Back from Texas

So I celebrated the latter half of Winter Break: The Breakening (alternate title: The Sky is Gray, the Days Are Cold, and Life is Joyless and Yet Too Brief; in Germany: Tod Kommt Für Uns Alle) by getting the hell out of here and hightailing it to Texas for the Mom 2.0 Summit. Sorry, Scott and Henry. Enjoy the rest of your Winter Break! So long, suckers!

(Very smart to have a conference during the winter doldrums, when everyone is desperate for escape. Take note of this, Other Conference Organizers! Next year: BlogHer 2011 at the end of January, in the Bahamas. All panels will take place on the beach. The lunch buffet will feature giant urns of daiquiris and piña coladas. I am onto something.)

It’s always hard to sum up a conference when my own experience is so colored by my wacky internal landscape that it’s kind of hard to say exactly what went on. (Did I really take my top off during my panel, like everyone says I did? Seems hard to believe. But when everything went black and I woke up wearing only a hotel blanket, who can say what happened in the interim?) (That part is a joke.) (You know that. I know you know that.)

I can say for certain that the panels I attended were illuminating, that I was thrilled to spend quality time with some of my favorite Internet people, and had some amazing conversations with people I hadn’t met before. (Apologies for not calling these people out specifically, but you cannot know how terrified I am of forgetting someone and having that person wonder why I didn’t mention them, do I secretly hate them? Which is what I would do, because I’m like that.) (I am allergic to hurting people’s feelings, did I mention? Literally. I swell up.) (Not literally. Which, also, you know.)

What always gets in the way of me talking objectively about the kick-ass conference and all the amazing people is the fact that—how I do put this—I don’t seem to do well at these things. I mean, I get by. Do not pity me. But I find them emotionally overwhelming, and spend the whole time shaking like a rained-on Chihuahua. After the last BlogHer I attended (which, okay, was a few months after a miscarriage, when I was suffering from some kind of post-miscarriage postpartumness) I determined that I would never again attend a conference. But I was assured that Mom 2.0 was different—smaller, more intimate. And it was. It was lovely.

And yet. I spent most of the time hiding in my hotel room, and when I walked into one of those giant conference rooms I felt the floor spinning. When I spoke to other attendees, all I wanted to say was, “Don’t you want to run away?” And they would say, “I’m having the best time!” and I would be all, “Me, too!” And then I’d sit in my hotel room and shake.

This puzzles me, because I’m typically a sociable person. I like people! Well, mostly. I mean, let’s not get crazy. It’s not like I shy away from attention, you guys. I enjoy the stage. I am comfortable with a microphone. (Anyone who saw my panel will know I had a hard time giving up the mic.) I had nothing but great interactions, and I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything. I don't want to avoid conferences, because then I'd miss out on discovering all those great people. What I could do without is the inability to sleep and the low-grade nausea and the, well, the trembling and sweating. What the hell, me?

I would love to know if any of you have similar experiences. Maybe I’m simply a delicate flower. Maybe I’m reacting to the wall-to-wall carpeting. That’s it: it’s dust mites! Next time I will attend in a plastic bubble.

Comments

[Diana]

Oh Alice, (sorry for beginning like that), I absolutely know that feeling. To be sociable AND unafraid is not me. I like the people, the discussion, the eyballing of everyone... but I also start shaking as well. Just, SO MUCH going on, people! But I am a very talky person! I don't get it. And then I speak too fast. ARGH

I also get this when meeting people I am dying to meet. Because I am, but still wish it was all over, and I would not be looking forward to embarassing myself by laughing too loudly/not at all/ too much/ at the wrong things/ etc. (Can you hear the PLEASE LIKE ME ad nauseam backdrop?)

In the end, it's a head thing, I watch myself and cringe, and feel awful, like I might be "not cool enough". While it is so cool NOT to be cool. But also, because it is SO IMPORTANT TO ME.

Anyway, totally get ya. And then speaking in front of these masses (10 people can be masses). WOAH.

[Kelsey]

I completely understand what you're trying to say and I am the same species of delicate flower. When I force myself into those situations, I too am very sociable and quite enjoy myself. I do psych myself out so much that I convince myself everyone will hate me, turn around, and throw the buffet-like spread at me.

[Kristin Steiner]

I get that way too. Like I'm the only one in the room that feels like it's the first day of high school all over again. I feel like the geeky girl that once you get to know is really super sweet and nice and eventually becomes BFF with the head cheerleader--last month of senior year. Unfortunately these things don't last four years, otherwise I would totally rule them.

