Pink and Pearls: The night I became a storyteller

Although it's taken me a few days to post about it, Tuesday night's show was, if I could put it into only one word: AMAZING. I knew I would be proud of myself for doing it. I knew I would be relieved when it was over. I knew it would be a wonderful thing. All of those things proved true. But it was so much more. It was a lifechanger.
I had been working for months with The Moth. Through emails and phone sessions I worked on my story, the one I would tell Tuesday night - without notes and for 10 minutes. Because there's so much to my "story" - dealing with the breast cancer and planning my wedding, PLUS other stuff, we had to narrow it down and pick out bits and pieces. And put together what would make the best story for the event. In an order that would make sense. After months of phone conversations and emails I finally met the team I was working with this past Monday night. We had a rehearsal, and then went out to dinner in D.C. And I met representatives from Philips Healthcare, who also were sponsoring the event. (Description here: "Getting it off our chests: stories from breast cancer survivors." Breast cancer survival stories are as different as the women who live them. Join Philips Healthcare and The Moth to hear three unexpected, funny, poignant and ultimately inspiring tales of discovery, treatment and triumph.This live storytelling event will feature tellers Sally Barnes, Christine Delucchi and Marjorie Stromberg Miller.
It will be hosted by Ophira Eisenberg, a stand-up comic, storyteller, author and host of NPR's Ask Me Another. She performs stand-up regularly at comedy clubs in New York City, and headlines across the US, Canada and Europe.
The Moth is an acclaimed not-for-profit organization dedicated to the art and craft of storytelling, and a recipient of a 2012 John D. and Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation MacArthur Award for Creative & Effective Institutions. Through its ongoing programs, The Moth has presented more than three thousand stories, told live and without notes, to standing-room-only crowds worldwide. The Moth podcast is downloaded more than 15 million times a year.
Philips Healthcare is a diversified health and well-being company, focused on improving people's lives through timely innovations.Philips integrates technologies and design into people-centric solutions, based on fundamental customer insights and the brand promise of "sense and simplicity.")
And I also met the other two storytellers that night. After only a few hours of knowing them, I felt like we had been friends for life.
I cannot even begin to describe what it was like getting to know these women - the storytellers, and representatives from The Moth and Philips, and event host and comedian Ophira Eisenberg. We talked and laughed all night. These women were real, passionate and warm. I felt like when I talked to them (and during rehearsal) I was talking INTO their hearts.
And the next evening was the show. I had been nervous for a while. But I was especially nervous all day Tuesday. I couldn't eat, and couldn't think about anything but the show. Speaking in public is one of my biggest fears. I kept telling myself I would be fine. My family and friends would be in the audience, and they KNOW me and love me. I was ready. I had been working on my story for months, and had pretty much memorized everything I was going to say. And after all, it was MY story. I knew it best. If I messed up, nobody would even know. I could improvise. That's the whole point. You go up there, no script, and talk. You tell your story in the order (and using the bullet points) you worked on with The Moth. But I was terrified. Absolutely terrified. Because I knew, even as much as I KNEW my OWN story, once I get in front of a group of people, I could blank and forget everything. Heck, I even got nervous practicing in front of the mirror. I prepared and prepared and prepared. I ran over my story in my mind and in the shower in the two days leading up to it. I pretty much memorized exactly what I was going to say. It was the only way I could feel I was ready.
Tuesday I went through many different emotions. Lots of excitement at knowing I would see my family and friends, and what I was doing was so amazing, and nervousness knowing I would be telling this very personal part of my life in front of 220-some people, and then pride that I was doing exactly what I had wanted to do - tell my story. Tell it for me, and for other women. I had wanted this so bad. And it was actually happening. When I thought of it that way, the scary-ness got pushed aside. I had to remember what this was all about, after all. I had to remember that this was important to me. I had to remember I wanted to touch lives. And then, naturally, the scary-ness came back. It always does, after all.
But The Moth and Philips teams and Ophira, and the other storytellers - Chris and Sally - inspired and encouraged me and helped put me at ease. I'll never forget Sally giving me a wink backstage, before we went out there, to assure me I was going to do great, or her squeezing my hand, as we sat in the first row, before I went up there. She said, "you're going to do so great. I can't wait to hear you talk."
