Hey Divas,
Just a friendly warning: if you get secondhand cringe, you might want to wait until next month’s entry!
Now that that’s out of the way, to the brave souls who are still with us, I’d like to extend a formal invitation into the pit of the perfectionist’s nightmare.
It’s been terrorizing me for years: I’m backstage, frantically flipping through an unfamiliar libretto, attempting to memorize my entire role while a stage manager counts down, “places in five!” I always wake up just before curtain, drenched in sweat and so relieved it wasn’t real.
Well, let’s just say, a couple weeks ago it wasn’t a dream…and it happened in front of a live audience.
But, before we unpack all of that, let’s rewind.
I was performing with the Oyster Bay Music Festival on Long Island. On the first night, I walked on stage, opened my mouth to introduce my aria and accidentally said “Toby and I” would be performing. I meant to say Maxim, my brilliant pianist, not my boyfriend….
I originally planned on giving a thoughtful short intro on the piece, but the moment I misspoke, I completely panicked. What should’ve been a quirky, forgettable slip totally threw me off. I launched straight into the aria and rushed through it like I was going straight from the stage to the Long Island Railroad.
After the performance, I was furious with myself. But I wasn’t upset about the mishap, I was mad because I spent the entire performance bullying myself for it.
The next day, I had two more concerts. I gave myself one intention: to have fun. And guess what? I actually did! I let myself enjoy the music, connect with the audience, and be fully present.
And then came the final concert…
I was singing Juliette’s “Je veux vivre, ”an aria I’ve performed for years.
Less than 15 seconds in, my brain completely blanked.
Not just the words, but the melody disappeared from my memory all together. I had nothing. So I did what you’re absolutely never under any circumstances supposed to do as a professional performer: I stopped and laughed.
“Let’s try that again, Juliette just got a little too excited!”
The audience laughed with me. I took a breath, restarted…and it happened again. At the very same spot. I stopped again, frozen in the kind of public horror that feels like watching a car crash into a ditch, only you’re the car and there is a fully packed church of people watching you try to navigate out of it.
I was mentally negotiating the pros and cons of sprinting off stage and disappearing into the woods forever when I locked eyes with the head of the voice faculty. She gently suggested I stand next to Maxim so I could glance at the music if I needed it.
So, I walked next to the keys, put a hand on Maxim’s shoulder and we started again. For the third time.
But, this time, I let go.
I was finally detached from the fallacy of perfection.
And want to know the craziest part? I had so much fun.
When I finished, the audience leapt to their feet. I could not believe I was getting a standing ovation for what most critics would consider to be an epic failure of a performance.
But it wasn’t a failure at all. It was the most successful performance of my life to date.
Afterwards, people came rushing up to me saying things like:
“That was the most human thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I thought it was a bit—you were so relatable and hilarious!”
“The way you handled that was so inspiring… I’ll never forget it.”
That night, I publicly dueled my biggest fear and came out victorious.
I was never afraid of making a mistake. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I did.
But now I know with certainty, I can handle whatever may come my way. I can breathe, ask for help, or start over– even if I have to do so with the score in my hand.
The nightmare might come back, but if it does, maybe this time I’ll wake up laughing.
With love,
Teddy