Mostly I just cling on to the first person who's nice to me and stare in awe at all the people having a good time.

@BeingSuper

[zan]

I do believe it was because you were lacking the presence of your personal assistant to escort you to the ladies room. I apologize that my services were unavailable; I shall accompany you to the next one for my regular fee as discussed previously.

[Amanda]

I force myself to go to conferences for my profession and am miserable the entire time. I'm always worried I'm going to blurt out something completely socially unacceptable!

[Andi]

Last month, I went to a conference a my church. Now, I'm typically a social person. I was a theatre kid once upon a time, and being in front of people has never frightened me. But OH MY GOD there were so many of them. I knew no one, and my confident self became, like you said, a shaking Chihuahua. All of a sudden, there was this overhwhelming BOOM in my head screaming "THEY'RE ALL GOING TO THINK YOU'RE A PHONY!!!" Which, you know, I'm not....but I guess the voices in my head didn't get that memo. I left a couple hours early because of the shakes and the nasuea.

So, yes, I understand. And I'm sorry. It sucks.

[Jen]

Your descriptions of how you feel at these conferences reminds me of a book that my husband's family has been reading called The Introvert Advantage; it talks about such feelings being common among introverts. It also talks (as you'd guess from the title) about the advantages of being an introvert. In any event, though you may not feel totally introverted all the time (normal for introverts), you might still be introverted (says the book) if you find large crowds overwhelming and if you tend to get energy from being alone or with a few friends/family.

Anywho. Sounds normal to me. I go to a fair number of conferences, and they can be really overwhelming--lots of new people, many of whom seem (or act as though) they were born to attend such things and be totally brilliant at them, totally at ease, and never nervous or timid. Everyone has at least moments of social anxiety, though. I do--cocktail parties are harder for me than conferences (do you join little clusters of people already talking or is that rude? I never know)--but after several years of going to the same conferences, I have a group of acquaintances that I see, and it helps to have friendly faces in the crowds.

[Gilamonstre]

You are eloquently describing what conferences were like for me at the beginning. It took a couple of years, and 10-12 conferences (talk about trial by fire, but my career required that I go to all of them) before something clicked and all of a sudden all those people were exhilarating instead of overwhelming. (ok, they're still a little overwhelming, but in a way that I now enjoy).

Give it time. Conferences are overwhelming by nature. All those people, all that information, all that activity, everyone I have ever spoken to has started off overwhelmed. Once you develop a routine (besides the hiding in the hotel room part, which I still do just less so) you'll be fine.

[Andrea]

I feel ya. But I'm a natural introvert in an extrovert's body. I can be outgoing (outgoing, theater parents taught me that), but I don't like to be on my own at huge places with tons of people I don't know. And I need some alone time to recharge. I'd be hiding in my hotel room too.

[Daddy Scratches]

Having never before met a single person there (OK, I actually met ONE person before, once, months ago), and being one of the only men on hand at an almost-entirely female event, and being socially awkward and anxious to begin with, I can say that I totally relate. I had to basically stand in the mirror and pep-talk myself into going downstairs for the Mad Men party.

Not sure I'm conference material. I was planning on BlogHer, but I think Mom 2.0 might have been enough for me.

But as for you: it was wonderful meeting you in person, and you rocked your panel, to be sure. I would not have expected to read what you wrote above ... and yet, I know just where you're coming from.

[Harriet M. Welsch]

As an academic, I go to a lot of conferences and they are all exactly like that for me. I think part of it is that in my normal work day I spend so much time alone writing and researching. When I got to a conference, it's exhilarating to be around so many people, particularly the ones I know and like and the ones who have really thought-provoking things to say. But I can't really handle it and spend a lot of time in my room trying to regain my equilibrium. It does get easier the more I do it, but it doesn't go away.

[Kate]

You've described it beautifully. Like the posters above, I experience conferences the just as you described, except with more social retardation thrown in for sh!ts and giggles (or total humiliation, take your pick).

I ended up speaking on a panel one time without warning (I was asked to do so - I didn't just climb on up there of my own volition), which went just fine.

At the dinner afterward? I told the stodgy business associates at my table that I had been to a Superman conference and a BDSM conference.

Yes. I. did. Because I am a clueless social moron who was so relieved at getting through with that panel that I blurted out whatever popped into my head.

[Kate]

I don't know where the extra "the" came from. I need more sleep.

