I am afraid and I am fine.

My heart beats strongly, my hands are damp with sweat, and the incessant desire to adjust myself in the chair, fix my tie or arrange the sleeves of my shirt, become inevitable rituals before turning on the microphone. This prior process, this moment of vulnerability, is a battle waged within me. In those moments, the initial stress invades me, and I feel trapped between the desire to flee and the need to face the audience.

It is at this point that I immerse myself in intense concentration, desperately seeking that state of absolute focus that allows me to overcome the fear that paralyzes me. Every gesture becomes a desperate attempt to calm my nerves: I adjust my tie with my hands, take a sip of water, straighten my back, breathe deeply trying to find a glimmer of serenity. Gradually, my mind clears and I begin to feel a deep connection with the environment.

In this process, I have discovered that breathing deeply and listening attentively to others before my intervention is fundamental. I strive to understand what page they are on, to grasp their mood and expectations. With that empathy, I ensure that what I have prepared is not in dissonance with the atmosphere, and that I have enough elements to contribute something relevant. This exercise of active listening and adaptation is a balm for my nerves, a way to find my center in the midst of the storm.

I start to speak, immersing myself in a kind of hypnotic trance. The words flow with a fluidity that can only be the result of preparation, practice, and understanding. Some time ago, I started writing my speeches as poems and songs, seeking to establish a cadence and rhythm that captivate the audience. If someone were to see the text I read, they would be surprised; they would not find conventional prose, but verses and stanzas of four or five lines each. This structure allows me to calibrate the inflections of my voice and make precise pauses at just the right moment. So yes, they are right who say I don’t write speeches, but compose poems and songs that convey the message in a unique way.

I carefully select each word to create a symphony of ideas that connect with the hearts and minds of those who listen to me. I intertwine the verses like silk threads, weaving a tapestry of emotions and concepts, seeking not only to inform but also to inspire and transform. It is a delicate art, a balance between reason and passion, between logic and poetry. Sometimes I succeed, sometimes I don’t.

The full awareness of having a captive audience envelops me like a protective mantle. Sometimes when I make strategic pauses between phrases or deliberate silences, the room has been plunged into a sepulchral silence, so deep that one could hear the fluttering of a butterfly or the soft brush of a pin dropping. For me, that is the famous deafening sound some speak of. At that precise moment, I feel that I rise, that nothing can touch me, that I radiate an electrifying energy not only to all those present in the room but also to those who listen to me through television, computer, mobile, or radio. My intention is to establish an almost spiritual connection that transcends physical barriers and reaches people’s hearts.

When those moments of deep connection arrive, I try to turn my voice into a bridge to unite people, inviting them to reflect, to question themselves, and to dream of a better world. Each word I utter carries with it the hope of sowing a seed of change, of inspiring others to raise their voices and fight for what they believe in. It sounds beautiful, and it is. It is a privilege and a responsibility that I embrace with humility and determination.

I confess that at the pinnacle of my interventions, I have felt an avalanche of emotions that has brought me to the brink of tears. I am not ashamed to admit it. My voice has broken from the intensity of feeling, and I have seen how my peers are also moved to shed a tear or two. However, I understand the need to balance emotion with the substance of the message. I not only seek to move but also to communicate with propriety and depth. Achieving that balance is a constant challenge. Emotion is not an artifice to attract attention, but a genuine manifestation that I deeply feel the message. It is a reflection that I have appropriated the message, that I am convinced and fully aware of every word I utter. No one writes my speeches for me. They are the result of hours of study, research, and consultations that culminate in a three- or four-page document.

Thus, each of those speeches is an introspective journey, a process of personal discovery and growth. I immerse myself in a sea of information, diving among data, statistics, and testimonies, seeking the pearls of wisdom that can illuminate the path. Then, like an alchemist of words, I try to transform that knowledge into an elixir that can be drunk by all, that can nourish the minds and hearts of those who listen.

What can compare to that? Having the opportunity to represent so many, and on top of that inspire, and transmit love… I treasure these moments as the most valuable memories of my life.

