It's in that fearful moment when you take center stage that you realize everything may or may not crumble right before your very eyes. One mishap could ultimately decide the outcome of your performance and delivery. It is not so that we are afraid of failing in front of crowds - more so that we are afraid of failing in front of ourselves. What would all those sleepless nights and hours upon hours of practice amount to if we suddenly forgot one line? Or that we spent so much time perfecting that make-or-break it note that we crack? And then in the days that follow, we beat ourselves up for not doing the best that we possibly could have done. We blame ourselves when in reality we did everything by the books. We are humans after all. No one could come close to being perfect in an imperfect society full of flaws and pitfalls. Try and try all you want, but being perfect is not in our vocabulary.
With knees made of jelly, I quietly made my way to center stage. The bright white lights were aimed directly at my face, blinding me and keeping me from the audience who I knew was watching me with judgmental eyes. The air in the room was cold and open, like a dark uneasy cave desperately waiting to be explored. The room felt like the said cave, and I grew uneasy as this large knot started in my stomach and sweat began streaming down my forehead.
Why would they put me through so much torture? Shine the bright lights onto the people - illuminate the cave please! I was desperate for some comfort - anything to take my mind off of the paranoia coursing through my head and making its way into my stomach.
It felt as if I were standing there for 30 minutes when in reality it had only been for a few seconds. I was asked my name and what I would be performing. I replied, my words slurred by my nerves. The microphone suddenly felt slippery in my hand - probably because of how sweaty my hands were.
The lights slowly dimmed and the music started to play, flowing in and out of both of my ears. I quickly processed the crowd, and I faintly saw some familiar faces mixed in with foreign ones.
And then came that moment when I had to open my mouth to utter a note - but everything froze. In that moment, I had forgotten about all the nerves and anxiety. The rush I felt was exhilarating and gave me the momentum I needed to start and finish my performance. At the end, I heard yells, cheers and screams of approval and pure joy.
I lightly walked off the stage with a new found confidence that would follow me for the rest of my life. What mattered in that moment was how I felt about my performance and only after that how everyone else felt about it.