[QueenSarah]

ZOMG! A fellow Delicate Flower! So weird, I do enjoy the few conferences I attend for work, but spend too much time "shaking like a rained-on chihuahua".

And here I thought it was only me. Thank Heavens for all you other misfits!

[JustLinda]

I have never gone to one of these conferences. While you might be a Chihuahua in the rain (I had to go copy and paste that word, because I had no idea how to spell it!), I am a Chihuahua cowering under the bed.

I too am seen as a brave and confident person, but I don't know how to take myself THERE. I'm just not THAT brave.

I would love to go. But there needs to be a buddy-system of some sort.

My problem is I don't even know how to engage a buddy! I'm all jokey-jokey on blogs but I don't know how to go beyond that. Or even if I want to. OK, I want to (except when I don't).

There needs to be a Blogging Chicks Big Sister Little Sister program. Now the truth is that I may be older and, well, bigger than MANY bloggers out there but I'm definitely a little sister. I need someone to hold my hand.

And then I would cut my hair just like hers and change my name and copy her wardrobe. NO! I totally would not do that! I swear!

I'm going back under my bed. It's safer there.

[nelking]

I am you. Can't do small talk chit chat,or work a room but can easily get up in front of many people and talk their ears off.

Selective introversion. What I've realized now is that well, everyone else needs to get over it. Buddying up with a "room worker" can be good, but I get it, at some point you have to take a break, soak it in, process and recharge.

My advice stop beating yourself up, others in that room are just like you.

[Emily]

From the look of these comments, you are definitely not alone! I once attended a tradeshow by myself and I swear I called my husband almost every half hour telling him how uncomfortable I felt. I love the social scene, love chatting with women but I'll be danged if I find it easy. And for those women who appear to mingle at conferences with ease? Perhaps they're faking it too!

[Mir]

I did better at this one (I think because of the smaller size) than I typically do at such events, but I think for many of us whose day-to-day is fairly solitary, it's just a LOT. It really is. No shame or even weirdness in that, truly.

(P.S. I am now completely convinced that you hate me, because you didn't mention me in this post.) (Kidding! Lord, I'm kidding.)

[Julie]

Yes, yes, yes. When I read this post I dashed off to find the link to an article in Atlantic Monthly a few years back -- my husband loves to trot it out to explain the phenomenon of introversion, since most extroverts just don't get it. I'm so happy to see so many of the other commenters here talking about introversion too. I'm the same way -- I can happily talk with close friends for hours, or get up in front of a room full of people and talk comfortably, but if I have to schmooze or make chit-chat cocktail-party-style, I suddenly have the social skills of a frightened three-year-old. I'm a classic introvert (with a healthy dash of good old social anxiety to boot, lucky me.) It's not that I don't like being social, it's just that I find it exhausting, and I have to be alone afterward to recharge.

Here's the link. He's written other good things on the same topic.http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200303/rauch

[Jana]

I second most of what all of the other introverts have said, except that I also don't like public speaking (not quite phobic, but used to be).

Anyway, I recently ran across this blog from Psychology Today called The Introvert's Corner: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-introverts-corner/

[torrie]

I felt totally awkward and like I didn't belong there, which I mean, I probably didn't- I am not an internet rock star like you. With that said, you looked fantastic, and it was great seeing you, as always.

[j]

My sweating and nausea comes AFTER almost every interaction as I relive the conversation in my head over and over and cannot. believe. what. I. just. said.

[Finola]

I am exactly the same way. When I am at a conference, I have a constant headache and stomach knots, and the best part is the hotel room. My take on things is that most bloggers are introverted, and so the energy of big crowds is overwhelming. We blog because we can interact with people, and yet still be alone at home.I'll bet a lot of people at that conference felt the same as you - I know I would have had I been there.

[Emma]

My alter ego, Donna, is social, confident and charming. I turn her "on" in these situations, and I just observe. A glass of wine or a xanax never hurt, either.

[cindy w]

I've been to a grand total of 2 blogging conferences, and: YES. In my ordinary life, I am totally not a wallflower. I am loud, I am outgoing, I'm even (according to some people) somewhat funny. But stick me in a room with 100+ other bloggers and suddenly I'm the dorky new girl having her first day at high school trying to figure out which kids I'm supposed to sit with at lunchtime. It's agonizing. And I don't understand why.

But, you know, eventually you find your little "group" and it's all fun and easy after that. It's mostly just the first day that sucks for me.