“Don’t feel nervous!”

The advice I dislike the most on the topic of communication all falls into a common category, which is basically, “Don’t feel nervous!”

The other versions of this are:

Here’s the problem. When we say “don’t feel that way,” it does not help. The fact of the matter is that they do feel that way, and to help, you have to start from there. When we say “don’t be nervous,” we’re compounding the problem. Now the nervous person knows that they’re wrong to feel that way, and that we certainly wouldn’t be nervous if we were in the same position. Now on top of being nervous, they feel bad about it, and they’re going to beat themselves up for this apparent character flaw.

Stop all this. We feel how we feel. We have to start from there.

A few years ago I was delivering the keynote at a conference, and that morning I had the worst attack of nerves I’ve ever experienced. I couldn’t eat, I didn’t want to talk, I couldn’t read or prepare. I was deep in the “I am sure I will screw this up” well.

It so happened that I was with my parents and several colleagues I’m very close to. I had terrific support and expertise—unconditional love from my parents and close-at-hand reminders from my team about everything we know to do to mitigate anxiety. Even so, I found my inner monologue going something like this:

In other words, I was falling into the trap of making myself feel bad about feeling bad, and slipping right into a default intention (“I want to get this over with”) into the bargain.

This story has a happy ending. I pulled out my whole toolkit—breathing, visualization, grounding into my positive intention, listening to “Africa” by Toto at top volume in the car on the way to the venue—and by the time we got there I was feeling a little better, almost normal. Once I was miked up and standing in the wings, I was starting to get really excited. And when I walked out and took the stage, it all came together.

I had everything I needed to overcome this crisis of confidence. Most people who feel the way I felt don’t. They try to muscle through it. Some well-meaning soul nearby tries to pep them up, “You’ll be great! You don’t need to be nervous.” This slips off of them; they can’t even hear it. All they can hear at this point is their own voice, speaking words of regret for every single life choice that led them to this moment in time.

If you’re the well-meaning person nearby, what can you do? You can tell the person that it’s normal to be nervous. To sit with that feeling and hold it loosely. To notice where they feel it in their body. To breathe, and clear their mind of the voice inside that is talking to them. To come up with a deliberate, positive intention to replace the default one that has taken hold.