Public Speaking Anxiety: Here’s the Real Reason You Froze

Why You Freeze Up When You Speak Up

You ever feel like your throat tightens the moment it’s your turn to speak? Like you’re about to give a presentation, and suddenly you forget how to form sentences? That’s not just nerves. That’s your body reacting to pressure — the kind it can’t distinguish from actual danger.

This isn’t just about stage fright.

This is about adjudication. That fear of being misread, misunderstood, or straight-up rejected.

And here’s the twist: that anxiety might actually be a superpower—one you’re reading wrong. Watch the video for more or scroll down to read the rest of the article.

Are you terrified of speaking in front of an audience? Don’t let fear take over! Public speaking anxiety isn’t just nerves — it’s your body reacting like you’re in danger. But you’re not. And you can retrain that reaction. In this episode, we break down what’s really behind the fear of public speaking — from the judgment you're afraid of to the physical response you can’t control — and how to take your power back. Whether you love speaking but freeze on stage, or hate it but can’t avoid it, this will help you manage the moment and speak with confidence. You’ll learn: -How to reset your mindset before a speech -Tricks to handle your body’s panic response -Why memorizing makes anxiety worse — and what to do instead -A two-step approach to speaking that works for anyone

The Real Reason You Freeze

It’s easy to think public speaking anxiety only happens when you’re unprepared. But that’s not true. I’ve gone on stage to speak in front of thirty thousand people and still felt it. Doesn’t matter if it’s a crowd of 5 or 500—your body will still hit you with the same “are you sure about this?” energy.

You get the sweaty palms.

The shallow breathing.

The slight tremble in your voice.

Maybe your knees feel weak, your hands start moving more than usual, and everything you rehearsed is suddenly locked behind a wall.

And if you wear a watch that tracks your vitals like I do? You’ll see it: your heart rate spikes. You’re standing still, just waiting to talk, and your heart’s beating like you’re mid-sprint.

That’s not a sign that you’re unprepared.

That’s your nervous system thinking you’re being hunted.

It’s wrong. But it’s consistent.

So instead of treating that reaction like a failure, it’s time to treat it like what it actually is: a signal. A sign that this moment matters. That you’re awake. That your brain is firing up, not breaking down.

You Don’t Have to Be a Robot to Be Confident

Confidence isn’t what happens when fear disappears. Confidence is what shows up when you move anyway.

I still feel the nerves. They don’t go away. I’ve just made room for them. I know they’re going to be there, but I also know they’ll level out. And for me, that’s always how it goes.

The start? High anxiety.

The middle? Flow state.

The end? Low-key sadness, because I don’t want it to be over.

The key is knowing that the nerves will shift—but only if you don’t freeze up and make them your whole story.

Practical Steps (Direct From the Field of Personal Experience)

1. Acknowledge the Physical Symptoms — Don’t Fight Them

Your body is not betraying you.

When I check my watch before speaking, my heart rate goes up by 40 beats per minute. That’s real. It’s not mental — it’s physical. My body is reacting like I just jogged a few blocks.

But I’m not jogging. I’m about to talk.

This is important: Your body does this because it thinks it’s helping. So instead of trying to “calm down,” start translating the symptoms as fuel.

“This tension in my chest? That’s just my body getting me ready to engage.”

This shift in mindset doesn’t remove the nerves—but it does remove the shame. And that changes everything.

2. Start With Two Sentences You Can’t Mess Up

Don’t overthink your intro.

Forget the pressure to come in hot. Your first two lines are for you, not them.

Say something you’ve said a hundred times. Say something simple. Say something easy. Don’t start with a phrase you’ve never said out loud before. Definitely don’t start with something you hope will sound smart. Start with what’s comfortable.

If the word “Aborigines” is in your first line and you don’t say that word often… change it. Find a phrase that fits your tongue, not just your page.

This is your warm-up. This is your free throw before the game begins. This is your rhythm builder. You’re not trying to hit a three-pointer from half-court with your opening line. You’re just trying to get in motion.

3. Practice Out Loud — With a Non-Judgmental Partner

This is huge: Don’t practice silently. Don’t just write. Speak. Out loud. To a human.

Pick someone who won’t critique your grammar. Someone who will just listen and let you work.

This is where you test your flow.

As you talk, some lines will just come out smooth. They’ll feel right in your body and brain. That’s what you want to jot down—not for memorization, but for reference. These are your anchors. Your bullet points.

Let’s be real: You’re not going to say the same thing the same way twice.

And you shouldn’t try.

Your words will change. That’s fine. But your ideas need to be solid.

Practice until you know the idea in your gut, not just your head. And don’t stop because it sounds “messy.” Messy is where clarity lives.

4. Practice With Someone Who Might Push Back

Once you’re comfortable in a safe space, find someone who might challenge you.

Seriously.

You don’t train for a fight by only sparring with your little cousin. You train with someone who knows how to hit back.

Pick someone whose facial expressions will tell you if you're losing them. Someone who might interrupt. Someone who isn’t afraid to say, “I don’t get that.”

Now you’re preparing for the real world.

When I was practicing, the difference between talking to my mom and talking to my dad was night and day. Mom nods. Dad debates. Both are useful. But you build resilience in the hard room.

5. Stop Saying “That’s Not How My Brain Works”

I’ve heard it a hundred times:

“I’m not a speaker. That’s just not how I’m wired.”

Wrong.

Your brain’s love language is repetition. Not talent. Not charisma. Repetition.

You don’t ride a bike flawlessly the first time. You don’t type 100 words per minute the first time. You don’t nail a speech on your first draft.

But if you do it again—and again—and again?

Your brain builds muscle memory. It creates new paths. It gets familiar with discomfort. And then, the fear starts shrinking. Not because it vanished—but because you grew.

That’s not magic. That’s training.

Download the Full Episode Toolkit

Want help putting this into practice? The toolkit includes:

• A worksheet to help you prep your first two lines

• A breakdown of how to create bullet points from live conversation

• Practice strategies for judgment-safe and judgment-heavy audiences

• A log sheet to track your body’s signals and reframe them

Get it now on the Resources page.

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