“I know your flight was late last night, but we are already wide awake and I don’t want to cancel my plans today. Can I drop the kids to you in the next hour please?”.
I push away the guilty feeling and start looking in a very capsule (too broke and haven’t lost the weight I said I would to warrant buying new clothes) wardrobe for what might fit me and what is semi decent looking that I don’t look like Herman Munster.
I ignore the ‘Are ya dropping the kids this early? God they must be tired’ comment from my well meaning mother as I rush down the stairs trying to find something to put on my feet that aren’t runners.
The event is starting in 10 minutes and it’s going to be at least 20 mins by the time I arrive there.
In the rearview mirror I can spot both kids still half asleep but unbothered really but I start to feel dread anyway as I start to realise I don’t fully know what this event is.
‘Is this a waste of time? Will I be able to keep up? What will I have to do? What if I don’t understand what needs to be done?
What’s everyone going to think when you come back and you have nothing to show for disrupting everyone this morning? Everyone is going to be wrecked all day just because you want to go to some silly event’
My friend is already there and the texts are coming thick and fast. My stomach drops as I walk into the very large ballroom with hundreds of chairs facing a stage and the speaker already speaking to eager faces in the crowd. I abandon trying to find my friend and instead opt for one of the only remaining chairs down the right corner. At least if it’s crap, I can leave without anyone really noticing. I quietly place my bag under the chair when I get a tap on my shoulder from a tall ginger haired man who points me to a free single chair in the very front row. and I start to sweat. F**k!! I’ve probably sat in someone’s chair, I scurry out to the edge of the aisle and he’s smiling and pointing as I move like the hunchback of Notre Dame up the side to what felt like a spotlit chair., I sit with my head chin buried into my chest waiting for the redness to calm.
“Write down in your notebook how you would introduce yourself. What you do and what you would say to someone if you just met them for the first time.”
I’m already stuck and regret is starting to set in for not staying in bed this morning.
‘I’m a sales manager for a finance company but…” and that’s as far as I got in 10 mins.
The statuesque slender man with the kind, smooth voice, dressed in light grey suit and matching hair on stage breaks the deafening silence, “If anyone has any trouble, just pop up your hand and we’ll send someone over to help you”.
I did a kind of a half arsed attempt one with my elbow tucked right under my boob, not above my head and kind of hoping they wouldn’t see me.
Well, they must have had eagle eyes out because within 20 seconds there was a a Bond character kneeling in front of me with his ‘Eric’ name badge expertly handwritten, awide smile and a twinkle in his eye that meant business. “Hey, what’s your name? How can I help you?”
What happened next took us both by surprise and I daresay, gave my new friend a fright. Without warning, the hot tears started to flow. My voice got higher and I started to speak at double speed.
“Here’s what I’ve written down but what I want to say is that I’ve overcome MS. And that I took part in the Channel Four program. And I did good, but I was booted out.”
I removed my eyes from the paper on my knee to see if he had ran yet.
I’m concentrating on seeing if I can reach my handbag, maybe I’ve a rock hard old tissue I can use, I’d even settle a rogue kids sock at this stage. Oh god what must the two people sitting either side of me think. They were all happy with extra elbow room and a place to manspread then up came little miss meltdown to disturb the peace.
Eric is still there, still smiling and leaning in a little closer now. I can hear words and his voice but none of it is sinking in.
The sweat is starting to come under my arms and my back now and I figure if I nod and smile, maybe he’ll give up and I can just sit back and pretend this never happened.
The stage microphone kicks off again and there’s some new people on the stage ‘open with a bang’. If that’s the case, I got top marks! Christ, I could be in bed right now and not making a tit of myself.
‘Turn to the person next to you and practice what you’ve written’. I left my dignity with Eric that morning so I had nothing to lose. The man on my right had made a very quick decision to face away from me and had found his partner and I didn’t blame him!
I held out my right hand to shake hands with an empathic ‘you’re stuck with me look’ when this man magically uses his left hand simultaneously to pull out business cards and asks me to choose one with my free hand. I feel like I have just had a really cool trick performed. I politely take one and make my excuse of not having a reciprocal cool intro or business card.
What is the etiquette I wonder, do I read the card in front of him or just pop it in my bag? This big friendly giant of a man smiles and says ‘Which one did you get?’ Flustered now I look down wondering if this is some weird test.
It has an angel on the front.It’s Archangel Michael.
