Facing fear in your personal & professional life

Fear always finds a way to show up in unexpected ways, doesn’t it? It’s something that we all deal with in one way or another, in both our personal and professional lives.

For me, living with stage 4 cancer has me noticing that it’s not the kind of fear that paralyzes anymore, because well, I simply don’t have the time! Instead, it’s been quiet, subtle, and creeps in during a routine doctor’s appointment, a scan, or even just a random moment alone.

It also creeps in when I’m about to do something really incredible in my career, like a TEDx talk, or meeting a new group in one of my classes at U of T, or commit to a keynote for leaders in an industry I have so much respect for.

And I’ve learned that fear isn’t all bad because it has a very important role. It’s a reminder to live deliberately, to prioritize what matters, and to embrace courage every single day – in all aspects of life.

Courage isn’t the absence of fear, it’s acting despite it. Wait, that is a good saying! I totally made that up all by myself right now… totally original.

When I was just getting used to this new incurable stage 4 diagnosis I will admit that I was filled with fear. Of course I was, there is so much uncertainty that comes with the territory and no one likes that. But it wasn’t what I expected, because I guess I assumed I’d be scared for my own life or something. But I wasn’t really. Instead, the fear was around the uncertainty that was coming for my children’s lives.

And by that I mean I feared for what their lives would be like in the future if I wasn’t in it anymore. Losing a parent is one of the most traumatic things that can happen to you at a young age, and all I could see was all of the things that could go wrong.

Some kids take tragedy and become resilient adults and live very happy successful lives despite it all – but some don’t. Some struggle in school or relationships, experience depression or anxiety, or can even fall into behaviors of self sabotage or addiction… or insert any bad thing you’ve ever worried about here. Have you noticed how good we are at fearing all of the worst possible outcomes?

At the risk of being very vulnerable, I want to share that this fear overcame all of my thoughts for a period of time after my initial diagnosis over 4 years ago, and I experienced depression for months before I understood what was happening and got help. For a time I felt helpless and hopeless, and it was scary because I had never experienced that before.

As soon as I got through chemotherapy for the second time, all the radiation treatments and another surgery – I had a minute to take a breath and assess how I was going to live this life moving forward. It is after all, the only life I know.

The fact was, I had to figure out how to live with the fear because it was going to be a part of my life whether I liked it or not. I knew there was a way I could find a more productive role for the fear. There had to be.

The real turnaround came when I put in the extra effort to learn how to reprogram my beliefs and thoughts through specialized therapy, mindfulness and meditation. I was lucky because I had all the support I needed, and I was determined to make sure I took advantage of every single tool available to figure this out.

I learned to accept that the future is unknown. Is it fun being uncomfortable? No. Is it possible to be ok with being uncomfortable? If you say so. The truth is that acceptance is the key to not letting it run your life. No one gets to escape discomfort, so we have to learn to use it wisely.

I started questioning my thoughts and beliefs and focused on what I KNOW to be true in the present moment. What is the actual truth? What do I know to be true, for sure, right now?

Did I know for sure that I won’t be here in the future? Not technically, no. Are my kids for sure going to have horrible lives if I’m not here? I mean obviously…. WAIT I mean NO. Also no. Of course no… The point is nothing is actually certain. For any of us.

The other thing is, I came to the realization that I am actually here to help them through the trauma of losing a parent – if that’s what happens – because I’m here right now. I get to help them build coping strategies and find outlets that they can fall back on when life hits them with the hard stuff. And I have a gift of a special kind of perspective (because I choose to see it that way) and it’s helped me see that the present moment is all we really have.

I am present, aware and capable of being there for them and guiding them through life’s toughest lessons. Basically they have an extra annoying mom encouraging them to get out there and make the most of life!

Can’t stop, won’t stop.

So it’s not about avoiding fear – it’s about acknowledging the fear, letting it teach you, and using it to fuel living fully. And living fully means being present at home – and being present at work, so you can chase all your professional goals too.

I believe that there is no work-life separation, truly. Leaving your personal life at home was always something that I thought was rule number one. Maybe it still is for a lot of you, I get it. We all have different circumstances. But the day I learned that it’s ok to be a human at work, and it’s ok to be an ambitious person at home, a lot changed.

What I was dealing with ‘at home’ made me a more empathetic, driven, and passionate, and it fueled my professional purpose. And a more purposeful work-life, with big goals, and stronger relationships at work made me a happier mother, wife and friend.

