Behind The Scenes of The Big Stage
Recently I took the stage at Speaker Slam - North America's largest inspirational speaking competition. It was a big deal, an exciting event, and an honour to share the stage with so many incredible people and get to share a part of my story.
In the professional speaking world, appearances matter (obviously). Everyone wants to put on the best face and the best performance they can.
I was recently inspired by my friend and peer Kara Latta. In April 2025, Kara performed at Generation Women here in Toronto. Kara had been in the audience in October 2024 when I performed at Generation Women to deliver my 'Alter Egos' talk.
That event was the unofficial launch of my professional speaking career.
Kara shared on instagram recently what was going on in her life the day of the event she spoke at. How close she came to not being able to take the stage, because of so much emotional turmoil in her life. Things beyond her control.
During my Speaker Slam speech, I mentioned how I had ended up in the hospital at one point due to stress.
What I have not revealed publicly (as of yet) is that my hospital incident was 5 days after my Generation Women performance (GW didn't cause it, to be clear!). I was on the brink of collapse, but I would have rather them drag me on stage and slump me over a podium than not give that speech.
I've reflected on that a lot.
This process of a career change, of daring - insisting - to invest into myself and take risks to build the life I want - it isn't easy.
As the saying goes - "nothing worth doing is easy"
I got booked for Speaker Slam right at the end of March 2025. So in theory that meant I had nearly 2 full months to prepare.
This was fantastic, because I'd barely had time and energy to prepare for Generation Women. I was very burnt out leading up to GW (as evidenced by landing in the hospital 5 days later), burning the candle on every end because that felt like the only way to actually progress towards my goals.
I remember getting off stage at Generation Women and having so many people tell me they LOVED my talk.
Of course all I could think was 'how can they say that was a great performance when that was only about 40% of what I know I'm capable of? I can do SO much better!'
There's another popular saying - We are all our own worst critic.
But this is my passion, so not being able to give my best hurts my soul and my pride. Even if people were still impressed, I was disappointed I couldn't give more from that stage.
That night, 40% was all I had in the tank to give because my job was taking the rest with prejudice.
So having two whole months to prepare for Speaker Slam? I was going to be able to bring 100% to that stage! I was going to be a FORCE.
Then a month before Speaker Slam I got a call from a former colleague with an opportunity that I couldn't say no to. Not just for the experience and connections, but financially.
The kicker?
It was a film gig, and it ran for 2 weeks ending the day before Speaker Slam.
If you've never worked in film, the two main aspects of it are:
1. LONG days. 12-14hrs is typical. 7am-7pm plus commute in my case.
2) CHAOS. It's rare that everything goes perfectly to plan and no fires need to be put out.
People burn out from film gigs. You don't get to 'have a life' outside of set. You work, to get what sleep you can, and then you repeat. You make good money, and you make something special in the process, but it's definitely a physical and mental sacrifice.
People have heart attacks from working in film for too long. Of course I wasn't in any danger of a heart attack, but I knew this wasn't going to be a walk in the park either.
And so instead of having several weeks to refine and memorize my speech, in a low stress, well-slept environment as expected... I had to 'fit it in' among these long, chaotic days.
It felt ironic. Almost like the universe was saying to me 'I know you can rise to a challenge, so why did you think I was going to let this be easy?'
I have a video I recorded on my cell phone from one day during the shoot. I had to go drive to pick up some equipment, and I took a moment to park off to the side in this industrial area.
I started a practice run through of my speech in the car. As if on queue, this parking lot went from absolutely nothing happening to having two different 18 wheelers doing a tango so one of them could 'dock' and the other could leave. And this started happening half way into my speech, and I wasn't sure if I was going to be in the way or get hit.
I watched the video back later and just laughed as I watched myself reciting my speech while looking over my shoulder repeatedly, asking myself 'is he going to hit me?'
The good news is that was a pretty good sign that I had that speech memorized, because even with that ridiculous distraction, I didn't forget a word. And the trucks didn't hit me.
I worked seven straight 12-14 hour days, the final day being the day before Speaker Slam. It wasn't what I'd wanted, but that's what the contract stipulated.
The morning of Speaker Slam, I woke up at 3am. Not by choice, but my body had gotten used to waking up between 4-5am for the film gig. So when I became conscious, I couldn't get back to sleep. I was still tired, but it didn't matter. I was awake.
Fortunately, I was scheduled to go on stage first that night.
People normally don't want the opener slot, but I was glad to have it. I wanted to just get up there and do my thing, and then be able to relax and enjoy the rest of the show.
During my speech I mentioned my autism.
One of the struggles I have with my autism is sensory issues. When I get tired, it feels like the volume and brightness knobs on reality get turned up several notches. Everything becomes too loud and too bright, and I become much more prone to headaches or migraines.
For a few moments while standing back stage, waiting to go on, the music in the venue was PUMPING so loud I almost couldn't see straight. I was at hour 14 of my day at that point (3 am to 7 pm), far from my peak for performing. But I'm stubborn and determined, and I was going to give it my all, no matter what. I had done all I could to prepare for this.
I took a breath, and I stepped out on stage. And I delivered about as well as I could have.
I "commanded the stage". That's a direct quote from the show producer.
I didn't forget a single word.
I am really proud of myself. But I also knew once the dust had settled that I wanted to share that behind that really 'calm, professional, poised' delivery, was a lot of struggle. Very non-ideal circumstances. Far from easy.
This is what the neurodiversity community calls 'masking'. Where we hide our struggles (and quirks), we put on a brave 'normal' face because often we have to. The world isn't built for us.
If we want a seat at the table, we can't just ask for it - we have to mask for it too. Most of the time anyway.
I know neurotypicals have to bend sometimes too. Introverts have to pretend to be extroverts at networking events. Women might have to pretend to be 'one of the boys' in a male dominated company or industry. But then you throw on top of that all the sensory stuff - which again is amplified by being tired (and what serious professional isn't tired?!)
This is often what being a 'professional' requires. Making it 'look easy' when it was anything but. But if you want it bad enough, you grin and bear it.
The closing words in my speech are very true:
"The stage is my happy place, it's where I get to shine the brightest". Like this:
That was how much this mattered to me. Nothing was going to stop me. If I hadn't felt well, they could have slumped me over a podium with that headset mic, and I would have given that speech the best I could.
I've had other speakers at various events say to me as I walk off stage 'aren't you so glad that's over?!' and I genuinely reply 'if they asked me to go back up and talk more, I would!'
It's not always hard, I don't want to imply that. Lots of neurodivergent people are high performing professionals and entrepreneurs. I'm just sharing my experience in this one particular case which was an unusual and difficult circumstance.
I was really grateful when Kara shared her truth, and I messaged her and told her about my truth from my turn at the same event. How we both had to get up on stage on the verge of non-function, put on a brave face and inspire the room.
That's why I do this, that's why I will push through the difficulty. Because there is nowhere else I would rather be. The hard part for me is often the waiting to actually get on stage part.
Having 'good health' isn't always a choice I get to make. But choosing to still get up and perform is a choice I do get to make. And I will always say yes to that if I can.
Thank you for witnessing my shine.
What was the last hard thing you had to push through but you're really glad you did?
Lacey Artemis (she/they) is a neurodivergent speaker, consultant, and media producer. She is the founder of Neuromix Consulting which provides sensory accessibility and neuro-inclusion consulting, as well as anti-burnout play workshops. You can find out more at www.neuromixconstulting.com.
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