A few weeks ago, I challenged one of my all-time biggest fears: public speaking. I grew to loathe it over my formative years, due to a series of bad experiences and terrible anxiety. I would feel anxious for weeks leading up to show-and-tell at school, and yet, I still wanted people to listen to what I had to say. However, every time it would feel like my life was about to come to an end and that there was no future to look forward to – that I'd somehow die in front of everyone whilst talking. That's the irrationality of anxiety.
Whenever I'd have to do something like this, I'd practice every night to ensure I couldn't screw up. Screwing up would be the worst thing in the world. I know because it'd happened previously: I would forget my words, stutter, blush, or say something everyone else thought was stupid just to break the silence. It didn't take long before no-one wanted to associate with me and I became an easy target for bullying. I never looked confident when I spoke, but inside, I always thought myself as very confident. I received awards and praise from teachers for my artwork, and I was also incredibly good at maths and science and believed I could grow up to become whatever the hell I wanted. I was weirdly big-headed, but as soon as I was put in a room where I had to talk, it all went out of the window: "I am a pushover, someone to talk over, someone insignificant, and definitely not someone who's funny", but did I actually believe any of that? No.
Those closest to me found me silly and quirky. Even my fiancé says that I make him laugh so much, and he's the funniest person I know! I can have a crazy streak when I feel comfortable enough around people (hopefully you can see that humour in One Night Stand!), but feeling comfortable around people is something I rarely feel: I have social anxiety, and it's been with me ever since I can remember.
One time on holiday (I must have been about three years old) my parents left me with a play group whilst they went sailing for the day. I screamed and screamed, demanding they didn't leave me, but they stuck to their plan anyway. I was left with a group of people I didn't know and I couldn't take it... so I bolted. I needed to find my family. I walked for hours on my own in the baking sun, eventually bumping into them down a random path. Looking back, it's a miracle I didn't get lost or kidnapped or something. Not only did I endanger myself, I also missed out on a great day with the play group, making friends, picnicking on the beach and spotting turtles. Social anxiety has made me to miss out on so much fun in my life.
I was only formally diagnosed with social anxiety last year. Then, everything started to make sense. It may sound silly, but I thought everyone felt this way and was just really good at hiding it. I didn't realise that most of the population go about their day without this fear gnawing away at them. Only when I realised this, did I learn that I've almost been going through my whole life on hard-mode. I had been so cruel to myself; calling myself "pathetic" and "weak" because I believed I was on a level-playing field with everyone else – I believed that I didn't have anxiety. However, good news: I'm now learning how to be kinder to myself and give myself the support I always needed. This started with acceptance: "I find this tough and will always find it tough." (Also, Steven Universe helped a lot! It's full of love and acceptance and you should watch it if you haven't already!)
Since realising this, I'm able to do something about it. I had previously turned down every request to publicly speak, but when One Night Stand got nominated for Excellence in Narrative at IGF 2017, I knew I had to go and demo my game... alone.
I was anxious for weeks again, crying at the thought of demoing on my own and potentially having to go up and accept an award. Luckily, I got some help from my friends with the booth (I even ended up enjoying it!), and I didn't win the award so didn't have to give a speech (phew!), but in May 2017, I won New Development Talent at Women in Games 2017, so I had to go up on stage. I didn't think I'd win, so I didn't prepare a speech, and hence I bumbled out some words and walked off. I don't know what I said, only that I thanked my partner for being there and supporting me.
For anyone else, winning an award would be a joyous occasion, but for me, it's just nerve-wracking. However, in the long-term it feels great. I have the award on my shelf and it helps my self-esteem on those long days where I need some kind of validation. Working alone isn't easy. No-one passes by and says "I like your drawing!" or "Good job!" – I have to do that myself.
Anyway, I digress. Being thrown into these events helped me attend others. Instead of automatically turning them down like I used to, I decided to accept smaller things, such as workshops, recorded talks, podcasts and fishbowl discussions to see how they'd go, meet new people and talk about what I often keep inside. Some events were a little awkward at times, but generally they went fine, and I'd meet people who adored my game and wanted to listen to me. Despite how I may come across, I wanted this just like anyone else.
