It’s always around this time of year that my family whips out the home video collection. For my sister and me, that means that every possible cringey moment from our childhood is screened like an episode of a reality tv show to our family.
Even though we’ve watched these videos countless times over, I always manage to surprise my family by how much I have changed since I was a little girl.
As a kid, I would probably not be described as nice. I mean, I did have a biting phase and would stomp on my Dad and sister’s board games when they played without me. Sorry!
But each year, one specific home video stands out to me. Not because of how much I’ve changed, but actually the opposite. It’s a video of my first and last ballet recital of my life.
My hair is pulled back in a bumpy ponytail and my tights are bunched up at the bottom, suggesting that I most likely threw somewhat of a tantrum about having to go to this recital. So the fact that I was on stage was enough of a victory for my parents.
As the song queues up, my Dad zooms in on my face as it scrunches up. It’s the kind of smile that strains your face the next day, the smile that suggests you’d rather be anywhere else.
But as the song begins, the scrunched up smile falls into a resting face of pure panic and tears begin to flow as I freeze up for the entirety of the performance.
Part of me hates to admit that this video still hits close to home for me. While I’ve long since given up ballet and
practically any other hobby that involves performance, I still encounter stage fright in my early 20s.
I’m lucky that my stage fright is no longer caught on camera for eternal remembrance, but alas, that image of 5-year-old me, hands over mouth, tears streaming down my face as the rest of the girls dance around me is still very much a part of me that I’m working to change.
There seems to be an unspoken pressure that comes with entering your 20s. Your 20s are the building blocks to the rest of your life, right? This could be your last chance to decide what you do or don’t do. They are crucial years inI defining who you will be.
As children, many of us tried everything once. Every activity and hobby started off as an experiment, no pressure. But as we grew older, we found our true interests that may have eventually grown into talents. At least for me, it feels as though we have reached a point where there's a pressure for those interests to come to fruition.
When you think of what you truly love to do, it’s probably the thing that you didn’t even realize was exceptional that you simply gravitated to as a child. A kid that is going to excel in dance is dancing long before their parents encourage them to take class, for example. For me, this has always been writing.
Weirdly enough, while writing is what fills me with lightness and purpose, it is also on the list of things that I am most afraid of doing.
Just like five-year-old me on stage at my first ballet recital, I still fear putting myself out there. I get that same burning sensation in my face, the contradictory feeling of being so on fire for something that you have no choice but to do it while also fearing it so greatly because “what if I freeze up right when I said I was ready to go on stage?”
Many people my age have managed to pursue and share what they love to do for years, and I admire that. It’s much easier said than done. We live in a world that pushes us to find a sense of purpose, all while simultaneously finding success and security, which don’t always go hand-in-hand. All of the pressure makes it easy to fear getting up on a stage, no matter who or who isn't watching.
When I dig up why I truly fear pursuing what I love, it has little to do with me. Instead, it has much to do with those people watching: Anticipating my failure or waiting for me to give up.
Possibly, stage fright arises because somewhere along the way, we are told that what we love could become something great. With that, I convince myself that there’s more that could go wrong than could go right, all the while missing out on the joy that you can encounter from simply starting with no concern for what people will have to say.
When we dig even further beneath this surface of doubt, an unwavering push to do what we love has and always will be there. It lives within each of us, whether we like it or not.
We’re in luck, though, because saying yes to that push is much more freeing than the strain of resisting it.
Stage fright is a funny thing when you think about it. Because when I look back at that home video of my ballet recital, I see all the other parents' video cameras high up in the air as they film their own child, with little to no concern with what I’m doing. And the more years that go by, I realize that that's how most things in life are.
It might sound harsh, but the most freeing feeling can be the realization that nobody is watching you as much as you think. Whether you freeze and run off stage or receive a standing ovation, the people around you will still be much more concerned with their own pursuits to notice much of a difference. So you might as well get out there and do it.
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