Amy Heidbreder

As a Type 1 Perfectionist, there is nothing quite as anxiety inducing as a mistake. Perfectionists are their own worst critic. I recall times in my life mulling over the most trivial of blunders for weeks, months, sometimes years. It could be over a decade later that the memory of a past error would resurface in my mind, paralyzing me for a second. In those moments, I would often shake a limb or slap my leg to bring me back to the present. “Nobody remembers that time you tripped over a hole in the grass in 10^th grade,” I tell myself.

One of the most embarrassing moments I ever recall in my life happened as a University student during an oral presentation for an advanced political science course. I believe it was a course on International Relations. Being a student in the Honors College, it was required of me to take more advanced courses in areas like math, political science, or English. Here I found myself, an art major, in a class filled by ONLY pre-law students. Talk about a fish out of water. The assignments for this particular course were mainly written, but the final paper, the crowning gem of these written assignments, also had to be orally presented with PowerPoint slides and everything. Thankfully, the oral presentation was graded just on completion, because never have I ever bombed a presentation so bad in my life. Good Lord I got lost! It was the only night class I ever took. I chalk it up to that to make me feel better.

Written communication has always been my savior. In that same class, with the same argument, I got an A on the paper. Students turned in their chairs in shock, at how I—the art major—outdid them—the law student—on the paper. Can all communication just be written? I kid, of course. My oral graces, or lack there-of, are quite possibly my greatest life pain point. It is why new friends or strangers typically view me as quiet or unfriendly. I’m slow to open up and speak for risk of looking like an idiot. In what I do for a living, my problem is compounded. I’m always swimming in an immense amount of detail and technical problems, using a different side of my brain than I use for speaking. I find sometimes emerging from an intense mess of code and transferring from technical skills to social skills can leave me feeling on my heals. In those cases, my awkwardness is far more prominent.

My greatest success at speaking is best done relaxed, prepared and without fear of judgement. There’s a level of trust I feel I need to achieve with a person before getting chatty. My greatest verbal faux pas have gotten me odd looks, have turned into rousing embarrassing laughter before an entire classroom, have gotten me cussed at, have lost me friends in real life or social media, and have even gotten me reported to authority—principal, boss, HR. And one of those instances was just an awkward attempt at getting someone to smile. Lawd I need help!

Perhaps this happens to everyone. It’s just that being a perfectionist, every misstep resonates with me a little bit more. Speaking before people is one of my greatest fears, and I’m not the only one. According to an article written by the National Social Anxiety Center,

the National Institute of Mental Health reports that public speaking anxiety, or glossophobia, affects about 73% of the population. The underlying fear is judgment or negative evaluation by others. Public speaking anxiety is considered a social anxiety disorder.

https://nationalsocialanxietycenter.com/2017/02/20/public-speaking-and-fear-of-brain-freezes/

The article also mentions,

the fear of public speaking is the most common phobia ahead of death, spiders or heights.

Consider that for just a moment. Pause, and digest that statement. Most people fear public speaking over death, expressly meaning people would rather die than be judged.

That statement at face value is shocking. However, I find it to be true, because I’m one of those people. There’s an old video of me on stage just crying at my first ballet recital. The pressure of performing in front of people and the inherent anxiety that comes with that are not things I was naturally predisposed to handle. I’ve over time learned to perform through show ring nerves and accept robust criticism in the studio, but still anxiety pins me at times, especially when I have to speak. It most often happens in situations where I feel a level of judgement, where the person evaluating my performance is purposefully looking for flaws. There is no room for grace, only for tallying the missed step, the added stride, the misspoken word. Even more frightening is when occasionally a witness is brought in to also evaluate your flaws, tipping the scale even more in favor of over analysis. I mean, do I really need an entire panel of professors telling me this one piece is weak in composition?

This is an area I know I can grow in. I’m a faith filled person and know not all hope is lost. In fact, in that same semester I failed at presenting in my International Relations class, I was commended for my part in presenting an interior design concept for a project we worked on with the Houston Food Bank. I was chosen by the group I worked with to lead the presentation of our concept to the CEO of the food bank. I sucked down my paralyzing nerves and did it. Maybe it’s just that we were all too scared, and I was the only one with guts enough to try.

Part of this is being at peace with failing every once in a while, and also being at peace with not pleasing everybody. As you work to grow and stretch in areas you’re weak in, you’re going to stumble and fall, at times flat out failing. And in life, there will be people who are inclined to get hung up on your flaws. I could spend a lifetime trying to convince these people my intent, but it would take just that, a lifetime. The more I spoke, the more mistakes I’d make and here we would be again at square one, my over-evaluated awkwardness making me more awkward in a vicious cycle of stiffness, seemingly dramatic pauses and frazzled stuttering. And as I try to grapple with anxiety paralyzing what little gracefulness I have, out pops the wrong word or phrase, and bouncing down the staircase I go, eliminating any forward progress. The thing is, a person inclined to look for flaws, is going to find flaws. We can’t allow the flaw seekers and the fear of mistakes keep us from trying.

I look back to where I’ve come from and I see so much growth, especially since those oral presentations in college. I’m not perfect, even if my Type 1 Perfectionist brain wants me to be. I’m human. Flaws, pain and mistake making are how we grow. Some mistakes are more humiliating than others, but every one of them, especially those made with good intent, are beautiful. They’re masterful ways of revealing to us our weak spots and encouraging us to be better friends, better listeners, better riders, better managers.

Well intended mistakes happen, and if there’s anything I’m committed to as a leader, it’s to help people feel safe when stretching and growing. I hope that I never make someone feel judged in tripping and stumbling in a weak area of theirs. I’ll of course bring to light why it happened and encourage them to try again until we get it right. I’m also committed to not just seeing the negative. Of course negative is a part of life, but everyday we get up, we get on our horse, we get to our jobs, we’re at least trying, and there’s something so positive to just trying.

I was listening to a message delivered by Bishop Dale Bronner recently, and he said something that stuck with me. He said something to the effect, winners aren’t people who always win; winners aren’t people who never face adversity; winners are people who never quit. And if there’s anything I do, even in the most embarrassing of situations, it definitely is not quit. I still walked into that International Relations class following my presentation. I showed up.

I will always show up with the mindset of correcting a mistake no matter what, no matter how embarrassing and no matter for whom, whether it be my best friend or someone out to get me. We’re all in this game of life together. I’m grateful for every misstep brought to light, that is making me a better me. I am beautifully imperfect, and I’m okay with that.