Choosing to Rise Instead of Run
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| Copyright: Sanjay Basu |
From Stammer to Stage
There are two kinds of people in this world: those who, when faced with adversity, Forget Everything And Run, and those who Face Everything And Rise. I’d love to say I was always the latter, the valiant hero staring down fear with unwavering resolve, but that would be a lie. No, for most of my early life, I was an Olympic-level sprinter in the Forget Everything And Run category—especially when it came to speaking in public.
For as long as I can remember, I have stammered. Not in the charming, Colin Firth-playing-King-George-VI sort of way. No, my stammer was the kind that turned simple classroom recitations into battlefields of humiliation, where every sentence felt like climbing a mountain with a boulder strapped to my tongue. School presentations? A nightmare. Group discussions? Avoided like a plague. The mere thought of being called on by a teacher sent a cold sweat down my spine.
In college, things weren’t much better. I had a mind full of ideas, arguments, and counterpoints, but they were trapped behind the bottleneck of my speech. I dreaded introductions. Icebreaker games were the bane of my existence. “Say your name and one interesting fact about yourself!” they’d say. And there I was, struggling to get past the first syllable while everyone else had already moved on to discussing their hobbies and summer vacations.
So, how did I go from that to standing on conference stages, delivering technical talks, leading corporate discussions, and—God forbid—actually enjoying it?
The answer: I stopped running.
You see, fear is a tricky little beast. It grows when you feed it, when you avoid it, when you let it dictate the borders of your life. Every time I dodged an opportunity to speak, my fear became stronger, my stammer more pronounced. But something shifted when I realized that running away wasn’t helping—it was just reinforcing the belief that I couldn’t do it.
The real turning point came when I stepped into corporate leadership. In the world of high-stakes meetings, strategic decisions, and fast-talking executives, stammering wasn’t exactly a sought-after skill. I couldn’t just sit in the back and hope no one noticed me. I had to speak, lead, and make myself heard. And the only way forward was through. I started small. Speaking up in meetings, even if my words stumbled. Practicing in front of the mirror, recording myself, forcing myself to listen to my own voice without cringing. I learned techniques, slowed down my pace, focused on breathing. I found that when I truly believed in what I was saying, my stammer lost its grip. And most importantly, I stopped seeing it as a flaw. It was part of me, yes, but it didn’t have to define me.
Fast forward to today, and I now give talks at conferences and meetups. Me. The kid who once prayed for the floor to swallow him during oral exams. The same person who once dodged every speech opportunity like Neo dodging bullets in The Matrix. The best part? I’ve found that people don’t remember the moments I stammer. They remember the substance of what I say. And that’s the lesson I wish I could go back and tell my younger self: Your fear only has power as long as you let it stop you.
So, when faced with fear, you have two choices: Forget Everything And Run or Face Everything And Rise. I’ve lived both. And trust me, the latter is the only one worth choosing.
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