My new friend is sharing the meaning of this card and my mouth is open. If there was ever a sign, this was it. This was the first time I felt calm all morning. Still.
Maybe it wasn’t so bad being moved from the back of the class to the front.
We are signalled to the stage once more and thankfully I didn’t have to take my turn with the intro – I was more than delighted to hear all about my colorful and comforting card placed carefully now in my otherwise empty wallet.
Attention now on the group of people on stage practicing what to do with your hands and feet took us all the way to lunch. Phew! Halfway there.
Four or Five hundred people leaving a ballroom at the same time to avail of the complimentary lunch in the foyer was working out well for me. I could get lost in the crowd and not be noticed as the woman up the front in the stripy dress who was crying. We had to be back in 20 minutes so no time for too much getting to know each other.
I see Irene and her other pal have secured a little table with 2 fancy looking leather chairs in the back corner of the foyer so I wait in line and pick up a sandwich and a take away coffee cup of soup and join them. Irene introduces me to this glamorous woman in a red dress and long bouncy blond hair who I recognise from standing up really confidently facing the crowd that morning answering a question like a presidential candidate.
‘Mary has raised €50k for her friend who has MS to have stem cell therapy in Russia. Mary, this is Karen, the girl I told you about who has overcome MS’.
I can feel my face start to match the colour of Mary’s dress as I concentrate on furiously chewing and trying to swallow the stubborn bread in my mouth.
I nod like it’s a race and put my chin down to force the food down my gullet so I can speak.
Trouble is, I didn’t know what to say.
‘Yeah, In Jan of this…’.
“That isn’t possible I don’t think, who told you that?
I look up and see a squished up nose, furrowed brow and her neck tilted away from me like I smelled terribly.
The room started to spin, instant sweat, muscles in my mouth no longer clenched, legs feeling like jelly now and rising my arms.
‘My neurologist in Blackrock Clinic. I’ve had burnout and…’
‘Irene, have you ever heard of this before, I don’t know if I believe that…’
Mary started to resemble the monster I had been fearing for months and thankfully, I’m no longer in the conversation, I am just the subject.
I have no saliva in my mouth to chew or swallow and I need to do something with my hands.
“What did you do?”
I reached for the lime green plastic spoon on the low coffee table at my feet.
Shit!!!!! It was hot, more like I’d wet myself than burned. The entire contents of the grande cup of soup was now on my lap and all down my black tights and flat knee high leather boots and into my handbag. Irene and Mary were dabbing napkins on me trying to soak it up. I mop up what I can and bolt for the bathroom without a goodbye.
The dark toilet cubicle is probably a good thing because I’m not sure if the creamy veg soup has soaked into my clothes or if I just can’t see it.
It doesn;t matter anyway, I’m going back to my car and going home. It’s too much. I shouldn’t have come. My Mam was right, what was I thinking dragging the kids out that early and making my way to some event about speaking. I can’t even finish the first exercise nevermind the crying.
I walk outside looking for the way into the carpark entrance and I can;t see it. There’s lots of people outside smoking and chatting happily with each other. They all look so comfortable and like they belong at this event.
I can;t find the bloody big blue P sign and I realise I got out of an elevator INSIDE the hotel. Fuck it anyway.
I wanted to savour the novelty of the revolving hotel door but as I stepped out, there was my new angel friend like Archangel Michael himself. Before I knew it, I’m back in the room, having passed the carpark elevator and it looks like a completely different event. The lights are down low, the chairs are all laid out in separate mini circles dotted around the room and I’m ushered to pod number 10. I hesitate. Is there anyone with a red dress in my pod? I’m safe to go. I think.
There was a mentor assigned to pod number 10. “Welcome, have a seat there. I’m paddy last again so I’m seated right next to him. “Each person has 3 minutes to read out what they wrote this morning. I want you to stand up and give it your best shot remembering your positioning, tone, project your voice and off you go. Let’s start off to my right’.
Thank god for small mercies.
Out came the notebook and I scribbled something in between each person around the circle.
It’s my turn. I stand. I was actually positioned in a weird kind of lunge. Just be because I didn’t want anyone to hear me and I didn’t want to stand up straight or be heard.
“Stand up straight, you’re the last one, make it count”
Screw it. It can’t get any worse.
I hear claps and realise it’s for me. This hot flush is getting a little
Karen, you did really good.
