Pages

Friday, April 29, 2022

How I Deal with Performance Anxiety

 I've shared numerous amounts of times about my struggle with performance anxiety, a.k.a. stage fright. I thought after reflecting on my last time standing in front of a group (which happened to be only a few weeks ago on Easter) that I would like to share my experience in a little more detail and how I deal with it.

Being in the spotlight isn't natural to me, nor is being the center of attention. I'm not used to it. When I come into situations that require those things can be extremely stressful, because it's taking me into a situation of the unfamiliar. As one who's usually swallowed up within or pushed to back of the crowd, standing in front of one is as unfamiliar as it comes. What to do or expect doesn't always come easily. The not knowing is the kindling to the anxiety, which for me it can ignite in a split second. A lot of people say that this type of anxiety comes from fear of people judging them, but I've discovered--at least on my part--that it's not as much fearing the people as it is fearing myself. I'm afraid of doing something stupid that someone will see or making a huge mistake in front of everyone. I'm afraid of not connecting, of not being able to get my message across like I know I can. I'm afraid of sounding like a blathering idiot. I'm afraid my body will shake so much that I can't control it. The list goes on, but as you see in all of these points, I'm clearly afraid of myself, of my imperfect humanness. Vulnerability is an exceedingly scary thing.

My performance anxiety began to develop as a teenager. The first clear memory I have of experiencing it was when I was taking piano lessons. I don't remember being nervous during my first piano recital, but I remember one time when I was invited to take part in some sort of piano workshop or competition that took place at BYU, which was the closest university to my community. We had to sit through everyone playing their pieces. My sister was there also. In all of the things I've experienced in these situations, there's nothing that feeds my anxiety as well as having to sit and wait: no way to physically work it out of my system and no way to distract from the rhythm of the adrenaline driven heart pumping or the building muscle tension. In that particular experience, I had a brain freeze during my playing. I ended up getting an excellent out of it despite the nervousness. That struggle continued to spread to other things. It became the main issue that convinced me to leave band and give up my flute (which I picked up again several years later), led to my most embarrassing and humiliating moment during my first play tryout, and became a struggle that continued ever since.

I once had a girl ask me why I didn't try anxiety medication, because I was complaining about how nervous I get. I didn't really give her an answer. The truth is that I don't want the medication unless it's absolutely necessary--for some it is, but I don't think it is for me. The truth is that I don't want to numb the experience. There are some amazing things I've experienced and learned by going through it, and I've learned more about the what and why behind it as well as how to deal with it when it occurs. For me, I've gone the cognitive retraining route. It's taken years of learning, but as I mentioned in a recent previous post, it's so amazing to look back and see the improvement. There are a few points I learned that have helped me:

  1. Recognize and accept what you're feeling. There's no shame that you're feeling nervous about what's about to happen. It's normal.
  2. Resist the urge to fight it. This is easier said than done. When those uncomfortable physical responses to the stress kick in, it's common to feel afraid of those sensations. The urge to want to fight is a response of that fear, and in most cases, that desire to fight only aggravates the anxiety. This is probably the most difficult point to manage, but if you succeed, it will make a lot of difference.
  3. Don't let fear control you. (This is an extension of the last point) More than likely, when the moment comes to perform you will still experience a freak out moment. Let it alone. It will work itself out more quickly that way. There's a juxtaposition in the effect that results from this: Even though the anxiety is still present, by allowing yourself to experience the vulnerability and discomfort, there also comes experiencing a sense of strength and peace.
  4. Be kind and patient to yourself. The ultimate goal of any type of performance is to do the best you can; however, everyone, including yourself, is prone to imperfect. More than likely, a mistake is going to be made. Don't obsess over the minute mistakes or the large ones. Let things happen as they will, but don't beat yourself up about it if something turns out differently than planned. Don't blame yourself or call yourself names that pull you down. Be happy for the successful moments.
That's what I can come up with the moment. My performance on Easter was that musical number that I played the flute. It ended up being a solo instrumental, so I had to do it alone. I got quite nervous waiting for it to happen (I think even my hands were starting to sweat), but I was comfortable enough with the song, and I was trying really hard to follow my 2 and 3 points. It turned out really well, and I was happy with the results. 

As difficult as many of these experiences can be, they have proven to be of great value to me. I don't regret having to go through them. These lessons are quite valuable in other parts of life other than having to do something in front of a group of people. 

There's no shame in being human.

You're welcome to watch this video I made of my playing the flute to some photos I took on a hike a few years ago: