Breathe. Take a breath. Calm down. Look at the windows. Don’t look at the faces. You’ve prepared. You’ve practiced. You know this. You can do it.
I truly practiced not getting nervous, but it doesn’t seem to be working. The heat in my chest radiating up from the pit of my stomach that feels like a bottomless pit. I move the microphone closer and lift the music staff up to my level. I look out on the sea of faces and instantly regret it. I take a deep breath and nod at the pianist to my right.
The music begins.
Clear my throat. Breathe. Okay, I got this. 1, 2, 3, 4….Breathe. It’s about to begin. Breath again. Wait, that’s not good enough. Too late. Entrance fumbled. Crap. Crap. I’m messing it up. I’m in the wrong voice. My throat crack. The notes quiver out of my mouth. I lift my hand to turn the page and it shakes violently. I’m sure everyone can see it. I can hear them thinking, “Oh poor thing.” Okay, here comes a rest. Breath this time.
Breath for real. “Carry your candle…” Click. That’s it. That’s better. Clear. Loud. Sing. Sing your heart out. Sing. Breathe. Sing. Now I can hear them thinking, “Nice voice. Good song.”
“And go light your woooooooorrld.” I’m done. Turn off the mic. Don’t look at anyone. I’m horrified and exhilarated.
I want to laugh. I want to cry. I can feel my face glowing brightly. Acclaims from the audience soothed my ego regarding my fumble. Regardless, I know I did my best and that is something to be grateful for, success defined by completion.