You’re the winner of the group.
Surely this couldn’t be happening.
So I said thank you, put my head down again and we all put the chairs back into the cinema style eating as requested.
The mentor calls me back and leans in with a smile to say ‘I’ve to pick a winner from each team and I pick you! I can’t promise anything but out of all of the pods, 4 will be chosen to go on stage and compete for the grand prize.”
‘Please pick someone else, thank you and I don’t mean to be rude, but I almost cried at the end and there’s much better people there’
He smiled and walked over to the other mentors. All he’d have to do is speak to Eric and he’ll know I’m a bad bet.
The room is still dark and I feel like I’m at a cabaret show on holidays and a cocktail wouldn’t go amiss. Up comes the main man Gerry with a big smile welcoming everyone back.
He is handed a large shiny silver envelope from one of the mentors and as he takes out the piece of paper, he pauses for what seemed like 5 minutes.
There’s boisterous applause as he reads out the first name, the second name, the third and then pause again. Christ on a bike ‘Karen Dwyer’ he says.
I’m directed over to the mentors group and the tears are in full flow now. I can barely see. I am clumsily knocking off people as they pat my shoulder with warm words as I pass them.
I had 4 mentors around me including John, the man now laughing and putting his arm around my shoulder as we all moved to an empty pod. ‘We are going to perfect your talk and I have some amazing friends to help us.’
What was happening? I was crying the sort of cry that couldn’t stop, proper sobbing with the catching of my breath and the tears, and only looks of kindness around me which set me off even more.
There was one female mentor, Ciara, who was getting down to business straight away. “Ok, let’s hear what you wrote and let’s go from there.’ It was exactly what I needed, a kind of half fright and a really big smile to snap me out of my emotional stupor.
I was asked a lot of questions and got some sage advice on what to put, where and what to remove. More pointers each time I practiced and they all made so much sense.
Even though I still can’t get to the end of the new speech without crying, these mentors are amazingly helpful and really boosting my confidence. I’m safe in this huddle getting so much help but what happens when I’m called to the stage to speak in front of potentially hundreds of Marys’s in the red dress.
‘So when Gerry calls you up, you will read out what you wrote this morning and then put your notebook down and then have the real version
We went over what I had newly written on a fresh page, and ‘Can the 4 people chosen please make their way to the stage please?”
There’s Eric standing with a young man grinning at me. I’m shocked that he is not shocked seeing me join the end of the queue.
Everyone is back in thor seats now and it starts to get eerily quiet. I can feel everyone turn their heads left as Gerry invites all of us up to join him. Head down safely negotiating the 3 steps to stand at the very edge trying not to pay too much attention on the crowd.
I just want to get through this and break down during it.
As each person went ahead of me, their stories are inspiring. Erics mentee who is providing houses to people that really need them at a fraction os the usual market price. What a bloody hero. He is super professional, witty and full of charisma.
This is all so mental. What the hell am I doing? Maybe they will just feel sorry for me and we can all just move on, go home and put it down to experience.
“Up you come to the mic Karen, our final contestant. They all yours. Read what you wrote this morning and then your new one from this afternoon”
Thank god it was on a stand because shakin Stevens here would have dropped it.
Eyes glued to the notebook I read “My name is Karen Dwyer and I am a sales manager for a finance company. I am a single Mum and I have 2 daughters aged 12 and 5 and I jst recently returned to the workplace after being ill. I have had s uccessful career and I want to move into an area I am passionate about. I plan on launching ‘My Gratitude Attitude Journal’ this year because it has had such a positive effect on my health was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis when I was 31 and spent a lot of time in and out of hospital and it wasn’t until my ex walked out oon Christmas day over a year ago that I realised I wasn’t happy. I started practicing gratitude and other things and I had a whole
It was really obvious that it was my clap at the end that had won. And I was announced the winner.
When I look back now, I feel like it was one of those sliding doors moments
that have six that morning.
What I could have done
was say, Oh, it’s fine. I’ll stay home. I look after the kids and let me have a lion because this flight was delayed the night before.
I could have just not bothered.
I could have just not bothered writing down how I really felt that morning.
I could have went home after I spilled super myself. I could have gotten scared and not done anything when that woman
questioned what I’d done.
She probably didn’t even mean anything bad by it. But it was my fear personified that showed up in that woman. That day was the start of my speaking career. For that, I am grateful
that was the day
I told my truth.