05 Dec Are your butterflies flying in formation?
If you gave people a choice between public speaking and listening to nails on a chalkboard for an hour, most would gladly pick the chalkboard. Offer alternatives like walking barefoot through a field of Legos or sitting in a room full of terrifying clowns, and public speaking would still lose.
Fifteen years ago, I would’ve chosen any of the above—and probably added sleeping in a bed full of snakes for good measure—over giving a talk.
And for good reason: I was terrible at it. My first real attempt, a presentation during graduate school at an academic conference, was a disaster. My voice shot up so high it sounded like I’d inhaled helium. My face turned beet red, my hands visibly shook, and I barely got the words out. Someone in the audience even brought me a glass of water and whispered, “Are you okay?” Honestly, I was not.
Fast forward, and in one of life’s unexpected twists, public speaking is now what I do. People often ask how I became comfortable on stage, and while practice is part of the answer, there was also a moment of unexpected wisdom that changed everything.
It was my first big talk with a large corporation, speaking about skills to support patient engagement. A voice boomed through the ballroom, announcing that the program would begin in one minute and asking attendees to take their seats. The music swelled, and the audience buzzed with conversation. Meanwhile, backstage, I was trying to remember how to breathe. An AV tech leaned in to check my microphone and smiled. “Are your butterflies flying in formation?” he asked casually.
That question stopped me. I paused, picturing all the nervous energy inside me—sweaty palms, racing heart, shaky breath—not as chaos but as something purposeful. Instead of a panicked swarm, I imagined those butterflies aligning into graceful, intentional flight. Suddenly, I was calm, focused, and ready.
Here’s the science behind it: Our brains are quick to label signals of high arousal, like a racing heart or shaky hands, as “anxiety” because that’s a familiar and convenient explanation. When we experience these physical sensations, it often feels like our emotions take over automatically. But those sensations don’t have to mean panic. They are just our bodies preparing for action, gearing up for uncertainty.
The key is in how we perceive and interpret those signals. If we change the meaning we attach to them, we can change how we feel. It’s not just about labeling sensations in a new way; it’s about assigning a different meaning to those sensations so that we experience a different emotion. The physical sensations don’t change—they don’t need to—but the way we understand them does.
That’s what the AV tech reminded me in such a simple and powerful way. I didn’t have to see those butterflies as panic; I could view them as excitement and readiness.
Now, every time I feel those butterflies, I imagine them flying in formation, steady and beautiful. Instead of holding me back, they carry me forward every single time.