For some people, anxiety is something that comes and goes occasionally when they are under major stress, but it's nothing big. They may feel upset and get frustrated, but it goes away soon enough, and then everything is back to normal. But for many others, anxiety has a worse impact and occurs more frequently, even in the simplest tasks. It can result just from sending someone a message and them not replying for a long time, causing you to worry that you said something wrong and being unable to move past it. It can result from doing a project and being so worried about the details that it seems like it'll never be as good as you want it, and spiraling downward from there. For a person with anxiety, the piling up of stress and worry can be really damaging emotionally and mentally, and in short, anxiety is draining. I can say personally that getting past anxiety and worry is a difficult task, and does not happen immediately. There is no finite cure for it, either. But it is possible to be successful despite anxiety, and some of the best ways to get ahead of it is just simply by being brave. Which sounds easier in theory than in practice, I know — but if you have a few minutes to spare, I can show you that you can prove your anxiety and worry wrong and succeed with a little courage.

For someone who enjoys theater, anxiety is really not the ideal thing to put up with. Being an actor requires a lot of courage and putting yourself on the line- especially when it comes to live theater. There are no do-overs on live stage, not to mention auditions are just about the same. You either do well on the first try, or you don't — the only chance you have of doing better from there is if you make to callbacks, and again, that's still a 50-50 scenario with how things can go. For me, I get the most anxiety going into auditions compared to getting on stage, which can make me feel as if it affects my audition performance. A couple of months ago, my mother informed me that she had signed me up for some prestigious summer programs in the city, for which I would have to audition on a certain date. At the time, it was an exciting prospect and there was nothing to worry about — I had been acting, dancing and singing for years now, how could it be hard?

But as the deadline drew nearer with each passing day, anxiety found its way back to me and tapped me on the shoulder. When I finally made it into the city the day before the auditions, it had made semi-permanent residence inside of me. I had a monologue prepared, I knew what I would sing — and yet I continuously questioned myself and my choices for the rest of the night. Do I know the monologue well enough? What if my expressions aren't realistic enough? Is this the right song to sing? Maybe I should sing something else... but what if I don't sound as good singing this song? I was full of doubt and as a result, I harassed my mother about every detail, worrying about everything that, in my mind, could possibly go wrong. I practiced my monologue so many times that night, and the next morning, that it felt as if those words were the only thing in my head anymore. In the back of my mind, a voice proposed not even going at all to the auditions and forgetting all the work I had put in for the sake of my own sanity. But I ignored the voice and reminded myself how important this was to me. The next morning, there was no turning back as I stepped into my Uber to get to the audition place.

Anxiety decided to give me a little break on the ride over to 66 Randolph Street, and I could actually appreciate the beautiful day and the familiar sights I passed with the windows down. But the moment I was registered and waiting to be called for my audition slot, there it was again, toying with my insides and making it hard to concentrate on anything around me. After about an hour of opening app after app on my phone and texting people just to distract myself, I made it into my first audition — and it went terribly. At least, at the time and in my mind, it felt that way. The first girl to go was a spot-on Kristin Chenoweth, and that was when I began to first experience the nagging worry. As expected, by the time it was my turn, my body was shaking without my consent, and my heart was pumping at an unusual rate. But I had to muster up my courage and break a leg.

I began my monologue, requesting to hold my phone since I had just found out you were allowed to read on script if you had to, and I wanted to make sure I didn't stumble. Unfortunately, within the first two sentences, I lost control over my performance. I forgot the next few words and began to grow uncomfortably warm, mumbling a bashful "sorry" and glancing down at my phone in hopes it would save me from totally bombing the performance. I found my place again and continued, able to remember the rest of the monologue from memorization. But it didn't feel the same as I ran through the lines — I felt as if the realism of my performance had greatly decreased along with my confidence, and I was just hoping the very patient director could not tell. But I could not yet experience sweet relief, because I still had to sing for him.

In my dubiousness over song choice, I ended up picking something last minute that I had never technically actually sung before outside of my shower. I felt rather stupid afterwards for the decision, because I had even gone to my voice instructor who recommended a song I had already performed and everything. But I went a different route, and thus I began to sing some "Hamilton" for the director. My voice started off with a bit of a crack, which nearly made me cringe, but I restrained myself. The rest went all right, perhaps another small crack or two there that I noticed right away. The director never stopped smiling as we kept our eyes on each other and when I was done, he asked me some questions. Despite feeling like I would probably faint within a few seconds and wanting to get out as soon as possible due to the embarrassment, I answered as best as I could and then I was done.

As I left that audition, anxiety began bombarding my mind with awful thoughts, the same recurring ones I can't seem to avoid: You screwed up the monologue and he definitely noticed. You cracked all those times in your song, you're never getting into this program now. You embarrassed yourself. All I wanted to do was go home and cry. I felt beaten up and as if I had overestimated my abilities. How could I have been so stupid to think my skills would stand out among all these other well-trained and talented teens? I was forced to put on a brave face and prepare for the dance audition to come.

After a long wait, I got into the dance audition. As many others and I watched through the glass doors the dance auditions before ours, I knew immediately that this was not the program for me. Although I had always loved dance and did ballet for a long time, I no longer had the kind of passion these teens did. It was not going to be my career and dedication — I just did it as a part of musicals. So, as expected, that audition was not so hot either. But at least I had already figured that out due to my lack of passion for a dance career, so it wasn't as hard failing in that department. The only thing I had on my mind was the musical theater audition, because that was the one I sincerely cared about the most.

After my audition, I felt not only drained physically, but mentally as well. When asked how the auditions went, I did not want to spill out my deep feelings, but I also could not find the most positive thing to say. Whenever I don't know what to say about something without actually giving away my feelings, I just say that it was fine. When texting closer friends, I went into more detail about how awful I had done. They kept reassuring me I was my own worst critic and they were sure I did great. I didn't believe it. As the anxiety slowly began to seep away, relief that it was all over was taking its place, I had one more thing to worry about for the next week — the email with my results. When the date of the expected email arrived, I was refreshing my email for hours. I began to believe I would never receive mine because I had done so badly that I would not be getting in. But then as I refreshed for the millionth time, the email appeared at the top of my inbox. I clicked it hastily, not sure if I would like what I was going to see but desperately needing to know my fate. I read the dance audition answer first — I had not been accepted. That wasn't a big deal. I had known right off the bat I wouldn't have been able to keep up with that program. But then there was the musical theater answer... I lost my breath when I saw one word: Placed.

I had been accepted into the program after all! I couldn't believe my eyes, but there it was in bright purple on the page. I was overjoyed and first texted my mother, who had been putting her faith in me from the beginning. As I began to share the news with friends, it dawned upon me that they had been right. I am my own worst critic, and I am such a perfectionist that I notice my mistakes much more than others do. I have allowed failure to affect my confidence and open the door for anxiety to come inside. But everyone fails, and that's a hard truth I keep having to learn, especially when it comes to acting. I have also seen that being brave has given me many chances and has actually led to good outcomes — just like being placed in this program.

So, while I cannot offer you the one amazing cure to anxiety and tell you how to completely eradicate it, I can show you how I'm slowly learning to not let it stop me from achieving my goals, taking risks or just living day to day. Anxiety can stress me out, it can make me cry, it can make me retreat into my own internal shell — but it cannot stop me from proving it wrong by achieving my goals and doing what I love. And you shouldn't let it do that to you either.