I am eight years old, standing in front of my class. My teacher has called me to the board to recite the multiplication table for eight.

I start confidently. Eight times one is eight. Eight times two is sixteen. I keep going. Eight times six is forty-eight. Eight times seven is...

Nothing.

My mind goes blank. I don’t know how much it is. I stand there, silent, while my classmates watch.

I feel shame. I eventually sit back down, but the scene is stored in my mind.

Somewhere deep in my nervous system, a rule gets written: speaking in front of people is dangerous.

Fast forward twenty years. I am a sales leader at Google, and I have organized a large event. I have invited Kirk Perry, the President of Google's global sales, to speak to my clients who flew from all over Europe to attend.

As I walk onto the stage to introduce him, a doubt creeps in. Kirk Perry. Kirk Vallis. There are two Kirks at Google. What if I am confusing them? I am sleep-deprived. I have a newborn at home. The event preparation had been stressful.

I step up to the microphone. “Please welcome... Kirk...”

I freeze. I do not want to make a mistake. It is obvious to the audience that I cannot remember his surname. The moment stretches. “Welcome, Kirk, to the stage,” I repeat, but the damage is done.

The sting of embarrassment burns me once again, and my subconscious takes note: See? I told you. Stages are dangerous.

I have come to believe that we are almost never afraid of the future. We are afraid the past will repeat itself.

We are afraid of experiencing again an unpleasant feeling of the past that was too much to bear.

But fear will keep you from living connected to your vision.

I eventually gave a TEDx talk, watched by hundreds of thousands of people. I had to work with my fear. I had to rewrite the story and regulate my nervous system.

Here are the nine strategies that got me there.