Like many young people, I suffer from anxiety. Anxiety is a part of my daily life. It’s a real illness, just as real as cancer or diabetes, and it’s not “all in my head” (well technically, it is, but in the way that asthma is “all in your lungs”).
Oftentimes, when I share with others my daily struggles with anxiety, people get confused, because I’m also a performer. How can I be an actor/singer/etc. and still have anxiety? It seems like a paradox, as many people associate those who have anxiety with shyness, small personalities, and a fear of crowds. Things are not quite as black and white as they seem, because anxiety can come in many forms and affect those who suffer from it in a variety of ways. It isn’t a “one size fits all” issue.
There are many different kinds of anxiety that fall under the category of “generalized anxiety disorder.” Anxiety can have all sorts of symptoms, triggers, and tics, so one person’s experience with anxiety may/may not be similar to another’s. I personally suffer from two main types of anxiety, social anxiety and performance anxiety. This means that I get very nervous in social situations, and I tend to feel an overwhelming, constant urge to perform my very best. While the latter may seem like a good, healthy feeling when it comes to becoming a better artist, too much of this feeling often it results in panic attacks, being overly self critical, and ceaselessly berating oneself for even the tiniest mistakes in my performance. While it’s good to push yourself and be aware of what it takes to grow as a performer, these feelings can become extremely mentally taxing and can even hold performers back from reaching their full potential.
The reason many people are confused when I tell them I have anxiety is because many people have a specific idea of a “performer” in mind: a person who is loud, colorful, and unafraid to be their innermost self. The reality is that performers are very complicated and complex people; not all of us are the extroverts the world often views us as. Performing can present itself as both a safe haven and a source of our fear.
I can lose myself in a song or monologue, see the lights above me, the audience before me, and remember why it is I do what I do. Or I can hear a tiny crack in my voice or mix up my lines, and brood over the mistake for weeks. I think I’ll never be good enough and that I’ll never make it if I keep messing up. While I may appear confident and controlling of many social situations, as most theatre people are very sociable, it takes a lot of build up and courage to get to that point. Inside, I’m still trembling, and fear that at any moment I could slip and mess up. Everyday is a battle, but in the end my love for what I do outweighs all of the anxiety and doubt.
As I mentioned earlier, anxiety isn’t a one size fits all experience. I cannot speak for every performer who has anxiety, this is just my story. However, I believe that it is a very important story to tell, in order to give a bit of insight to those who may not understand. Society places an enormous stigma on mental health, and there is an epidemic of mis-education and misunderstanding. Taking the time to listen to the stories of those who struggle with mental illness will not only begin to end the stigma, but will also mean the world to those whose stories you choose to listen to. I appreciate you taking the time to read my story, and I hope you keep listening to others, because that’s how we create kindness and understanding in this world.