I remember the very moment stage fright slipped into my being. In just a matter of seconds, I transformed from fearless to fearful; all because of one tiny shift just before my first church solo in 9th grade.
I thought I was ready to make my debut as a soloist. I had completed my vocal warm ups, dressed in my finest Sunday clothes, and spent over an hour perfecting my fine, straight hair into the perfect 1980s Jersey bangs and curly puff.
At the back of the small sanctuary, my voice teacher and I successfully practiced my favorite hymn, In the Garden, which I had been preparing for months. I indeed felt ready.
But minutes before the service began, I saw my voice teacher fluttering around, moving wires, and setting up sound equipment. Unexpectedly, he set up a microphone in front of my face, and I stared at it as if it were a snake about to attack.
This change was not planned. I didn’t practice with this foreign object, and, in all honesty, I was very happy with my soft, quiet voice. If people couldn’t hear me, they wouldn’t know if I made a mistake.
With church now beginning, and my solo serving as the prelude, I didn’t have time to object. My teacher sat at the piano, smiled, and began to play the introduction.
The intimidating snake of a microphone stared at me as I opened my mouth to sing the opening phrase. Fear blanketed me. My legs shook and my butt cheeks trembled. This unexpected nervous energy stole my breath, and I barely squeaked out the first few words. “I come to the garden al…” My throat slammed shut in the middle of “alone,” and a primordial grunt echoed throughout the church. I was mortified.
My teacher, however, continued on as if this vocal explosion had been intended to be part of the song.
In that timeless moment, I realized that the earth did not shatter and I still appeared to be alive. Rather than crawl and hide under the grand piano, I kept going, found my voice, and finished the hymn beautifully. Afterwards, church members kindly avoided mentioning the cavewoman grunt but instead encouraged me to keep at it.
Stage fright, however, was now an unwelcome hitchhiker that stayed with me for my most of my career. But the curse eventually turned into a blessing, forcing me, in a sense, into the world of sound healing as I searched for ways to manage it.
My path led me to ancient techniques and methods that shed new light on stage fright, fear, and stress. Slowly, I began to transform my fear into clarity and strength. I’ve learned to recognize fear for what it is. A bully.
My studies have proven to me that sound indeed calms the proverbial raging beast. The techniques I work with sooth my inner bully, and, as a result, I’m living a less stressed and fearful life.
What better time than now to share a few of these self-regulation practices with you?
If you cannot join the October 15th live zoom event, I invite you to consider the three-month deep dive that begins February 2025. Sound Meditation Teacher Training. This program is open to all who wish to deepen their self-regulation practices, become comfortable with their voice, and expand their breath.
My lifetime of walking hand-in-hand with, or sometimes being pulled and dragged by, fear has led me to develop specific techniques that are accessible to everyone. I can’t wait to share them with you!!!
With love and healing,
Denise
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