Several years ago, I had just moved to Estes Park, Colorado -- home of the legendary, and reportedly haunted, Stanley Hotel. Because of my love for the history of the hotel and my interest in the paranormal in general, I decided it would be a good idea to apply for a seasonal Ghosts & History tour guide position.
There was just one REALLY BIG problem.
I was terrified of public speaking.
How exactly does someone who "can't" speak in front of people take a job that requires standing up in front of 20-25 people, several times a day, and speaking in front of them? But in spite of my second thoughts, I showed up for my first day of work to begin the training process. This included learning the detailed history of the hotel and following an experienced tour guide on her tours for a week or two. Then I would begin to take over slowly, giving short segments of the 90-minute tour, until I had learned it completely and was comfortable enough to go off on my own.
The day soon arrived when I was to give my first portion of the tour. By then, I knew the history inside and out. I knew the ghost stories that had occurred at each of the stops throughout the hotel. I had this down, I could do this! I gathered the group of guests together, confidently leading them to the first stop on the tour at the bottom of the basement stairs. I stepped up a couple of stairs, so everyone could see and hear me, turned to face the expectant crowd and froze.
I couldn't remember anything I was supposed to say. I had forgotten all the important dates and interesting facts. I don't think I even remembered the last name of the original owners. (For the record, it was Stanley. You know, just like the name of the hotel.) I stumbled and fumbled as best I could. It was awful. I'm not just saying that. It really was. Luckily, the experienced tour guide was ready to take over for the rest of the tour, while I held back my tears and quietly exited stage left for the safety, security, and solitude of the women's restroom.
Once in the bathroom stall, I let the tears flow. All of the frustration and the embarrassment poured down my cheeks. Mostly I was mad at myself for even thinking I could be a tour guide. I wanted to do the job. I just couldn't. At that moment, I realized I had two choices. I could figure it out, or I could quit. There was no shame in quitting if I truly wasn't cut out to be a tour guide, but if there was even the slimmest chance that I was, I would always regret the chance I didn't take.
With a renewed sense of determination and a passion for the job I wanted to do, I left the safety and security of my hiding place and I figured it out. I did the job so well, in fact, that before long I was representing the hotel on the radio, on television, and at conferences across the country, standing up in front of hundreds of people sharing my passion. I took the chance and I succeeded. I learned that "can't" is just an excuse to allow fear to take control.
So, why did I choose to tell you this story? Well, it's because I am once again hiding in that bathroom stall, trying to decide if I should figure it out or quit. There's no shame in quitting if I'm truly not cut out for this new path I've chosen. But if there is even the slimmest chance that I am, I will always regret the chance I didn't take. I think I know how this ends.
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