musings on performance and mental health in classical music: how “conquering” my anxiety killed my love for music
i can count myself among those musicians that say, with complete confidence, that stage fright isn’t a problem that they have to deal with in performance situations.
performance anxiety is very obviously a ubiquitous problem in the world of the performance arts, as any practicing musician will happily attest to. and although i can say that i no longer have issues performing on stage–that my hands no longer shake, that i no longer disassociate, that i can exert complete control over my mind and body–i have to qualify that statement with a rejoinder: how i overcame my performance anxiety ruined my relationship with the violin and nearly destroyed my love for music.
i began my musical career as a violinist. i practiced four hours each and every day, loved all of the literature written for the violin, listened to violin music all day long. it was a beautiful relationship, one that i cherished very much. my relationship with the violin was a rather private one: in the confines of a practice room, my home, or in front of my teacher, i was happy to play. however, an introvert to my core, i found performing in public to be a horribly difficult challenge to overcome.
i have to preface this next part by stating that i believe musicians should be competent performers. there is something to be gained from learning how to perform; it has, indeed, been my experience that learning how to perform in public cultivates self-confidence, strengthens the relationship between performer and instrument, and may even foster an unexpected joy for performance.
only, however, if it is done right can such anxieties be healthily overcome.
my violin teacher’s solution to this issue was to force me into the limelight; if, indeed, there was an opportunity for me to perform in front of a crowd, i was pushed into it. i was given attitude, and on one occasion even screamed at, whenever i wanted to back out of these engagements.
this isn’t to say that she was a bad teacher or a horrible person. to the contrary, she was a great pedagogue from whom i learned a great many things. she was, at heart, a very kind and generous human being and, as someone who cared for me, wanted to see me succeed. she knew i had the potential to be great and she ruthlessly exposed me to my fears so that i could gain the courage to conquer them. and while i certainly understand this approach, i cannot in good conscious say that i respect it.
this is an approach that works. it worked for me, certainly. but at what cost? if nothing else, i know myself to be a stubborn, strong-willed piece of shit, whatever my introvertedness or social anxiety may say. this method broke me. it broke my love for the violin and it very nearly made me quit music. after my last (forced) public engagement playing a concerto in public, one that i point-blank refused to play but was forced to anyway, i stopped playing for three years.
i suffer from horrible anxiety attacks whenever i try and practice the violin. i can’t even think about performing in public anymore. and while i’ve slowly resumed lessons and have even joined a small orchestra this summer, the joy that i had playing this instrument has long since withered away. i think that, following the conclusion of rehearsals in august, i won’t be playing again anytime soon.
it wasn’t until i started therapy that i realized how toxic this do-or-die approach was for me. the relationship between a therapist and their patient is a very forgiving relationship. problems are discussed, conclusions are formed, and, through time, patience, and trial-and-error, these issues are overcome.
anxiety is your mind telling you that something is wrong. it is a part of you giving voice to its concerns. you do not conquer your anxiety, you acknowledge it. you respect it. you dialogue with it. you don’t go through life screaming at people and ignoring their concerns: why on earth would you treat yourself in such a brusque and cold-hearted manner?
i abused that part of myself that alerted me to its discomforts and anxieties rather than dialoguing with it. you reap what you sow and with the way that my anxieties were handled, the subsequent results are really not at all that surprising.
let this be a lesson to music teachers everywhere: anxiety is a very real problem with very real consequences when mishandled (however good your intentions may be or have been). dialogue with your students, set small and manageable performance goals, love, cherish, and respect their anxieties. your students are putting their mental health in your hands when they voice these concerns and issues: do not let them down.
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