I remember the day shyness took over my life. I was 14 years old and in the middle of a French conversation lesson at school. I loved French, probably because I fancied myself as some kind of chic Parisian, sipping espresso in a corner cafe. We were in the brand new language laboratory, with its cassette players that were very flash for the time. The teacher told us to record ourselves speaking about a film we had seen recently. Perfect. I recorded myself, in the most English of French accents, with utter confidence. Then, I pressed “play” to listen back. All I heard was a little kid talking. Where was the highly insightful monologue I had just recorded?

My immediate reaction was to assume I was listening to someone else’s tape, or that I had hit the wrong button. But then, it dawned on me. That was my voice. And there it was. At 2pm on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, I realised there was something weird about me.

I vowed that from that moment on that I would hide myself away so that nobody would notice me and my little voice. Never again would I phone someone I didn’t know, speak up in front of people, be in any kind of show or performance, present my work in a group situation or, God forbid, leave a message on an answering machine.

Rationally, I know it is not a huge deal, and some people tell me they don’t even notice my voice. But, over the years, I have schlepped to all kinds of vocal lessons to help me get some gravelly gravitas. Talk about giving a girl a complex. Imagine being “encouraged” to spend hours lying on the floor like Colin Firth in The King’s Speech, breathing deeply into my stomach in an attempt to transform my tone.

While my little voice might be perfect for cartoon voiceover work, professionally, it has made me feel really shy. I always worried people wouldn’t take me seriously. My shyness has caused me to avoid attending events and conferences, not make important connections, avoid difficult conversations, keep my opinions and ideas to myself, watch as other people get the credit I deserve, and create stuff and not promote it.

Basically, I have avoided pushing myself forward. And I have felt as if I wasn’t cut out for success. Whether you are at work, at school, running a business or doing a sport, so much emphasis is placed on “being seen”, “showing up”, “putting yourself out there”, and “raising your profile”. It is inescapable. And yet, what I have wanted to do most in my life is hide.

As a shy person, working from home, hiding behind my computer was brilliant. The trouble is, the more time I spent hidden away, the more my comfort zone shrank. Every-day interactions, like ordering a coffee, became increasingly awkward and uncomfortable.

I felt more and more distanced from the picture of success I had in my mind. And because I felt so self-conscious, I withdrew even further, until I felt as if I was living in the background of my own life and business.

And then, one day I was at a big conference and it suddenly hit me like a lightning bolt. All the speakers were seemingly confident extroverts, comfortable with being seen. Of course they were. There were no quieter voices. But the trouble is, if the loud dominant voices are the only ones you hear, we quiet people feel even more alienated. The world needs a mixture of personalities, perspectives and skills to function. Success is not just about who can shout the loudest or bulldoze other people out of the way.

That was it. That day I chose to make a change; to stop hiding and embrace my shyness. No more allowing my shyness to control me and keep me from fulfilling my potential. No more feeling like I needed to change who I am in order to succeed. No more living a small life.

Making a change is a lot easier when you are surrounded by people who get you. And that’s why I created the Shy and Mighty Society – a space for shy people like me to shine, so that, together, we can step out of the shadows. And because I’m focused on helping other people to overcome the aspects of their shyness that are holding them back, I’m able to push myself forward, bit by bit.

Now, I’m happy to tell people I feel shy. I’m not ashamed any more. And I know that I’m not alone.