Acting Through Social Anxiety

I don’t like being perceived.

This is a fact about me that’s often very clear from a first encounter. I come across as shy, reserved, quiet. I rarely speak in class, and don’t like being randomly called upon (which has happened recently, and yes, I did panic and blurt out something that was probably incoherent). In group settings, I make it my personal mission to find the quietest spot in the room. Yes, I’m that person who spends the entire time playing with the dog in another room during a party. In short, unsolicited social encounters make me very uncomfortable.

So imagine the surprise when people discover that, ironically, I love acting.

It’s a love that I discovered in ninth grade, when I decided to take a drama class on a whim. My goal was simple: push myself out of my comfort zone. Do something I had never really thought about doing. On my first day, I was nearly shaking with anxiety. I was starting a new school, with new people and new teachers. I had done some drama before, at my public school, but that was different. I’d been surrounded by the same people for years, many of whom I’d known since kindergarten. I was comfortable there. I knew what to expect from them. High school? I had no idea what to expect. So I went into my first-ever drama class, on my first day of high school, fully expecting to hate it.

I ended up loving it. So much so that for a few months, I entertained the thought of going away to school for acting. While I ended up specializing in literature instead, I decided to minor in drama, and have spent the last three years engaging with the joy theatre brings me – it’s not the kind of joy I would want to build a career out of, but rather the joy I get from performing one of my many hobbies. 

I shouldn’t have been surprised that I ended up loving theatre so much. Growing up, I loved performing. I would do piano recitals when I was little. I used to figure skate, and the individual competitions and my solos were my favourite parts. I vastly enjoyed public speaking, and I was good at it. I would always volunteer in class to go first for presentations. All throughout public school I was, to put it simply, constantly perceived. In high school drama, I was always perceived. And here, at university, I am always perceived in the theatre.

But here’s the thing: that perception is consensual.

Any time I’ve stood in front of a group of people and commanded their attention, I knew what to expect. Every moment of that performance was rehearsed. I’d practiced in front of test audiences, mainly of friends and families, and knew which reactions to expect at which moments. I knew exactly what to do, and could tune everything else out. 

Here’s another thing to know: I hate improvising. There’s too many things that can go wrong. My brain doesn’t work fast enough to come up with things on the fly. Suddenly, I’m very aware of the people looking at me. Am I pausing too long to think? Am I standing weird? Is that how my character would react to this scenario? I make it a point to avoid shows that require me to do improv on a regular basis. When it happens at a moment when it’s not supposed to? For me, that’s unsolicited perception and triggers my fight-or-flight reaction. Typically, I freeze.

I’m the type of person who needs to plan everything in advance. I hold entire conversations with my mirror when I’m planning to talk to somebody, rehearsing their possible reaction and planning out my responses to each scenario. It’s why I’m a good presenter, since I have time to write a script and formulate a plan, but I avoid speaking in class unless I have a decent answer pre-planned to a question my professor might ask. It’s why, in theatre, I usually rehearse my lines and reactions in private, away from the rehearsal space, where I can figure out my character without the directors and other actors watching me. This becomes more challenging when the characters I’m playing are very different from myself. Which, coincidentally, is the case with the most recent character I’ve played.

A few days ago, the DAN Studio Series closed its installment of Daydream, in which I acted in the short play Pirates and Prejudice, a reimagining of Jane Austen’s tale on the high seas. I played Lydia Bennet who, if you’ve seen any adaptations of Pride and Prejudice, is loud, energetic, and impulsive – the polar opposite of myself. This role required more isolated rehearsals in my bedroom than others I’ve played. How would she act like a pirate? How does she react when Lieutenant Collins comes to collect her family’s ship? What does her scream sound like when Captain Wickham accidentally slashes her with his sword? 

In the end, I allowed aspects of myself to bleed through into her character. My nervous-toe bounces became bounces of barely-restrained energy. My panic at not knowing what to do with my hands at any given moment proved useful during Lydia’s brief panic at learning her home might be taken away. Essentially, she was me, just under different circumstances. What would I be like if I was impulsive, always bursting with energy, and a very loud presence?

While I love acting, I’m glad I chose to study literature and pursue a career in that field. I don’t think I could act for a living. It’s too mentally draining, constantly rewiring your mind, and definitely not something I would commit to long-term. The week-long show runs of these small student theatre groups are enough for me. As much as I’m okay with being consensually perceived, eventually, there hits a point where I decide I’ve had enough, and need to stumble away to recharge.

• anxiety
• hobbies
• theatre