As with most things in my life, I’m a walking contradiction. It freaks me out to be the center of attention, yet here I am, publishing another personal column—on my birthday, no less. Standing in a room full of people makes me feel claustrophobic, but I’m usually in attendance for most big events in our community. All it took was a rise in temperature for all my contradictions to align.

Recently, my team went to a groundbreaking event with a few hundred other people. It’s late June in North Carolina, where the temperatures outside range from Purgatory to Hell depending on the time of day. The event organizers did all they could to maintain the comfort of their guests, but the heat won in the end. Most groundbreaking ceremonies are under 30 minutes, so I didn’t think too much of it when I started to feel a little sick due to the heat.

Mind you, I’m standing with half a dozen other media representatives from various outlets. I noticed a few glances my way and realized I wasn’t hiding my discomfort well. As the speakers thanked all those responsible for diversifying the local economy, my discomfort turned into an unavoidable situation. This was all happening while I was behind a tripod, live on Facebook.

An hour into the event, iPhones were shutting off due to the heat. The world tilted, and I sat down on the ground. Imaginary or real, the feel of people watching me exacerbated the situation. Mental images of what it would look like if I passed out began running through my mind. To make matters worse, nausea rolled up to say hello.

So, there I was, covered in sweat, sitting on the ground, hand over mouth, hoping above all things that I didn’t embarrass myself. This was far more concerning than what was going on with my health. In that moment, I would rather have died than pass out or throw up in a room full of people. I knew if I did, I’d have to move. I’d never be able to face these people again. Extreme? I’ve run for less. I’m a fight-or-flight person who hates fighting.

Luckily, I was rescued by someone who truly understands how to avoid calling attention to a situation. Saved by a bottle of water and a garbage can, I managed to get through the rest of the event and the southern exit, which requires speaking to every single person in the room at least once.

We got back to the air-conditioned office, and everything was fine from then on. What I appreciated the most was the lack of discussion about what had happened. It was yet another example of how blessed I am to do what I do, with the people I do it with. They get me, and all my quirks. Which worked out great for me, because running away at 45 feels a little ridiculous.

When it was all over, I shared the day’s events with Derrick, my fiancé. He immediately asked if TundraTown would make me feel better. (It did). He gets me, too.