“I’m not gay – I need to make that perfectly clear.” I heard the words stumble out of my mouth and looked at the embarrassed, slightly amazed faces of the executives around the boardroom table at a sleek American investment bank in Canary Wharf.
I felt totally overwhelmed – the critical voice in the back of my head told me I was a fraud, I was going to fail – my throat was dry, my hands were sweating and I wanted to bolt for the door.
At its most extreme, anxiety can totally disable us. The panic of just showing up and being authentic means some of us construct yet another closet in which to hide – the confines of our own minds.