk, I was told that the organizers like to be very involved with the talks. Yes. And so when I signed up, I was bombarded with a whole series of emails, many phone calls, and a schedule of when I was going to have a coffee and a meeting, and when they were going to expect a plan, and a first draft, and a second draft, and when we're going to have a rehearsal, and a dinner, and another coffee, and a chat. All reasonable things, right? Have some social occasions to make people less nervous, you know? And break down the task into manageable chunks. Complete the first task, then the second task, and so on. So the whole job is done without anyone getting stressed out. Makes sense. Not for me. When I see a list of seven things, I then get worried about seven things. And because I don't ever get a little bit worried, I am a lot worried about seven things, and I find it very difficult to do any of them. And so I worry, and I procrastinate, and I do nothing at all. I would do much better if someone said, "You have to do a TED Talk. See you at the TED Talk." The cool thing that I found out, though, is with the type of work I do, uh, my worry is actually me doing the work. So whilst I'm sitting there procrastinating, not actually doing anything, I am doing it, just in the back of my head. So when it comes time to write the thing, it just comes out pretty well formed. For example, this talk was prepared at 5:00 in the morning on the day of the first rehearsal. So all I've worked out right is I just need to leave everything to the last minute, and it'll be fine. Which is an absolutely terrible way to work. Okay? It's not sustainable. Uh, it, it doesn't work in every scenario. Uh, it's not very good for my well-being. And when I talk about it like that, I sound very, very arrogant. And that is the paradox of the shy loud. People see me on stage and they presume that I am confident, and outgoing, and fun, and well-spoken. And when they meet me in person, they notice that I don't uphold my end of the conversation. I rarely start conversations. I have trouble making eye contact. I ask very few questions, and I often make excuses to leave. So they look at me and determine from these two sets of behaviors that I am rude, and I am aloof, and I am arrogant. When people work with me, they see that my work is generally of a high quality, but they also see that I don't answer the emails, I don't answer the phone, I struggle with deadlines. And so they determine, once again, that yes, I am talented, and yes, I am smart, but I am lazy, and I am unreliable. The truth is, I'm not rude. I'm very nice. I'm also very, very shy. I'm not aloof. I actually care about the thoughts, opinions, and feelings of people so much that I'm often stunned into silence, and I don't know what to say. I'm not arrogant, man. I actually have quite a low opinion of myself. And I'm not lazy. I actually think about the work that I am doing so much that I just can't do it. I never get to relax. I never stop. I'm never relaxing, even when I'm procrastinating. You know, I did prepare the talk at 5:00 a.m. on the day of the rehearsal, but I was actually rehearsing it for a good two months beforehand in the back of my head. I never relax unless I'm here in these spaces, in this time that I get to share with an audience. Because when I am in this space, I only need to focus on one thing. Fart. There is. Yeah. Said "fart" at TEDx. There's something very freeing about finding out that you have a mental health issue. Oh, there's nothing wrong with me. There's just something wrong with me. Maybe I can do something about that. And I have. Talking helps. Talking about it helps. So this right now is helping, which is really good, 'cause you don't get paid for doing a TED Talk. So might as well get some therapy out of it. Genuine therapy is really, really good, too. And if you find someone, uh, who can help take you out of yourself and analyze your own behavior in moments of crisis and calm yourself down, that is really great. Uh, I'm not a psychologist, so I won't go into the mechanics of cognitive behavioral therapy, but I will say that it is very good for these sorts of things. I also find that I am most anxious when I am idle. So I find it hard to relax when I've got nothing to do. So I have a lot of hobbies, and in particular, I have hobbies that engage my brain and require a lot of concentration. Uh, so I paint. I play games of strategy, and I also do roller derby. Yeah! Yes, yes! 'Cause it requires a lot of brain power to stay on wheels and not get hit. Also, my roller derby name is Judge Booty. Controlling your environment is really important, too. And if I find that I'm in a situation where I can't cope, I'll find a way to take myself out. But I also take control of the environments that I occupy. Different parts of my apartment are devoted to different parts of my life. If I am writing, I write by the desk near the window. If I am painting, I paint at the red desk near my bedroom, uh, near my kitchen. If I am playing games, I play on the desk in my bedroom. Okay, basically, if you have anxiety, all you need to do is lots of desks. I also have allies. I have friends. I make sure that I don't go to social occasions alone. And if they see me struggling in a conversation, they will introduce themselves to share the load, uh, often starting by asking the person's name, just to make sure that I've got it. They also know to recognize when I need to evacuate and help me get out. Yeah. The other thing that I've noticed is the strength that I have because of my anxiety. I deal with such a heightened level of stress and worry that I am often very, very good in situations when people are typically stressed and worried. Very good on stage. Quite good at public speaking. I'm a very good improviser. I am quick-witted, but I'm also really, really good at taking charge in a moment of crisis. Like I said, when I can focus on one thing, I thrive. When I first thought that I might have a problem with anxiety, I spoke with my doctor, and my doctor said, "Yes, it sounds like you might have a problem with anxiety. You would benefit from speaking to an expert." And then she handed me a piece of paper with a phone number on it. And I thought about ringing that number for a long time. I'm just too bloody scared of phones. And yet, I have no issue talking about it to 4,000 people tonight. Fart. [Applause] [Music]