Ah, Finally! This is one situation that I certainly know something about, having been raised in a church where speaking in front of a large group is normal, being in productions, and being in concerts, not to mention the ideas I went crazy minded and decided to do small group numbers (and a very few solos). The truth is that since I was a child, I loved talking in front of groups. In fact, I was once told by a teacher to stop volunteering giving talks so that others had the opportunity--that was the last time I volunteered as a matter of fact. Speaking in front of an audience is much easier for me than it is to perform, particularly sing, in front of an audience. That is because I have and can experience severe forms of performance anxiety.
Performance anxiety hits me hard. I remember my first tryout for a community play was one of the first memorable experiences I had with it. When it was my turn to get up and sing, the director stopped me. She walked up to me, made me kneel on the stage so she didn't have to watch me shake, and made me sing directly to her face. It was humiliating, particularly when the people I was trying out with were skilled at performing and singing. It felt like they crushed me into mere dust. I spent the next few days wondering why I even tried. That was the first of many of those same types of experiences. I knew all too well the feeling of both humiliating myself in front of a group and being rejected afterward.
But honestly, I got stubborn and refused to give up being involved in such things. After some time and more difficult attempts, I learned something that helped me deal with this problem a little bit better. Even though the anxiety doesn't completely dissipate, there are ways to manage it so that it doesn't take control over me. These are some of the most important things I've learned:
- Use it. When you recognize the anxiety set in, it's an automatic response to want to fight it and get rid of it. In my case, the reality is that it's not going to go away. It will be there the whole time, but there's a way to turn it so that it loses its power over me. First thing I do is to accept what I'm feeling when I first begin to experience the onset. I don't try to fight it with the hopes that in some miraculous way it will disappear, because doing that makes it worse. If I feel my muscles beginning to tense up, I try to move them slightly so that it doesn't attract attention in order to loosen them up. If my heart jumps a beat and I feel that sudden sensation of panic shooting through my body, I try to ignore it and not give it any attention. I don't need to feed it more than it already has. I find the advantage here is that there is an enormous amount of adrenaline going on in this moment. That adrenaline if redirected can actually be beneficial. I've had times when that adrenaline has helped me sing better, because sometimes I really have a problem singing out. It's helped me speak louder when I need to. It can be a great source of power if used beneficially.
- Prepare. This is a big one. Some of my most difficult situations came down to this vital point. When it came to singing for tryouts, my problem was that I was a shy singer, and was too shy to ask people to play the music for me, so I went off of some recordings I had, which were instrumentals that were never intended to be used as singing arrangements. Thus the lack of practice and the lack of preparing myself to actually sing *gasp* in public *double gasp* caused a lot of the problems I experienced with my tryouts. I was actually pretty confident when I knew what I was doing. Surprise, surprise.
- Remember in most circumstances the general audience isn't intending to critique you. There's an exception with tryouts, of course, and that was so difficult for me to overlook, but in situations such as being in a play or concert, the audience is there to be entertained and have fun. Even with speaking before a group in a convention or conference, the group is there to get motivated and inspired. I love seeing friendly faces in the crowd.
- Focus on the positive. Your palms might be producing enough sweat to fill the Nile and your legs might be as jiggly as gelatin, but don't let that get to you. Easier said than done, right? It can be done. Don't obsess over that mistake you made in such-and-such a place. It was one mistake over how many you got right. Was it even big enough for anyone to notice it besides you? Even if it was, what really is there to do about it, except move on and fix it if there's a next time. Instead of thinking what you did wrong, think about the things you did right that worked out beautifully. Take compliments and avoid celebrating too much when it's all over.
- Avoid too much self-criticism. As an extension of the last, never ever mull over the mistakes so much that you beat yourself up over the problems and awkward moments you're almost guaranteed to experience. Almost everyone experiences those, but some are able to hide it, cover it up, or twist it into a jovial moment a little more skillfully than others. Self evaluation can have its benefits, but when it reaches the point when you're beating yourself up for being a human who makes errors, you need to stop. Come into the situation completely accepting that imperfection and mistakes are highly possible to occur, but also realize you're doing your best, and that's all that matters. Truth is that most people prefer a little human imperfection.
- Use humor if possible. I know how difficult it can be to make a joke or get goofy when you're freaking out about everything going on, but it's been advice I've heard for a long time. There's something about laughter that exterminates the dead seriousness that's wreaking havoc inside of you, and if you can get them to laugh hard, you have my ultimate respect. I've tried it a few times to me, and it is empowering. I leave that situation feeling lighthearted and almost hyper rather than upset.
On the note about audience size. I've often heard that large audiences are more scary, but in my experience it's the smaller ones that are the scariest. Let me explain. For me, it's in the smaller audiences that I can see faces. I can see every one of those eyes staring at me. I can see all of their facial expressions. I always said the larger, the better, because frankly, when a group gets to a certain size, all of the faces start to blend together. Of course, it's not hard to pick out a face or two in the first rows, but most of it's a blur. I once described it as looking at a movie screen. Perhaps it was the stage lights shining in my eyes that gave that effect, but all of the sudden, it felt like it was just me and those performing with me who were real. So crowd size doesn't bother me at all.