Having people listen is a very new experience for me, but I was beginning to feel like I had something to offer people for the first time ever. I was starting to feel socially confident. That's why, when I was asked to attend Clash of Realities in Köln, I decided to go for it. The Lucy beyond the social anxiety really has a lot she wants to say, and holding her back for 30 years had turned the anger and sadness in on myself and made me ill. I wanted to talk about my game and share my findings on it, so I said yes.
It helped that the conference was over six months away at the time. It gave me enough time to write something and practice... and, most importantly, not freak out. Two months before, the panic started to kick in. I got triggered seeing photographs of people speaking publicly, but I worked with my therapist, practiced my speech, and learnt some self-love. I also imagined worst case scenarios, and then felt that if they were to happen, they wouldn't be the end of the world.
So, eventually, after an awful weekend prior, lack of sleep and cancelled trains, I made it to Köln, and somehow felt pretty good. I told myself "I want to do this" and it got me through. I did it! And even one of my worst case scenario things happened (technical difficulties)! But I laughed it off and enjoyed talking to everyone about what they came to listen to. I ended up having a great time and was buzzing for days afterwards.
Whenever I'd have to do something like this, I'd practice every night to ensure I couldn't screw up. Screwing up would be the worst thing in the world. I know because it'd happened previously: I would forget my words, stutter, blush, or say something everyone else thought was stupid just to break the silence. It didn't take long before no-one wanted to associate with me and I became an easy target for bullying. I never looked confident when I spoke, but inside, I always thought myself as very confident. I received awards and praise from teachers for my artwork, and I was also incredibly good at maths and science and believed I could grow up to become whatever the hell I wanted. I was weirdly big-headed, but as soon as I was put in a room where I had to talk, it all went out of the window: "I am a pushover, someone to talk over, someone insignificant, and definitely not someone who's funny", but did I actually believe any of that? No.
Those closest to me found me silly and quirky. Even my fiancé says that I make him laugh so much, and he's the funniest person I know! I can have a crazy streak when I feel comfortable enough around people (hopefully you can see that humour in One Night Stand!), but feeling comfortable around people is something I rarely feel: I have social anxiety, and it's been with me ever since I can remember.
One time on holiday (I must have been about three years old) my parents left me with a play group whilst they went sailing for the day. I screamed and screamed, demanding they didn't leave me, but they stuck to their plan anyway. I was left with a group of people I didn't know and I couldn't take it... so I bolted. I needed to find my family. I walked for hours on my own in the baking sun, eventually bumping into them down a random path. Looking back, it's a miracle I didn't get lost or kidnapped or something. Not only did I endanger myself, I also missed out on a great day with the play group, making friends, picnicking on the beach and spotting turtles. Social anxiety has made me to miss out on so much fun in my life.
I was only formally diagnosed with social anxiety last year. Then, everything started to make sense. It may sound silly, but I thought everyone felt this way and was just really good at hiding it. I didn't realise that most of the population go about their day without this fear gnawing away at them. Only when I realised this, did I learn that I've almost been going through my whole life on hard-mode. I had been so cruel to myself; calling myself "pathetic" and "weak" because I believed I was on a level-playing field with everyone else – I believed that I didn't have anxiety. However, good news: I'm now learning how to be kinder to myself and give myself the support I always needed. This started with acceptance: "I find this tough and will always find it tough." (Also, Steven Universe helped a lot! It's full of love and acceptance and you should watch it if you haven't already!)
Since realising this, I'm able to do something about it. I had previously turned down every request to publicly speak, but when One Night Stand got nominated for Excellence in Narrative at IGF 2017, I knew I had to go and demo my game... alone.
