Back from Texas
February 22, 2010So 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.
Reader Comments (63)
I don't have your level of blog fame, but I have my own little level, and when I (rarely) attend blogger functions I always feel nervous that people will be disappointed by the reality of me. I mean - I'm friendly and pretty genuine, but I'm not a stand-up comic, and I'm always pretty sure that is what they are expecting.
On the other hand I LOVE to speak in public, because I've had time to think about what I want to say - working from a script, more or less.
I will probably be a puddle on the floor WRECK at BlogHer. (Although no-one there will know me from Adam, so actually - I'll probably be fine.)
And - LONGEST COMMENT EVER - I'M SORRY - I just feel compelled to say that as much as I'm teasing you on twitter - you know I'm not really STALKING you at BlogHer 2010, right? (Of course you do.) (I think.) So DO NOT FEAR FOR YOUR SAFETY. But I will have to come collect some sort of awkward hug. It is unfortunately unavoidable.
I did go to a VERY small gathering in NYC this year for Huggies, we all had our smallest children, and it was GREAT. I think the small group helped, and somehow all of us having our kids helped ease the anxiety I normally felt because I was more worried about whether my kid hit anyone else's.
My point? I feel ya. I do. If you find the cure? Share it, please?
I am so with you.
Sadie at heyMamas
And speaking of lovely, you rank at the top for me in that regard as well.
I haven't been to one in years, as I choose not to humiliate myself. I have dreamed of going to Blogher or this Mom 2.0, but cannot muster the courage. What's UP with that?
A few years ago now, I went to a writer's group (a group! not even a full-blown conference! this thing was in a bookstore, and I had a delicious coffee in my hand). In the moments before, and during, all the way up until I met a kindred soul there after it was all over, I was terrified. Terrified someone would talk to me. Terrified no one would. Terrified that I'd be asked a question and then judged on the answer. Terrified that I'd somehow magically and instantly be exposed for the fraud that I am (a fear that I do not know why, but I carry everywhere and in many aspects of my life despite success). Also, the low-grade nausea.
This has happened for writer meetings, at the beginning of each new season of the same league of badminton and tennis with the same freaking people I knew for years, on the first day of many classes and when I travel with people (close friends particularly) for the first time.
So yeah. Um. I get the sweats and the nausea, and then later on... I think back and edit those parts out, and find that I liked going and enjoyed myself so much that I resolve to do it again despite those awful jitters. So I go again. If the activities are familiar, the intensity of the negative aspects of anticipation decreases.
The kicker? I'm not a particularly shy person, nor am I socially awkward. It's all that internal monologue. No one knows about it, and it serves to... what. Torture me? Who knows. It's like the internal critic that sits on my shoulder when I edit your own work as I write it. It's sometimes difficult to turn that asshole off.
Did you eat before you ventured out into the conference room?
I happen to also be an extrovert (only 15% of HSPs - I swear I'm not making this up! - are). So I have to protect myself from myself. I'm a jittery, vacuous mess by the end of these things.
But I do think Mom 2.0 was a much better fit for me. BlogHer was... too much.
Wait, this isn't my blog!
It was lovely to meet you and I barely even noticed the puddle you left behind, you cute lil' chihuahua.
It took 2 years of practice, but I've found what works for me.
First, I had to quit being MAD at myself for being the way I am. It just fed the cycle.
So, after working on accepting who I am, we went on to learn that it's in the DNA, the anxiety gene, not my fault BUT I can do this.
So, I learned to 1. anticipate 2. accept that it'll happen and not fight it 3. pretty soon, after I quit fearing it, it didn't scare me.
It took 2 years, but I now know what's coming, let it wash over me, realize it's in my genetic make up, and ride it out.
OH: the therapist did offer anti anxiety meds. I tried those: paxil, then zoloft. For some reason--who knows--these meds kicked the anxiety into high gear. Something fierce, not good, not good at all.But, they may work for you. Some people swear by them. I've just learned to take a deep breath, and realize it's me. May try the meds again if these coping skills quit helping.
But I SO know what you're talking about. Funny fact: It's gene #32, that carries anxiety.
Yeah, I know how you feel. Next time we can hide in your room together. With the daiquiris...
Or maybe I just need counseling.
The trick, mostly, is to ask people questions about themselves or their business and you won't have to talk much at all after that! :)
But public speaking? Hate. Shivers. Ugh.
*I don't know if this helps at ALL, but - I have discovered my personality is "INFJ" which is the same personality as Jerry Seinfeld.
If you think about it - he is very 'at-ease' as a stand-up comedian/presenter or on TV, but, he is really Not an extroverted person. As he said on the show 'Seinfeld' once (I'm paraphrasing), "Why would anyone have a house party? A bunch of people who don't even know each other, expected to mingle?"
I'm pretty extroverted in conference settings (lots of years of practice as a former academic perhaps) but each day I did need to retreat to the peaceful silence of my room for an hour to recover from the sensory overload. And once I got home, I snuggled my daughter and promptly passed out on the couch for a couple of hours. Totally SPENT.
-Christine