ABOUT

You Want to Speak. But You Feel Like a Dork.

You’ve always wanted to be able to speak in front of a group of people without feeling so damn nervous about it. The times when you’ve had to speak, you’ve been anxious, had sweaty palms or shaking hands, or lost your train of thought completely. You start to speak and the pitch of your voice is 10x higher than usual, and you can hear it shaking. This makes you begin to panic, so you speed everything up because you just want to get this over with. Once it’s finally over, you end up feeling embarrassed, possibly humiliated, and and you worry about what everyone thinks.

I used to cringe at the thought of giving a speech in front of people. 

But now I’m not only a speaker, but a speaking coach for women and non-binary folks who either have speaking anxiety, or just want to get better at it. Are you tired of avoiding opportunities because you’re afraid you might sound stupid? (It’s a harsh word, I know, but it’s also the word that a lot of my clients use to describe how they think people perceive them.) I help you control their nerves, use a powerful voice and stand tall to confidently deliver a speech, present at a work meeting, or be assertive in a tough situation. 

It’s absolutely possible to work through your speaking anxiety.

I used to fret about having to give a speech or a presentation for days and just keep putting it off. The night before, I’d write some outline of a speech, assuming I could “wing it” a little bit, and show up panicked and unprepared. My throat would go dry, and my voice sounded like a worried sheep. (Be sure to ask me about the time I had to sing “Fly Me to the Moon” a capella at a summer theatre audition that I crashed…)

But here’s some good news: it isn’t like that for me any longer, and it doesn’t have to be that way for you. I’m confident and comfortable in most groups (unless it’s a group of assholes), and can speak to small and large audiences alike. Do I still get nervous? Oh yeah, sometimes more than others, but now I have a strong and sharp set of tools that I can use to show up like a badass anyhow.

Panic attacks? Check.

I suffered from panic attacks almost daily for several years. Like a lot of kids, I was bullied at school, and the constant stress showed up as anxiety attacks. It meant that my internal alert was always on. (My fight/flight/freeze mode didn’t have an “off” button.)

And then in high school, I found a home in theatre. It was an outlet for my rage, my frustration, my funny side, my grief. It was something that I was good at, and a community for me to belong to. (I’m unapologetic about ending my sentences with prepositions, by the way…)

As someone who was still incredibly shy in social situations, people always found it strange that I could seem so extroverted and comfortable on the stage.

But my story is not uncommon. Theatre helped me become the confident person I had always wanted to be.

Once I’d found this new community, and found new ways to communicate and new interests to explore, I began to see life differently. I began to feel less awakward in social situations and could easily make new friends. To be clear: I still suffered from anxiety (and still do, sometimes) but back then I didn’t know what it was. My body had learned for so long to be on high alert, and that didn’t go away easily. 

Theatre School dropout.

The day I got my acceptance letter to the Toronto Metropolitan University (formerly Ryerson) Theatre School’s Acting program remains one of the best days of my life. I was so proud of myself and I had worked so hard to get there. I couldn’t wait to study with the best and live out my dream of being an actor in the big city! 

But… I wasn’t ready. I still didn’t understand how much time I spent behind a wall of my own creation. I didn’t realize how much the anxiety, the being on high alert, contributed to so many layers between the outside me and the real me who lived underneath. And when you’re studying theatre, you have to be present, you have to know yourself (really know yourself) so that you can create honest characters from a place of openness.

I flunked out. I failed my first year. To say it was painful is an understatement. I’d never failed anything in my life before, let alone my dream! I was invited to come back and repeat the first year of the program, but I declined (I miiiight have told them to fuck off, ahem. Ah, youth..) What was the point? 

So I tried to make it on my own. For a year I pounded the pavement, worked at my minimum wage bookstore job. I did the stuff you were supposed to do - sent my headshot and resume out for potential jobs, did a few auditions, got an agent.

Something wasn’t right.

