Overcoming a problem that plagues
almost half the population
The day I remember the most from Acting School was both the best and worst day of my life. I was enrolled in a prestigious Manhattan summer acting school; I had flown through the audition and was beginning my first day. I soon found out that I would have to act in front of a group of teens while being videotaped and later critiqued, a thought that scared me to death. The first few hours were fine, an introduction to the art of drama and acting in general, but as I looked down at my schedule I realized there was one class that I was dreading, Improvisation. The hour came, the minute came, and then the second came. I was suffocating, I felt as though I was breathing with a plastic bag over my head. It was the worst experience of my life and I couldn’t deal with it. I was shy, way too shy to be in acting school, way to shy to be doing this. In that instant I questioned why I was there and tried to escape, I was stuck in a shy girl’s worst nightmare.
I had seldom met anyone who was shyer than me; it was not a way to live and I realized that. What I didn’t realize was that I could stop it. I was plagued by shakes, occasional anxiety attacks and constant nervous sweating. A simple task like talking to my friends was a labor for me, I would get nervous around anyone and everyone. The main part of my shyness was my ultimate insecurity and complete lack of confidence. I would ask permission for everything and did not value my decision-making abilities at all. Talking in class was a horror, actually talking at all was extremely difficult, because I didn’t know if the words coming out of my mouth would be acceptable, the answers correct. Because of this I was shaken when faced with criticism and exceedingly uneasy about any new experiences. People noticed this, people didn’t like this. New friends were hard to come by because I didn’t know what to say to people and I had a hard time trusting anyone who crossed my path. My biggest insecurities were meeting new people and public speaking and because I was so unsure about myself, I bordered on self-loathing. Every day my mom would give me advice saying, “Being shy is not the way to live,” or “You have to ease up,” or “Please, Julie, just smile once in a while.” As strange as it may sound, people confused my shyness with rudeness or nastiness because they didn’t know me or understand the way my mind worked. My mom used to not let me out of the house unless I promised to smile at people, give eye contact and relax, things she knew would never happen. I thought I was a lost cause, a girl with everything against her and not much for her. I was living a trapped life, I observed the world but couldn’t touch it and no one could get close to me. I made a pact to myself…. I could change…I would change.
It was now my turn to go
solo and perform an improv sketch in front of the class. As I watched the
teacher turn her head towards me I whispered, “I can’t.” I didn’t want to do
it; I couldn’t because I just wasn’t able. She threw me a puzzled look and
said, “Why not? I think you can and I think you will.” I began to feel the
normal routine taking form, my hands started to sweat and then my whole body
began to shiver as tears filled my darting, nervous eyes. The teacher said,
“Get up now, we don’t have all day.” When I remained seated she asked, “Really
Julie, what’s wrong?” It was then that I realized I couldn’t speak. I was
scared and I couldn’t tell her because my voice was gone. Tears began streaming
down my face but she did not relent. People began to look at me and then all
twenty-five of my peers began to stare at me, I could feel their eyes without
looking at them and I was embarrassed. The teacher was explaining something to
them about how things like this happen in life, but I couldn’t understand what
she was saying because I couldn’t hear anything. Just as my voice wasn’t
working, my ears too weren’t working and I remember thinking ‘what the hell is
going on with me?’ The room then began to fog up, through my eyes it looked
just like a car windshield does in a rainstorm. I saw the teacher’s mouth
moving and forming the words “you have to, you have to.” I thought ‘no, no I
don’t, I can’t, I have to leave,’ and I escaped. I ran through the door and
into the bathroom feeling a full-blown panic attack arriving and throwing my
whole body out of rhythm. That kind of extreme anxiety is the worst feeling in
the world and I was feeling it. I started to take deep breaths and dry my eyes
but when I looked in the mirror I saw a pitiful little girl, someone who
couldn’t do such a simple task and I wished I had the courage and confidence
needed for it. I swiftly walked out of the bathroom and back into the improv
room and faced my teacher, assuming she wouldn’t make me do it. She did the
unexpected and said, “Julie are you ready now?” Someone looking in on the room
would see me standing there shaking and crying with twenty-five eyes looking
intently at me, and I did it. I had to. And I was applauded. I was met with the
smiles of each and every one of my new friends and the smile of a person I
loved to hate, the persistent teacher.
I was taught confidence in
the improv room that day, a form of confidence I would never have been taught
if I had not done what I did. From that day on I did not talk to the improv
teacher, I did not go see her with my friends when she was on Broadway, I was
angry at her and a part of me still is, even though she taught me something
that has forever changed my life. Now I live with the mentality that the more
you do, the more confident you are. Because of my personal experiences, I think
that attitude is essential for anyone when getting over a fear. I look back on
that day with admiration; it was the beginning of a journey that eventually rid
me of shyness. What I do not do is remember. When I remember the feelings
flowing through my body that day I get flashbacks and sweaty palms and a funny
reaction in my heart and I reluctantly remember what it feels like to be shy.