A couple years ago I was asked by the choral director of our community theater production to audition for a solo. Asked! I was so flattered and excited. A few days after I sang the part for her, I received an email saying… I got it!
It was a bright spot in an otherwise tearful Saturday morning. I had just broken up with my boyfriend over what I thought was an irreconcilable difference (I was wrong. We’re engaged now). That email about the solo was the best thing that happened that day.
We had six performances over two weekends, and in about two thirds of them I did a really. bad. job. I don’t know WHAT happened, but I could not hit the right notes.
I was absolutely mortified.
Shame
To this day, nothing makes me cringe more than the memory of that solo. Thinking about it makes me want to scrunch up my eyes and slap my hands over my ears, as though that will stop the memory. The thoughts go like this:
Everyone heard those off-notes. I can’t believe I let the director and the whole production down. Why didn’t I try harder? I should have practiced more. Who did I think I was? I should have hired a voice coach. I didn’t deserve that solo. They will never trust me again.
I get similar – though not as acute – feelings of embarrassment when I think about my writingo on this blog. The thoughts go:
I can’t believe I wrote that. What was I THINKING!? How could I think that was any good? In fact, what makes me believe that ANY of my ideas are worthwhile? I’m just me. Literally no one will find this valuable, ever.
What’s going on here?
Brené Brown writes that shame comes from the belief not that you did something bad, but that you are bad – intrinsically flawed somehow. Is that where these mind-hurting thoughts that make my face hot come from?
Progress
In the solo example I did a poor job. And yes, part of me believes that is a sign of some inner flaw.
But with the writing??? Why is progress embarrassing? I’m not embarrassed by what I wrote in fifth grade. Why am I humiliated by what I wrote a few years ago?
I was confident in what I wrote back then. I had something to say and I had the right to say it. Now, I’m shaking my head at my past self. Who did I think I was? That confidence seems presumptuous to the extreme.
But, I haven’t actually read anything I wrote back then in a long time. But in my mind it’s probably garbage. What??
I’m puzzled by this, this self-flagellation and dismissiveness. It’s probably a symptom of perfectionism, or maybe some internalized oppressive belief that I don’t deserve to speak. Or maybe it’s because I regularly see writing that doesn’t impress me. If I judge those people, why wouldn’t I judge myself?
How much are these feelings holding me back from auditioning for another solo or writing?
This post is part of my 100 Blog Posts in 100 Days series. View the rest here.
