Have you ever had so much to say but felt like your tongue turned to lead the moment you opened your mouth? Let me take you back to a time when I spent 15 minutes rehearsing how to introduce myself to a stranger. When the moment finally came, I completely froze. Sound familiar?

Picture this: a networking event in London, a room buzzing with conversation, laughter, and the clinking of glasses. I stood in a corner, clutching a glass of wine like it was the only thing keeping me afloat.
I’d been in London for months but felt like I hadn’t really arrived. I’d rehearsed my opening line the entire journey there: “Hi, I’m Nina. I’m new here and looking to connect with like-minded people.”
Simple. Direct. Perfect.
And then my brain decided it was time for a system failure. My carefully practiced words melted into a puddle of doubt. My inner critic went into overdrive: “What if you sound awkward? What if they think you’re weird?” The silence grew heavier until the opportunity passed. And I… stayed silent.
For many expat women, this moment isn’t just relatable—it’s a recurring nightmare. Whether it’s introducing yourself at a school event, speaking up at work, or making small talk with your neighbor, the fear of getting it wrong can be paralyzing.
But why does this happen? Why do we, as intelligent, accomplished women, freeze when we most want to connect?
We tell ourselves that the solution is simple: just practice more. Rehearse the perfect lines, memorize the perfect phrases. Learn every idiom, every grammar rule, every pronunciation quirk. But here’s the kicker—it’s not about the words.
Sure, language skills matter. But focusing solely on perfecting your English misses the bigger picture. Language is a tool, not a barrier. The real block isn’t what you’re saying—it’s the story you’re telling yourself about what it means if you get it wrong.
I used to think that fluency was the key to belonging. If I could just master every nuance, I’d finally feel at home. But even after years of learning, I’d find myself second-guessing every sentence, replaying conversations in my head, cringing at imagined mistakes. That’s when I realized: I wasn’t just struggling with language. I was wrestling with loneliness, guilt, and shame.
It’s like trying to cross a bridge in the fog. You’re so focused on not misstepping that you’re paralyzed, unable to move forward. The fog isn’t the language; it’s the self-doubt, the fear of being judged, the weight of wanting so badly to fit in.
Here’s the truth that changed everything for me: connection trumps perfection. Speaking up isn’t about impressing others; it’s about being present, being authentic.
To start shifting this mindset:
Acknowledge Your Inner Critic: Notice when those negative thoughts creep in. Instead of believing them, challenge them. “What if I sound weird?” becomes “What if I’m just human, like everyone else?”
Reframe Mistakes: Every misstep is a step forward. When you stumble, you’re not failing; you’re learning. Celebrate the courage it took to speak at all.
Focus on Small Wins: Start with low-stakes conversations. Compliment someone’s scarf at the grocery store. Ask a neighbor about their dog. Build confidence in manageable doses.
Find Your Support System: This might be the most important. Surround yourself with people who get it. Whether it’s a coach, a friend, or a community of like-minded women, connection thrives in safe spaces.
When I stopped obsessing over being perfect, something incredible happened. I started making genuine connections. I learned to laugh at my mistakes, to embrace my accent, to see every conversation as an opportunity rather than a test. The fear didn’t vanish overnight, but it lost its grip.
And the more I leaned into connection over perfection, the more I found my voice. I started seeing myself not as an outsider trying to fit in, but as a woman with a unique story to share. The same can happen for you.
But here’s the hard truth: if you don’t start working on this now, the loneliness will deepen. The guilt will grow heavier. The years will pass, and you’ll find yourself wondering what could have been if only you’d dared to speak up. Don’t let the weight of silence hold you back from the life you deserve.
So, let me ask you this: What would you do differently if you knew no one was judging you?
Until next time, stay grounded. You've got this!
Best,
Coach Nina
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