Before people went into the theater there was a little reception beforehand, where food and drinks were being served. We were all standing out there talking with our friends and family, and I literally felt like I had a knot in my stomach. I have heard that expression millions of times, but have never actually felt it until then. I had the butterflies. The jittery, nervous stomach. I get that all the time. Sometimes, even coffee does it. But then I felt I had a knot. And not only did I have a knot, but the knot, itself, was forming, and then punching another knot. It was a knot within a knot. A knot punching a knot. And then I told myself to breathe.
I was the last to tell my story. As Sally and Chris went, I watched and listened to them. I cried and laughed at their stories. I was so, so nervous. As each one finished I knew my turn was coming. I kept picturing myself getting nervous up there. It's funny - I think I was actually more nervous about getting nervous than actually telling my story. I kept picturing myself getting that nervous feeling, and that scared me more than anything.
There are two great things about the theater and the format of Tuesday's show that really helped me. Number one: though there were lots of people there, it didn't FEEL like it because of how the theater was set up. It was circular, so it felt very intimate. And number two, and perhaps the most important: once you're up there, you can't see A THING. The spotlight is on you and the audience is dark. I literally saw nothing. No faces, no people. It was like I was talking into blackness. It helped tremendously because I could pretend, instead of talking to 220 people, I was talking to nobody.
Anyway - I'm waiting, nervous, nervous, nervous and it's finally my turn. Ophira introduces me and I go up there, heels clanking up the steps. It's funny, as soon as I start walking I don't feel nervous. I get up there, and Ophira adjusts the microphone. I know I just have to get my first sentence out, and I'll be fine. Because once I say my first sentence, the rest willl come. And I do, and it did.
I start talking. My mouth is a little dry. I'm looking into darkness. And then it's over. 10 minutes. Or however long it really took. Once I start, I'm fine. The audience laughs at the parts I'm expecting them to, and I even improvise a little bit. But I don't go off track once, nor do I forget anything. I say the important lines the way I rehearsed. My voice doesn't shake like I was scared it would. My knees don't buckle like I was scared they would. I just talk. Calmly. And into darkness. And it's done. And it's SUCH a relief.
That night I became a storyteller.
I realized one important thing that night about myself: that I actually get more scared of getting scared than the actual thing that I'm doing. Take my wedding for example. One thing I was so nervous about was walking down the aisle because I kept imagining myself tripping and falling all over my dress. And I would trip and fall BECAUSE I was nervous. There was so much that could go wrong from being jittery. My feet could fly out of my shoes, I could trip over my (very) long train, I could drop my bouquet, etc. etc. etc. But as soon as I started walking down the aisle, something came over me. I was like in a dream. I was floating, very smoothly. Nothing - hands or legs- shook. I was calm and composed.
Same thing Tuesday night. As soon as I walked onto that stage, a calmness came over me. I was outside of myself. It just happened.
So I have to remember I get more nervous about GETTING NERVOUS than the actual event or act. Funny, isn't it?
This post is getting long and my neck is starting to hurt so I'm going to tie it all up. I just want to, again, thank The Moth and Philips and Ophira and Chris and Sally for making, and allowing, this to happen. For helping me to tell my story. For giving me a chance in the spotlight. For encouraging me and supporting me and listening to me. For crying during my rehearsal. For holding my hand through this. For working with me tirelessly (Kate Tellers!) and always believing I could do this. And to my friends and family who came Tuesday night. It meant the world to me, and I couldn't have done this without you. This was a lifechanging event. It allowed me to meet some of the most incredible women on earth.
So yes, I was right. I was happy I did it. I knew I would be proud of myself. I knew it would be amazing.
THANK YOU. I could write and write and write but this blog post could never do it justice. The event and how I felt and how I feel. Usually I'm good with words (I'm a writer, after all!) but life is funny sometimes in that you can't always write how you feel. Despite this super long post, this is one of those times. Words can't do it justice. All I can say is I'm so glad I did this, and thank you to everyone for your support. And I miss you already, Sally and Chris.