Performance Anxiety
[Please see entries below for the heartbr-- er, hilarious beginning of this saga.]
As a neophyte opera chorus member, I tried not to be too hard on myself, but after weeks of struggle, I was still rehearsing new apologies and fishing for reassurance from anyone who would listen. I grew up believing that I could and should do anything I set my mind to. It was a momentous discovery in my 20s that I could actually utter the words “I don’t know” and live to tell the tale. Even now, it seems anathema to give up on something I’ve truly tried to do. But I simply cannot find those C# notes during rehearsal, no matter how well I nail them at home. If I try to stuff my pitch pipe into my obi (kimono belt) and sneak it out for furtive bleats behind my fan, they’ll undoubtedly spot it and frisk me every night for the rest of the run. Telling myself that I’m losing IQ points by the day doesn’t help. So, recalling the expertise I used as a cognitive therapist in my former career, I conducted an internal interview, as follows:
How many voice lessons have you had in your life?
One.
How long ago did you sing in a choir?
Several decades.
Did you get individual instruction while singing in this choir?
[Me: smothered guffaw]
When you were living in Italy, did you speak regular conversational Italian or poetic libretto Italian?
Regular conversation.
How long ago was this?
Several decades. One year in Florence.
Is poetic libretto Italian difficult?
Yes, there’s no rational correlation between words and notes.
Have you ever sung in the chorus of an opera?
No, but I was in the chorus of Finian’s Rainbow for six performances when I was 20.
How did that go?
Lots of accidents and illnesses among the cast, most of them onstage. By the end of the run, the head usher was asking physicians to identify themselves at the door.
Were you one of the casualties?
Yes.
What was the nature of your accident?
Broke my foot onstage during “That Great Come and Get It Day.” I still can’t do some yoga positions. I tell people it’s an old dancing injury.
Could this experience have colored your view of the safety of the performing arts?
Gee, I hadn’t thought about that in years.
Really? Let your mind go back to that period of your life…..
At this point I realize I am not dealing with a true cognitive therapist, who would continue the session as follows:
How much are you being paid to sing in this chorus?
Paid?
So, to sum up, you are doing something you haven’t done in decades, in a foreign language, as a volunteer, with limited rehearsal time, at a higher level of expertise than you have ever attempted before. Is this correct?
Gee, now that you put it that way, maybe it’s no surprise that I’m struggling.
This reminds me of an interchange I had with a client some years ago. A musician wanted an orchestra job but feared the tryout, saying she hadn’t been practicing enough. I wasn’t sure whether this was true; she was so self-critical that she never gave herself credit for anything. In the weeks before the tryout, she vacillated between extremes of hope and doubt, unsure whether to even attend the audition. One day, halfway through her therapy session, she said, oh, by the way, she got the job. “Congratulations!” I exclaimed. She didn’t respond with the happy enthusiasm one would expect. (This is not unusual among bulimics). I repeated my congratulations. She shrugged. “They probably gave it to me out of pity.”
“Why would they do that? You’re thinking they’re going to fill the first violinist chair in a professional orchestra, someone they’ll have to play with in public – for pity?”
“Well, they probably knew it was me.” This really baffled me.
“How could they not know it was you?”
“Oh, you can tell sometimes.” This was getting mysteriouser and mysteriouser.
She added, “Maybe they could see behind the screen.”
“There’s a screen?”
“Oh, yeah. Auditions are supposed to be anonymous.”
“Oh, I see. They have a list of the candidates – ”
“Not exactly. The day before, I told them I wasn’t coming. I just went on the spur of
the moment.”
“Let me get this straight. You believe that people who can’t see you, who don’t even
know you are there, who are putting their own reputations on the line, hired you out of
pity?”
[This true story was published in my book How People Recover from Eating Disorders available from Xlibris.com or from me at author’s discount price]