I was anxious for weeks again, crying at the thought of demoing on my own and potentially having to go up and accept an award. Luckily, I got some help from my friends with the booth (I even ended up enjoying it!), and I didn't win the award so didn't have to give a speech (phew!), but in May 2017, I won New Development Talent at Women in Games 2017, so I had to go up on stage. I didn't think I'd win, so I didn't prepare a speech, and hence I bumbled out some words and walked off. I don't know what I said, only that I thanked my partner for being there and supporting me.
For anyone else, winning an award would be a joyous occasion, but for me, it's just nerve-wracking. However, in the long-term it feels great. I have the award on my shelf and it helps my self-esteem on those long days where I need some kind of validation. Working alone isn't easy. No-one passes by and says "I like your drawing!" or "Good job!" – I have to do that myself.
Anyway, I digress. Being thrown into these events helped me attend others. Instead of automatically turning them down like I used to, I decided to accept smaller things, such as workshops, recorded talks, podcasts and fishbowl discussions to see how they'd go, meet new people and talk about what I often keep inside. Some events were a little awkward at times, but generally they went fine, and I'd meet people who adored my game and wanted to listen to me. Despite how I may come across, I wanted this just like anyone else.
Having people listen is a very new experience for me, but I was beginning to feel like I had something to offer people for the first time ever. I was starting to feel socially confident. That's why, when I was asked to attend Clash of Realities in Köln, I decided to go for it. The Lucy beyond the social anxiety really has a lot she wants to say, and holding her back for 30 years had turned the anger and sadness in on myself and made me ill. I wanted to talk about my game and share my findings on it, so I said yes.
It helped that the conference was over six months away at the time. It gave me enough time to write something and practice... and, most importantly, not freak out. Two months before, the panic started to kick in. I got triggered seeing photographs of people speaking publicly, but I worked with my therapist, practiced my speech, and learnt some self-love. I also imagined worst case scenarios, and then felt that if they were to happen, they wouldn't be the end of the world.
So, eventually, after an awful weekend prior, lack of sleep and cancelled trains, I made it to Köln, and somehow felt pretty good. I told myself "I want to do this" and it got me through. I did it! And even one of my worst case scenario things happened (technical difficulties)! But I laughed it off and enjoyed talking to everyone about what they came to listen to. I ended up having a great time and was buzzing for days afterwards.
I look HAPPY! Anyway, I understand this is a very personal blog post for a game development site and not the usual kind of thing I post here, and, apart from the talk on One Night Stand, has little to do with game development... So why did I write it? Well, firstly it's immensely cathartic for me! I feel like I'm coming out or something: yes, I have social anxiety! Sometimes I want to shout it so people can understand how I'm feeling and what I'm going through, but instead I usually grit my teeth and put on a brave face. There's only so long you can do that, though before it starts to eat away at you, so I wanted to write this and be honest with you all. But secondly, this post is also an insight into my next game: Memories (working title). See, I wouldn't post all this if it wasn't about games ;-) The protagonist, Millie, also suffers from social anxiety, and whilst this isn't the main theme of the game, I wanted to depict a character who struggles in ways I relate to. Growing up, I don't think I saw a socially anxious character anywhere, but I'm starting to see them pop up in anime and films now, which is great. It feels so wonderful seeing someone like yourself be the star of the show, as though nothing is wrong with you and you're allowed to be yourself just the way you are. For me, it's okay to be shy and quiet sometimes. I don't have to change or become an amazing public speaker or advocate. That's not my goal or ambition (I just want to make games!) but at least now I know it's not something I need to fear so intensely. The traumatic experiences of my past do not need to define me any longer. I'm allowed to move past them and look towards a happier future... and it's the same for Millie. I hope that when people play Memories, they are able to see that.
As for game development, I have been working mainly on artwork for the last month. Memories is divided into roughly five story sections, and I'm hoping to complete the artwork for two of them by the middle of December. These two sections are the biggest in the game, so the others should be completed much more quickly... I hope! I estimate all artwork and story to be completed around April, leaving some programming, music, UI and testing to do. I'm hoping for a release sometime over Summer, but we'll have to see how it goes. Until then, here's a sneak peek:
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Thanks for reading this very long, peculiar blog post! Until next time.