You Can’t Just Wish Your Stage Fright Away
But you don’t have to let it paralyze you.
If you’ve ever felt your palms go sweaty, your heart rate jump up, and your knees get shaky at the idea of appearing before a group of people, you know what it is to have stage fright.
But what can a person do about it? How can you get past those miserable sensations so you can get on with the job at hand?
First, understand it for what it is.
Stage fright is, quite simply, a type of social anxiety disorder. It’s not even a particularly rare type. Clammy skin, weak knees, shaking hands, cold lips (and, for me, at least, cold fingers and nose — yes, nose), elevated heart rate, and rapid breathing are all some common physical symptoms.
It’s no joke and I have known people to become physically ill and even grow faint as the symptoms escalate.
And they can escalate. Unchecked, the shaking, rapid pulse, and shallow breathing can drop you with very little warning.
You’ve entered a state of panic or near-panic and unless you take steps to mitigate the anxiety you feel, it’s pretty well guaranteed to go poorly for you.
It’s not as if it’s a one-time experience, either.
In my mind, each fresh round of stage fright just adds insult to injury. I mean, seriously. I pushed my way through the mess the last time and lived to tell the tale. Shouldn’t that be enough?
Sadly, it is not. I continue to experience a degree of anxiety each time I stand before any audience or group, whether it is to sing, give a speech, or teach a class. Every instance is marked by a gradual build up of nervous distress which comes to a peak at the moment of trial.
Honestly, the post-adrenaline crashes are exhausting.
Very likely, you are asking, “Then, why do you keep doing it, ya goof? Leave it for someone who doesn’t fly to pieces before an audience.”
It’s sage advice but my brain doesn’t choose to take it. Instead, my brain rails at the indignity of my reaction and drives me to act, despite the apprehension that swamps me.
I don’t like being made to feel weak.
You can get used to it, to a degree.
Before my son was born, I was a teacher. I taught high school for a few years and, later, trained adult volunteers at my parish. While I never left my nerves behind entirely, I did grow more or less accustomed to a background hum of unease. I learned to push it as far as I could into the back of my mind and go ahead with what I needed to do.
It was tiring and I was generally as done as a Sunday roast by the time I reached the end of a day. But I did get through it and did learn to function well, even with the unceasing nervous buzz.
Also, I have been a choral singer for most of my life and, while group singing holds no particular fear for me, solo pieces definitely do. For the most part, this is volunteer work and I have the right to decline if I choose. But I very rarely do.
It’s my son’s fault. No, really. It is.
When my son was about ready to begin preschool, he showed definite and not surprising signs of being nervous before people, particularly groups, he didn’t know well. At three or four years of age, I didn’t feel he was quite up to a discussion on social anxiety and steps to overcome it. That left me, as I saw it, one obvious option. I had to model behavior I hoped to see in him.
Besides, I couldn’t very well ask him to work through his fears if I was unwilling to do the same. There was also that dislike of feeling weak that I mentioned before.
So, I became a regular soloist.
There are things you can do to help yourself push through it.
Whether you are going to speak, give a dramatic performance, sing, or juggle cantaloupes, there are steps you can take to gain some control over your fears.
First, you can make sure you are well prepared. Going off the cuff is rarely your best option and, when dealing with stage fright, I’d argue that it is never your best option. Practice is your first and strongest weapon against performance anxiety.
However, it must be your best practice. As my son’s percussion teacher used to tell him, “Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.”
Give your rehearsal time your best effort so that the performance pattern you set in your mind is the best it can be.
Next, take care of yourself, physically.
This, in my opinion, is an overlooked point. You should make a point of getting rest prior to your big moment. Be sure to eat sensibly at whatever meal precedes it and hydrate yourself.
No one is at their mental finest when they are a physical mess.
Then, give yourself a pep talk. Assure yourself that you’ve done all you can to prepare and that’s something to give you some satisfaction. You’ve given yourself your best chance of success and you’re ready.
I think that pep talk should have a bit of forgiveness worked in, as well. Stage fright can make a person feel diminished, fragile, and it isn’t a nice sensation. Be gentle with yourself about it. You don’t choose to feel this way and you’ve done what you can to rid yourself of it. That’s good and deserves some self-love. You made it this far and that’s already something to celebrate.
And if all that still doesn’t work?
Well, now you have my permission to give yourself some tough love. It’s time to talk sense.
The advice I give myself comes from a story my voice teacher told me a few years ago.
She was about to take the stage to sing for a large audience of, if I recall correctly, about 30,000 people. Oh, yeah. And the pope was out on the stage, as well.
Even with her years of training and her, frankly, amazing voice, she was terrified and asking herself what in heaven’s name she thought she was doing. Her mentor came across her backstage at that moment and, seeing her distress, asked her what was going through her mind. She told him and the reply he gave her shocked her right out of it.
“So, who are you here to sing for? Yourself? Are you doing this just for yourself? What makes you so important that you can wallow in self at this moment? Think what you are really here to do.”
After a moment of stunned hurt, she grasped his meaning and walked out on stage to sing, sharing the full measure of her gift and years of hard work with everyone there.
Did she never get nervous again? Oh heck, no. But, now, she has a means of giving herself some perspective.
I remind myself of this story every time I stand up to sing.
Find what will give you perspective and, even if it sounds a little harsh, remind yourself why you are doing what you are doing.
“You’re giving this presentation to get a chance at a promotion and everything that would mean for you.”
“You have instructions and information these people want and need.”
“You and your flying cantaloupes are going to bring smiles to faces that may really need them right now.”
And after it’s all over?
No matter what the outcome, congratulate yourself. You did it. You’re still here. It didn’t beat you.
It may or may not have gone the way you practiced and you may or may not like the result, but you did do it. You didn’t turn tail and run screaming into the night. You stuck it out and gave it your best shot. You will probably go through all the same nervous turmoil the next time you get up before a crowd, but now, at least, you know you can get through it.
Well done, you.