You can’t be afraid of taking risks at work, going after what you’ve always wanted, speaking up in meetings or volunteering to be the one to present the project in front of leadership. Fear isn’t supposed to be holding you back professionally, it is meant to guide you out of your comfort zone and see what will happen if you GO FOR IT. It your goal scares you, then it’s worth going for!

So the next time you feel fear creeping into your life – either in your personal life or at work – the NEW question you need to ask yourself is WHAT HAPPENS IF EVERYTHING GOES AMAZING? Not thinking about all the ways it can go wrong. It’s a habit that takes a lot of practice to change, and I promise it gets easier with time. The more courage you use on a regular basis, the more you trust yourself and your abilities to figure it all out.

As for those fears about my kids and their experience in all of this? Well, they get to see their mom tackle some pretty challenging things first hand. If I want them to thrive in life despite any circumstances, then I have to demonstrate it. For example, they’ll chase their dreams if they see me chase mine.

They’ll also get help when they’re struggling if I talk about the times I got help when I was struggling. My kids will begin taking risks that require courage at an earlier age if I’m always doing it too. They’ll learn that fear itself isn’t something to be afraid of, it’s just another part of being human. And they won’t avoid facing their fears, hopefully they’ll chase those opportunities instead.

The next time fear shows itself to you in some unexpected (or very expected) way, challenge yourself to accept it for what it is and allow it to help you achieve something new. Better yet, maybe even something extraordinary!

What Happens Backstage and How to Own the Moment You Step Into the Light

TEDx backstage University of Toronto, Lindsy Matthews, Speaker

There’s a particular kind of energy backstage and it isn’t necessarily peaceful. It’s the silence of a held breath – yours, mostly. The hum of the crowd bleeds through the curtain, a formless noise that somehow makes the space behind it feel smaller. You check your notes one more time even though you know them. You shift your weight and try to swallow as if you’ve never drank a glass of water in your life… You wonder, briefly, if you’ve forgotten how to speak.

This is the backstage experience that almost no one talks about honestly. And it’s completely normal!

What It Actually Feels Like Back There

Backstage feels like a liminal space – you’re neither here nor there. The version of you that was calm at breakfast and confident in rehearsal seems to have gone somewhere else, and in its place is someone hyper-aware of their own heartbeat.

You feel like you can’t breath right. Your hands might feel oddly cold or oddly warm. Some people get a strange urge to laugh. Others go very, very quiet. I like to tell a lot of jokes! A few feel a wave of emotion where you want to cry, which is just good old adrenaline.

What’s happening physiologically is straightforward: your body has decided this moment matters, and it’s flooding your system with the chemicals it reserves for important events. The same cocktail that sharpened your ancestor’s focus before a hunt is now making you hyperaware of whether your shirt looks right and your collar is straight.

Here’s the reframe that changes everything: your body cannot distinguish between fear and excitement. The symptoms are identical. Elevated heart rate, heightened senses, quickened breath – that’s not panic. That’s readiness. The only difference between the two is the story you tell yourself about what’s happening.

The Moment Before You Walk Out

There’s usually a moment – ten seconds, maybe thirty – where you can hear the person introducing you. Your name is out there in the room before you are. The audience is forming an expectation and that moment can feel enormous.

Most people try to calm down at this point. They take deep breaths, they tell themselves to relax, they try to dial the feeling back. I’m here to tell you that this is the wrong instinct. Trying to suppress adrenaline right before you speak is like trying to un-brew coffee. The energy is already made. The better move is to redirect it, not reduce it.

Roll your shoulders back. Plant your feet for a second and feel the floor. Not to calm down – but to get grounded inside the energy rather than swept around by it. There’s a difference between being nervous at the stage and being charged up for it.

Then someone says your name, or a hand gestures you forward, and the curtain parts or the door opens, and you go. No turning back now!

The Walk Itself

The walk onto a stage is one of the most psychologically loaded ten seconds in public life. Every eye in the room turns to you before you’ve said a word. You are being read – your posture, your pace, the expression on your face – and the audience is already deciding how they feel about you.

Walk slower than you think you should. Nerves make people rush – they want to get to the podium, get behind something, get somewhere that feels like safety. But a hurried walk signals anxiety and hands your authority away before you’ve opened your mouth.

Own the distance. Take up the time the walk gives you. Look at the room – not scanning frantically, but actually seeing it. Find one friendly face in the first few rows and let that be your anchor.

When you arrive at the front, don’t speak immediately. Stand for just a moment. Breathe. Let the room settle around you. This pause – which will feel unbearably long to you and last about three seconds in reality – tells the audience that you’re not afraid of the space. That you belong in it. And in telling them, you begin to tell yourself.

Five Ways to Beat the Jitters That Actually Work

1. Warm your hands up before you go on. Cold hands are a classic anxiety symptom and they pull your attention inward at exactly the wrong moment. Rub them together, hold a warm cup of water, press them briefly against the back of your neck. It sounds trivial. It helps.

2. Hum quietly in the minutes before you speak. Not to warm up your voice – though it does that too – but because humming activates the vagus nerve and genuinely dials down your fight-or-flight response. Thirty seconds of quiet humming backstage does more than five minutes of anxious deep breathing.

3. Name what you’re feeling out loud, to yourself. Whisper it if you have to: “I’m nervous.” There’s solid research behind this – labeling an emotion reduces its intensity. The act of naming it creates just enough psychological distance that it stops running the show.

4. Find something to be curious about. Anxiety is largely self-focused -it’s all about you, your performance, your potential failure. Curiosity points outward. Before you walk on, ask yourself a genuine question about the audience: Who’s in this room? What do they actually need from this talk? It redirects your attention away from yourself, which is exactly where it needs to go.

5. Accept that the first 30 seconds will feel worse than the rest. This is the most practical tip of all. The jitters almost always peak in the first half-minute and then dissolve once you’re actually speaking and the audience is responding. If you know this in advance, you stop interpreting those opening nerves as a sign that something is wrong – and you ride them out instead of panicking about them.

After You Step Into the Light

Something shifts when you start speaking. It doesn’t always happen immediately, but it happens. The audience becomes real and individual faces instead of a blur, and the connection you came to make starts forming. The nerves don’t vanish, but they change character because they become fuel rather than friction.

The backstage version of you – dry-mouthed, second-guessing, quietly terrified – was never the real story. It was just the price of admission! Every speaker you’ve ever admired paid it too, standing in that same wings-darkness, listening to their own heartbeat, wondering if they were ready.

They weren’t ready. They went anyway.

So will you!

Virtual Meeting Eye Contact Tip

Lindsy Matthews, speaker, coach, public speaking, virutal meeting tip

Stop looking at yourself on video calls!

If you’re looking at your own face (or even the other person’s face) on the screen, to them, it looks like you’re looking at their chin – or something else on your screen.

Tip: Put a Post-it note with a smiley face or an arrow pointing directly at your camera lens.

Why it works:

  • We are hardwired to look at faces, but in the virtual world, the “face” is that tiny glass dot.
  • Looking at the lens creates “eye contact” for the audience, making them feel seen and engaged.

It gets easier with practice and you’ll actually see that there is less distraction when you’re getting your important points across!

–> The Move: When you reach the most important part of your pitch, look STRAIGHT at the smiley face. It might feel weird to you, but it feels like leadership to them.

Start With Silence – The 3 Second Pause!

Lindsy Matthews Speaker

You know how most presentations start with awkward shuffling, a “Can everyone see my screen?”, or a rushed “Hi everyone, thanks for coming”?

If you want to stand out, try the 3-Second Pause. It’s so simple, you can do this today!

Here’s what you do:

1.) Stand (or sit) still. Don’t start talking the moment you reach the front of the room or you’re highlighted in the virtual meeting.

2.) Make eye contact and scan the room – or look directly at the camera lens.

3.) Wait for a full 3 seconds. It might feel like an eternity but it’s just enough time to make all the difference.

Why does it work?

  • Silence demands attention. People will stop typing and look up to see if there are audio issues or if they missed something… only to find you looking ready to go and completely composed.
  • It kills the jitters. That pause lets your adrenaline to level out so your first sentence comes out strong, not shaky or breathless.
  • It signals authority. Only people comfortable with their message are comfortable with silence.

The result? You aren’t just another speaker, you’re the person everyone is waiting to hear.

Try it in your next presentation or client pitch. Let me know if those 3 seconds felt like 3 hours!

Cancer gave me a mic – and I’m not giving it back

Questioning my life decisions just before I go on stage is a normal part of my process. “No, for real WHY do I do this to myself?” I asked my husband, minutes before I was about to walk onto an elevated stage in front of over 2,500 people downtown Toronto last year. My nerves were going crazy, my stomach was weak and my body was vibrating in anticipation. 

I’m pretty sure I said something like ‘‘why can’t I just go get a normal job or do anything normal?!” He laughed at me and reminded me that this is what I do every time I’m about to go on stage, and that I’ll kill it.

