How do i avoid filler words when nervous?

the day my brain melted in a stand-up

Seven people, one cramped meeting room, me clutching a coffee that tasted like panic.

“Okay, so, um, we, uh, basically…”

That’s as far as I got before product-team-guy raised an eyebrow. I went home and counted: 42 ums in a three-minute update. World record? Maybe. Bragging rights? Zero.

That night I promised myself I’d stop feeding every sentence with verbal popcorn. Spoiler: you can too, and it doesn’t take a personality transplant. It just takes a few small rewires.

what your mouth is doing while your brain freaks out

When anxiety spikes, your brain goes into buffering mode. Thoughts race, words lag, and the gap gets filled with “uh,” “like,” and their shady cousins. Filler words aren’t a moral failure - they’re literally your nervous system trying to buy time. Good to know, because if the nervous system can learn it, it can unlearn it.

catch the ums in the wild

Before you fix a habit, you need to see it. Not guess - see.

1. Voice memo a casual call with a friend (tell them why, so it’s not creepy).

2. Rewatch it once. Don’t judge; just tally the fillers.

3. Notice which moments spark them: big ideas? Transitions? Names you forgot?

Expect to cringe. Cringe is data. Cringe points straight at the bits that need new wiring.

trade noise for breathing space

Here’s the swap that saved me: silence is not failure, silence is punctuation. To teach your body that, run these drills:

• Box breath before you speak: four seconds inhale, four hold, four out. It grounds you faster than any mantra.

• Pause on purpose. Say a sentence, full stop, count “one-Mississippi” in your head, then continue. At first it feels like skydiving without a chute. Keep doing it until the free-fall feeling turns into control.
• Anchor words. Pick a couple phrases you trust: “the key thing is,” “here’s what matters,” “next step.” They’re short on fluff and give your mouth a safe runway while your brain lines up the next thought.

  Do these in front of a mirror. Do them while walking the dog. Your body will start to treat pauses like normal road signs instead of flashing red alarms.

  build low-stakes reps

  Anxiety hates familiarity. So flood it with familiarity.

  – Daily voice note to yourself: 60 seconds on any topic. Listen back once, then delete.

– Join a Discord voice channel or a casual Twitter Space where no one cares about perfect speech. Announce one thought, then bail. Micro exposure works.

– Toastmasters, improv class, open mic - pick the one that sounds least horrible and give it three tries. The room wants you to succeed more than you think.

Track wins: “gave project update, only 3 ums.” Progress stats feel nerdy until you watch them shrink.

keep the vibe, lose the fluff

Important: you don’t need to sound like a TED robot. A few ums are fine. Authentic beats flawless every time. The aim is choice: you decide when a word shows up, not your panic reflex.

On the morning of our next stand-up, I paused, sipped coffee, let one clean breath land, and spoke. No eyebrow drama, no word salad. Someone even asked for my slide deck afterward. Wild.

You’re capable of that pivot. The tools are tiny, but the compounding effect is huge. Breathe, pause, practice in stupidly small chunks, and watch the verbal popcorn vanish.

quick recap so you leave with ammo

1. Record yourself and confront the cringe.

2. Train pauses with box breathing and anchor phrases.

3. Stack low-stakes reps until your nervous system gets bored of panicking.

4. Aim for control, not perfection.

Next time your mouth tries to stall with an “uh,” give it silence instead. Silence, it turns out, sounds a lot like confidence.