My fear transmutes into an indescribable satisfaction. The best way to say it is that it is a unique sensation, an explosion of euphoria that fills me with infinite gratitude towards life. This mixture of fear and ecstasy is undoubtedly a kind of pleasurable masochism, an experience that, despite its overwhelming intensity, I am grateful for from the depths of my being. I am grateful because, despite being an introverted and shy person, I have had the privilege of being on collective stages where I can make a difference.

It was in those moments of ecstasy that I understood the true meaning of my work. It is not only about representing a nation but about embodying the noblest values of humanity. It is about being a beacon of hope in a world often plunged into darkness, building bridges where others build walls, sowing love where others sow hatred. It is a titanic task, but it is also an honor and a privilege that I have embraced with every fiber of my being.

Although it may seem incredible, I am extremely reserved, shy, and social environments are overwhelming to me. It may seem ironic that someone with my personality has chosen this profession, but diplomacy goes far beyond mere social interaction. Whenever I don’t have an assigned seat, I instinctively look for a chair in a corner or near an exit door. It is a defense mechanism, a way to protect myself and find escape routes. This attitude reflects my withdrawn nature and the constant search for safe havens in the midst of the crowd.

However, I learned to embrace my introversion as a strength, as a gift that allows me to observe, analyze, and understand the world in a unique way. My tendency to seek refuge in corners has given me a privileged perspective, an ability to see what others might overlook. And it is precisely that vision that I try to capture in my speeches, the one that allows me to contribute a different and necessary voice in the world of diplomacy.

However, stage fright in diplomacy has an additional dimension that makes it even more challenging. It is not only about the fear of public speaking but about the overwhelming responsibility of representing your nation with dignity, of being the voice of millions of compatriots, and of carrying out foreign policy with unshakable integrity and indomitable firmness. Diplomacy is an art where improvisation must be limited, and exhaustive preparation, discipline, and deep knowledge must be the fundamental pillars.

And well, it is a delicate balance, a constant dance between spontaneity and strategy, between passion and reason. Every word I utter, every gesture I make, every decision I take has the potential to affect things and remain in history, to influence destiny. The records and transcriptions of those encounters will be inscribed in the annals of history for later generations to read, learn, and question. It is a heavy burden, but it is also a privilege that I have embraced with humility and determination.

So, my stage fright, far from being a weakness, has become an inexhaustible source of strength. Every time I face it, I remember that I am following a path that transcends my own individuality, a path that represents the collective effort of an entire nation. I choose to face each critical moment with courage, with the firm and calm conviction that true courage does not lie in the absence of fear, but in the ability to act despite it, to embrace that fear and transform it into the fuel that drives my determination.

It is in those moments of fear and courage that I feel my spirit expanding, that my purpose crystallizes with blinding clarity. Each challenge becomes an opportunity to grow, to learn, to demonstrate what human beings are made of when we face the impossible. And it is in that constant struggle, in that unconditional embrace of fear, where I find my true strength, my true essence.

Most of the time, I did not fully appreciate the impact of my words at the moment. It was always a little later, upon seeing a video or receiving comments, that I realized what it was. In those moments, I surprise myself, and I almost don’t recognize myself. I conclude that it is not me, that it is the ambassador character that I have to play.

But deep down, I know that that character and I are one and the same, that every word I speak, every emotion I convey, every connection I establish is an extension of my most authentic self. Diplomacy is not a mask I put on, but a mirror that reflects my true self, a self that I may not always recognize, but that I embrace with pride and gratitude.

And so, in this constant journey between fear and courage, between introversion and exposure, between character and person, I found my path, my purpose, my reason for being. I found the strength to embrace fear, to transform it into my most powerful ally, to use it as a trampoline.

Because, at the end of the day, for me that is what it means to be a diplomat: to have the courage to face our deepest fears, to raise our voices on behalf of those who cannot, to fight for a more just, more peaceful, more humane world. It is a privilege, a responsibility, and an honor that I embrace with every beat of my heart, with every word I speak, with every connection I establish.

And so, with fear as my constant companion and courage as my banner, I will move forward, continue to embrace every challenge, every opportunity, every moment of this extraordinary journey that is life. Because, in the end, that is what it means to be alive: to have the courage to face our fears, to pursue our dreams, and to leave our mark on this world.