At least one of us was confident and having fun.

I remember telling him that I clearly need to find a new process, and started to literally dance out the nerves in a little area beside the stage – there’s a video of that somewhere!

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been comfortable speaking in front of people. Plus, I give a lot of credit to my earlier career in fitness because one hour at a time, one group at a time, I wasn’t just giving my clients exercise coaching. I was telling stories, filling silences, connecting with strangers, and making people laugh – even when they hated their lives because they were doing a lot of burpees.

Burpees were my thing. Ah, the good old days.

As a personal trainer and fitness instructor I learned how to entertain, pass time, read a room, and use humor to make hard topics feel lighter. I guess you could say that fitness was my first stage.

So when I was originally diagnosed with early stage breast cancer, speaking up about it felt like the natural thing to do. 

I had to abruptly shut down my fitness business to have surgery and start treatment, and I decided it was a perfect way to keep my very supportive community up to speed with everything that was going on. 

I started a blog to process everything, to share, and to connect. And I shared a lot of the day to day stuff on social media. To this day I cannot express how grateful I am for the community that supported me, because it made all the difference in the world. It gave me an even bigger reason to get through treatment and helped me stay positive.

But when my cancer came back as stage 4 and incurable, everything changed. It felt different. I felt different. This time, I didn’t want to talk. I felt exhausted, and narrating my whole experience suddenly felt scary. What if all I’d be was “the positive cancer girl.” 

I was also afraid of what I’d be sharing with the world. This time the stakes were different with my children. There was no longer an end to this fight, and how it was going to go down was very uncertain. I didn’t know how to share openly and still protect them. They were young and although we were honest about everything, we still had to keep it age appropriate and be extra sensitive to their experience. 

The gravity of my diagnosis, what it meant, the prognosis… I felt like I needed to keep some of the hardest details close, and I didn’t know how to balance it all. 

So I didn’t. I retreated. I went quiet. I posted a couple times on social media. I wrote no more blogs. I quit my jobs, I focused on treatment and I didn’t think I’d ever have the time to work again.

My world was shrinking. 

Then, in the middle of that darkness, the universe handed me something unexpected. A public speaking competition. I almost didn’t enter, but the timing, the ‘Against All Odds’ theme and how it came to be felt like it was a strong message that this was something I needed to do.

So I entered. And I gave my first real stage speech ever.

And I won first place.

Standing on that stage, hearing the audience laugh, feeling the energy in the room, and learning how my story impacted others afterwards, something inside me lit up again. It felt right. 

That’s when I started to realize that maybe this was what I’m supposed to do next. I’d always loved speaking, and now I had something even more meaningful to say.

My words could help others who were fighting their own battles, and often battles that no one even knows about. Maybe my vulnerability could help others move forward with strength, hope and positivity too. 

Resilience is not born, it’s built. I could be a part of that.

The saying is ‘if my story helps even one person it’s worth it’ and let me tell you – yes. It’s true. It’s everything. 

So I followed that path. One more competition (and one more award winning speech). Then a podcast. A charity keynote. An audience of over 2,500 people. And one more, and one more…

And eventually, in a plot twist I didn’t see coming, I found myself not just speaking – but helping others speak and share their own messages and stories. Helping people find their voices in their own lives, whether on a stage, in a boardroom, or at a networking event (or even their kitchen table) felt natural too.

At first I was coaching fellow stage competitors, and then instructing classes at the University of Toronto’s School of Continuing Studies. Leading others to tell their stories, connect with confidence, and use their voice with purpose has meant more to me than I could have ever imagined. I’ve met so many incredible people and it has been such a fun way to go back to work.

And yes, I am happy to be back at work. It feels like a privilege thanks to my ‘special’ perspective on life.

I’ve learned that using your voice is one of the most powerful ways to take back control when life feels uncontrollable. Stories, speeches and communication changes the world. 

It’s a way to turn pain into purpose, fear into connection, and uncertainty into meaning. It’s how we remind ourselves and each other that we still have something to give, something to say, and in some cases, something to live for.

For me, speaking isn’t about having the mic. It’s about creating impact. It’s about leaving something behind that’s important and personal. For me it’s real, unfiltered, hopeful, and inspiring.

Cancer takes so much, but it can give a lot too. A couple things it gave me was the clarity and courage to go after this career path.

So although I may question my life decisions every time I’m about to speak in front of audiences of any size – it’s the most amazing and energizing feeling in the world. I love it. I truly feel like I’ve been led on the right path, at just the right time, and I’m just getting started.