One short email a week.

Two or three minutes to read. It keeps coming until you leave.

One short email a week. Leave whenever you want.

Nothing in the subject line ever says what these emails are about. The name it comes from sits there the way any sender name does, and the line beside it says nothing at all.

What arrives.

One idea per email, in the order they build on each other. It carries on past the ones listed here, because there is always another week.

  • The first ten seconds: the fear starts before anyone has looked.
  • Nobody is counting: what the research says about how much people notice.
  • What you are actually afraid of: being seen, and how little of it is about the colour.
  • Where your attention goes: the idea the whole approach rests on.
  • A small one: the first step, chosen by you.
  • The days you skip: why consistency beats intensity.
  • What the guide is and is not.
  • Waiting your turn: the worst part is almost never the speaking.
  • The only animal that does this: Darwin named the loop in 1872.
  • Why relax is not advice: the one trial that compared it properly.
  • What the room actually thinks: measured, and not what you expect.
  • What helps and what only feels like it: the two kinds of hiding.
  • Coffee, wine and a bad night: what is known, and what is guessed.

What does not happen.

  • Nothing in the subject line ever says what these emails are about. Not once. That is the whole reason they are written the way they are.
  • Every email has a leave link. It asks which of five reasons applies, and then it is done. No page trying to talk you out of it.
  • Your address is used for these emails and nothing else. It is not sold, rented or handed to anyone.

Here is the first one, in full.

Read it before you decide. These emails are the method itself, not a sample of it, so there is no reason to keep the first one behind an address.

Subject

The first ten seconds

Here is the part that gets described wrong.

You are in a room. Someone is going to ask you something, or read out a name, or turn round. Nothing has happened yet. And you already know.

That is the first ten seconds. Your body starts arranging itself for an event that has not occurred. By the time the blush arrives it is late to the scene. The fear got there first, alone, while the room was still talking about something else.

This matters because of what it changes. If the problem is the colour, then the only move you have is to stop the colour, and you cannot, and every failed attempt teaches you that you are broken. If the problem is those ten seconds, you have somewhere to stand.

That is what these emails are about. Not the face. The ten seconds.

One thing to notice this week, and nothing else. When it happens, see whether it started before or after you had a reason. Do not fix anything. Just find out.

Next week: how much the room actually sees, and the study that measured it.

Leave these emails. One question on the way out, and then it stops.

One short email a week. Leave whenever you want.

Nothing in the subject line ever says what these emails are about. The name it comes from sits there the way any sender name does, and the line beside it says nothing at all.

If this is taking pieces out of your life, a doctor or a psychologist is the right next step, and asking for one is a normal thing to do. This site is not a substitute for that.