Walking, Talking Anxiety

The Audition to End All Auditions

Here's something you should know about me: I'm a crazy big music fan. As in, I listen to all genres, although mostly instrumental, and I play an instrument, AND I'm in choir, AND I want to major music in college.

Unfortunately, I have social anxiety.

And when you're a musician, you kind of need to perform.

So, yeah, I'm a walking disaster.

Of course, I was never adverse to singing in front of people before middle school, but I was still extremely shy. The performance anxiety (not that other kind; look it up) really only started in 6th grade.

Thus, our story begins.

I never really auditioned to be a performer in elementary musicals because, hey, super shy kid here, but I knew I wanted to. Especially because there was that one girl who always got the lead role, the one who always had friends to encourage her, and was essentially the music teacher's pet. To answer the forseen question, yes.

I, Eleanor, was extremely jealous of her.

But I didn't really know if I had any sort of talent, because no one had ever told me. But I really wanted to try, even if it was just to show this girl up. (Yes, any one who knew me elementary school can attest; I was very bratty)

So, I joined choir in 6th grade. (I had mostly mellowed out by this point)
Which was fun, exciting, and cool and all, up to the part where you have to audition for which choir you were going to be in next year.

Here's the problem:

I had built up a little of that 'false confidence' over the course of the year due to the teacher calling on me to sightread a line of music on the board. I had been very successful and received warm applause afterwards, which was exciting for me. But that didn't have any real weight to it; it was spontaneous. This made me realize two things:

If I fuck something up, it's usually because it was important.

And that a fall from shaky confidence is a long, hard death.

Which I realized the minute I stepped into that audition room.

I distinctly remember my body going like "um, no, bro," and my first thought was: uh oh.

And then my body experienced the worst feeling of it's life; physical anxiety symptoms.

Let's talk real quick about some of the embarrassing symptoms of anxiety for a minute.

Firstly, all confidence takes one look at all the progress it made up the mountain of anxiety, and leaps off to it's desperate death.

Secondly, my body starts shaking in a way that makes me look like I'm possessed.

Thirdly, the intestinal issues.
Some people feel the need to puke.
And people like me need the toilet for other reasons.

And finally, I become the most akward person of all time.

Usually, when you're auditioning, you want to present yourself as confident and well put together, acting as if you're a quite extraordinary and well rounded individual.

I did the opposite.

My usually great sightreading ability joined my confidence in a deadly plummet. I looked probably miserable. And I could hardly sing without my voice shaking almost comedically.

But the sightreading was the worst.

I kept stopping, forgetting basic stuff, and almost crying, a neverending cycle of misery. All while my future director looked at me with the face of complete and utter disappointment. Nevermind, that was the worst.

The conversation after my painful excuse for an audition was even more mortifying.

I remember there was a really akward period of silence before she told me these words:

"You do know that if I put you in the top choir, another girl who deserved it will lose their spot?"

Oh, man. There was nothing more humiliating and crushing.

I mean, I've always been a push over in general, but it's usually because I put others before me in most situations, whether because I felt they deserved something more than me, or because I wanted to be nice. It's just how I was raised; my parents instilled the fear of Mom in me that should I ever be rude or disrespectful towards someone else, she shall rain thunder and Hell upon me.

For her to say that was basically her saying: "You have brought dishonor to yourself and are now a horrible person."

Needless to say, I didn't take it very well. I cried for hours and was just a generally miserable human for two weeks.

And the worst thing was, that, when I asked everyone else how their audition went, they all seemed pretty content with what happened. All of them seemed to have a good experience.

Except me.

Which made me feel even more weird than I felt before, and even more frustrated.

What did everyone else have that made them braver and better than me?

Am I normal?

Of course, now I know that it is normal, and I'm getting much better athough, well, yeah. Still have anxiety.

Anxiety will always be a part of my life; I've just got to learn how to balance it.

Baby steps, guys.

Well, if there was any bright spot to this story; I made the top choir.

But this is just the beginning.