As you are reading these words, I won’t be in my cosy cabin in Vermont anymore. I’ll be in Atlanta for the 10th edition of VOA, the largest gathering of voice over talent in the world! How cool is that?!
But can I be honest with you? While 70 percent of me is excited about seeing all my friends again, 30 percent is apprehensive and insecure. Here are a few things I’m afraid of when I think about VO Atlanta.
One: I’m afraid I’m going to lose my voice.
Voice overs LOVE to talk, and talk, and talk, and talk. As you know, speaking is not a problem for me, but having to constantly raise my voice in crowds in order to have a normal conversation is not something I look forward to at all, especially because I’m not only there to socialize. I’m there to present and be part of panels. I’m there to do a job for which I’m being paid.
Two: I’m afraid I won’t recognize people I’m supposed to know.
Like Stephen Fry, I suffer from prosopagnosia or face blindness. It happened after my stroke, and it leads to socially awkward situations, especially because I do have my moments of clarity.
So, if I don’t recognize you immediately, don’t take it personally. My brain just can’t put two and two together, sometimes.
Three: I’m worried about my misophonia, another post-stroke “gift” that has never gone away.
People with misophonia get triggered by certain sounds, and by “triggered” I mean it activates their fight or flight response in an extreme way. Sounds like people chewing can drive me nuts. It’s completely irrational, I know.
Four: I don’t know if my mind is going to be able to handle all the external stimuli a conference brings.
After my stroke, going into a supermarket had my brain go into overload. It just couldn’t process all the stimuli. So, if you see me go to my room, it doesn’t mean I want to be anti-social. It means I need to take a mental and physical break.
And five, I am afraid I’m not going to live up to your expectations of me, and my expectations of myself. I don’t want to disappoint you, and I don’t want to disappoint myself. But I already know I’m not going to be able to talk to all the people I want to talk to, simply because there isn’t enough time and there are too many people.
I know I’m not going to remember everything I want to say to you during my presentations, and that’s why you’ll see me using cheat sheets. Remember, my stroke took away part of my brain and that’s never coming back. It means my memorizations skills are down the drain and I get easily confused.
But all of that is not going to stop me from having the time of my life! All I ask of you is to please take me as I am.
Weaker, but not defeated. Overwhelmed at times, but enjoying the moment nevertheless.
I want you to see the real me (in 3 D), and not the person you think I am, based on a few Instagram videos, and on what you’ve read from me. I’ll do my very best to live up to your highest expectations, but if I fail, it’s not for lack of trying. I promise.
Please don’t let all of this stop you from connecting with me. I want to look you in the eye, give you a hug or a hand perhaps, and celebrate the fact that we’re together again as a crazy community of people who love to talk for a living.
I can’t wait to meet you!
I.sat in on your sessions at.my first VOATL in 2017 and have followed you ever since – including your incredible journey through your stroke. Thank you for your honest sharing. Would that we were all so honest in our lives.
You’re a wonderful person and should feel absolutely okay to suggest finding a quieter spot to chat (to avoid raising your voice – and chances are, the person you’re talking to would appreciate it, too), asking folks to remind you of their names, as name/face recognition can be challenging if you’re not close friends with them… and just taking time to find a quiet spot at the hotel or near the conference to recharge.
Have a ton of fun, I’m sure you’ll have a blast! 🙂
Remember Paul, your mental and physical well-being ALWAYS come first, no matter what. Take each moment as it comes and enjoy the conference as best as you can. And don’t pay any mind to expectations. as long as you do the best you can, that’s all that matters. See you soon in Atlanta!
Here’s wishing your fears prove unfounded. Have a great time!
Wonderful. Have a great time, Paul.
I hope this didn’t happen, or at least not become overwhelming. To all appearances, you were doing fine! I enjoyed being able to finally meet you and have a brief chat.