No One Showed Up… But I Didn’t Quit
- 2 days ago
- 3 min read
By Shayla Burtin
As an introvert with social anxiety, I’ve always carried a quiet fear: if I ever invited people to something of my own, no one would come. That fear was strong enough to keep me from hosting even a simple gathering.
This past April, I decided to face it. I planned my first in-person networking event for introverted women, the kind of supportive space I wished had existed for me. I poured my heart into it, searching for the right venue, designing the event flow, creating graphics, and putting tickets on sale. For weeks I carried equal parts excitement and dread. I imagined women walking in, finally finding relief that they didn’t have to force themselves into the traditional networking mold. I wanted so badly to create that safe space.
And then…nothing. Not a single ticket sold.
The night of the event, I sat at home devastated. For me, it wasn’t just disappointing. It felt like confirmation of the story I had carried for years: “You’re not the kind of person people show up for.” The silence was heavy, and the embarrassment was real. I remember asking myself why I thought I could do this in the first place.
In those first few days, I even considered giving up on the idea entirely. I told myself maybe I was better off sticking to online spaces. But the thought of women continuing to feel unseen and unsupported in real life kept pulling at me.
That moment could have been the end. I could have sworn off events entirely and retreated to the safety of working quietly online, where rejection is less visible. But after the initial sting wore off, I realized I had a choice: let fear win, or try again.
Choosing resilience over retreat didn’t mean pretending the failure didn’t hurt. It meant deciding to move forward anyway. I sat with the pain of that failure and then began to ask myself what I could learn from it. Where did I go wrong? What could I do differently next time?
The answer came in the form of small, strategic adjustments. Instead of a paid event, I decided to host a free one. Instead of worrying about filling the room, I focused on creating a welcoming environment, even if only a handful of women attended. I leaned into my introversion, designing the event around small conversations, gentle prompts, and connection without pressure.
The result was different. Women registered. Not hundreds, but enough to show me that my first failure wasn’t the end of the story. It was only the beginning of learning how to do this in a way that worked for me.
What I learned is that resilience often begins at the very point where you feel like giving up. My worst fear had already come true, and I survived it. That gave me a new kind of freedom. I was no longer paralyzed by “what if.” I knew I could endure the disappointment, learn from it, and come back stronger.
I also learned to see my introversion and social anxiety in a new light. Instead of treating them as barriers, I began to see them as guides. They pushed me to design experiences that feel safe, intentional, and nourishing for people like me and I know others will benefit from that too.
I’ve realized that the moments that sting the most often carry the deepest lessons. If failure is the worst-case scenario, surviving it proves that we’re stronger than we think. That truth applies whether you’re building a business, pursuing a dream, or simply trying something new.
Today, I’m still nervous every time I invite people to something new. But I no longer let the fear of empty chairs dictate what I build. Instead, I remind myself that resilience isn’t about perfection. It’s about showing up for your vision, even when others don’t.
My challenge didn’t just teach me how to host events. It taught me how to keep going when the outcome doesn’t look like what I imagined. And that is a lesson I’ll carry with me in business and in life: sometimes your fear comes true, but your growth begins when you try again anyway.
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