But I knew, whether I admitted it to myself or not, that something wasn’t right. I couldn’t really connect the way I could see others connecting. I couldn’t let go of the armour I wore and be silly. Or ugly. Or loud. Or displeasing. I still felt so ashamed and anxious on the inside, and my strategies of pushing it away were starting to crumble.

I developed agoraphobia. I don’t recall if I knew that in the moment, but everything started to rush towards an implosion, and looking back years later, I can see it clearly. But at the time, all I knew was that I couldn’t leave the apartment without my boyfriend. Sure, I took the acting class across town, but I could only take it because he met me on the streetcar afterwards to get home with me. I couldn’t go grocery shopping by myself. If he had plans with somebody else, I stayed home. 

And then, we broke up. And that triggered a turning point in my life. 

Learning who I was.

I decided to go back to theatre school. Something felt unresolved, and I thought that if I could go back and finish the program, I would feel like I was overcoming something. And it worked. I graduated three years later with top marks, and even earned a few awards while I was there.

I finally admitted that I needed help and called a therapist. I learned that I suffered from panic attacks. I learned that these contributed to periods of depression. I learned how to talk about deeply painful moments from my childhood bullying. And I learned how to connect with myself in a more truthful way than I ever had before. I learned to trust myself.

After several years, I decided that I didn’t want to be an actor any longer. Or, at least, I couldn’t continue to make time for the slog of commercial auditions where the only thing that mattered was how tight my dress was.

Once I realized how much stress I was under, without much in return (I barely landed commercials - I wasn’t good at being phony), the intense relief of not having to put myself through that any longer was indescribable. The decision to give it up because it wasn’t serving me showed me that I could be resilient - that I could say no, and that I could change my mind.

Taking control of my destiny instead of floating down somebody else’s stream.

I began to write more actively - something I’d always enjoyed. I successfully applied for grants to develop a one woman play. I helped create an artist’s studio where several arts companies resided. I received a training grant to work with Toronto-based theatre producer Naomi Campbell (who is now the Artistic Director of Luminato) and I learned how to produce theatre and films. I took some control back into my life and learned that I could make my own work happen, instead of waiting for other people to hire me.

I learned how to play guitar. And moved fluidly to something I would NEVER have imagined myself doing: writing and recording and playing my own music.

Music took everything I had learned; writing, performing, storytelling, and made the perfect package. I didn’t have to rely on anybody else to make music, and it felt like an exciting and worthwhile place to put all of my efforts. I have written and recorded 5 albums. I’ve toured across Canada and into the United States playing the venues and festivals of my dreams.

This is how I help change the world. Really.

But wait - how did I get from there to here? 

Being an independent musician isn’t always enough to pay the bills, so I picked up a day job at a University. Several years ago, some of the students in my faculty were practising oral competitions, and I asked if anyone was helping them with their speaking skills. Nobody was. So I pitched myself. It felt incredibly appealing to pass on the theatre skills I had learned in a practical way. For years I’d thought about how my theatre training had so many incredible life skills that everybody should have.

ubu skills

And that’s how ubu skills started. I realized that not only was I good at training these students, but that I loved it. I mean really loved it. And I still do. 

Through the years, I’ve added to and finely tuned my process, coached thousands of people individually and in groups, and realized that my passion lies in elevating the voices of women and non-binary people. The current systems and structures have led us to where we are today, and we need change. I truly believe that when we can have more non-traditional voices in the public forum, we will change the world.

My life experience has led me to be the kind of coach that I am: compassionate, encouraging, positive, honest. I help you speak in front of others when you never thought you could. I help you be you (hence the name of my business).

One of the things I hear most from clients is that they feel so good finally being able to cultivate their real selves, and not this “professional”, fake charming person they figured they needed to be.

I know that the tools and skills I can pass on make a difference - in individual lives, but also collectively. We need to hear from new voices - we can’t afford to stay silent any longer.

But enough about me...

If you’re ready to start working together, check out my programs on the Work With Me page. I have a range of offers, including 1:1 coaching, group workshops and classes.

Want to chat further about how I can help? I’d love to! Email megan@ubuskills.com and I’ll get back to you as soon as possible!