Performance Anxiety Part 2: Supporting candidates to shine in recruitment and audition

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about my own and my clients’ experiences of performing for the purposes of being assessed – job interviews, auditions and the like – and what can make the difference between a successful, positive experience and a negative one that might lead to shame, fear and a knock to self-esteem. I’ve experienced and heard about interview and audition situations that range from the joyful to the downright traumatic. This has made me a passionate advocate for an approach that pays attention to psychological safety as a means of getting the best from the candidate. Below, I offer some tips and reflection points to support leaders involved in recruitment, audition and assessment of candidates to create a safe and welcoming enough environment to help the hopefuls to shine.

It feels important to note that a positive experience (whether or not the person gets the job, passes the exam or bags their dream role) is created both by the individual being assessed and those tasked with judging their performance. And there may be an element of assessing ability to perform under pressure involved in many cases, but I’d argue that being judged by people who have the power to change their life represents a sufficiently pressurised situation, no matter what the context. We don’t need to engineer additional stress on top of what may already be a nerve-wracking experience.

So, what do I mean by ‘psychological safety’? This is about creating conditions that allow people to feel welcome, valued and able to express themselves authentically. When people feel safe and grounded, they can access the skills, qualities and brain functions that allow them to give their very best performance. It’s true that we can’t create or guarantee a sense of safety in someone else, regardless of what we put in place – some of that work rests with the individual. But we all have a different baseline and set of experiences that influence how we feel and function, both in general and in specific situations. We all consciously and unconsciously bring baggage wherever we go. In our bags, we may be carrying messages and judgements that influenced us as children, previous experiences that influence our thoughts, communication and the way we use our bodies. Some people may have worked hard at unpacking their luggage and discarding any reactions and coping mechanisms that are outdated and unhelpful, only to find that they have sneaked back into their bags when a stressful situation presents itself. If a candidate has had negative experiences of being seen, heard and judged or assessed in the past, they may find that they need to do a lot of work to calm and ground themselves enough to be able to give their best performance (tips on reducing performance anxiety in part 1 of this series here). So, what can you put in place as a recruiter/assessor to help candidates show you what they can really do?

-Be warm and welcoming:

 An authentic attempt to connect and show someone that they are welcome and valued can make a real difference to their experience. We are wired to seek out signs of whether we belong in an environment because it has historically been crucial to our survival. Most of us are well attuned to signs that someone is impatient, bored or disengaged. This may be something to consider at the point where interviews, auditions etc. are being scheduled, as an over-stretched, exhausted or rushed recruiter may well have a negative impact. Additionally, gentle eye contact can often support an overwhelmed person to ground and re-regulate (I acknowledge that in some cases, direct eye contact can increase stress - e.g. for some Autistic candidates. It’s best to be responsive to individual reactions and follow their lead).

-Manage expectations:

As far as possible, let candidates know in advance what to expect and offering any information you can give about the format, timings, space and anything else that might help them to prepare. This stage also offers an opportunity to find out if any reasonable adjustments are required if you haven’t already. Predictability can help to set up a sense of safety, and can be offered while still requiring the person to think on their feet, if necessary. And be honest about what the person can expect following their experience – if you know that it’s likely to take a long time to make a decision, or if you truly lack the capacity to offer feedback to unsuccessful candidates, let them know in advance.

-Interrogate your unconscious bias:

I can think of a number of situations where an assessor’s bias has been made very apparent by specific questions, expressions of surprise or rejections based on incorrect assumptions or judgements. I would argue that we all need to develop a practice of interrogating our assumptions about a person based on, for example, their perceived age, gender expression, neurotype/disability, ethnicity, accent or perceived socioeconomic background. This is especially true in recruitment. Having been on both sides of the recruitment process, I’ve found that sometimes we can’t quite pin down the reason when someone is ‘good on paper’ but not quite right. Maybe the chemistry is wrong, maybe it’s not the best ‘culture fit’, maybe we had a specific vision in our mind’s eye that’s difficult to let go. That might be entirely valid - often, our instincts are worth listening to. But being in a position of power means there’s an added responsibility to check out and unpack any assumptions that may be underneath the feeling. I believe that expanding our vision around how a person in a specific role could look, sound and behave has benefits on a level wider than the person, role and organisation. Being able to honestly evaluate what we might have assumed about a person, and on what basis, can help us make more informed, fair decisions. And, speaking as a person who can tick a few ‘protected characteristic’ boxes on the equalities monitoring form, I can tell you that when these biases are front and centre in a recruitment process, we can often tell.

-Provide a safe container:

You may or may not have much control over the physical environment in which you carry out interviews, auditions etc. Ideally, the space would be comfortable, an appropriate size (big enough to maintain a sense of personal space but not unnecessarily large) and set out in a way that suggests welcome, warmth and calm. As a minimum, I’d suggest a psychologically safe-enough space needs to be quiet, free from interruptions and tidy. If there are a number of factors that are not in your control, consider what you can do to mitigate. Can you section off part of a large space to offer a sense of containment? Can you do anything to influence the level of background noise coming from adjacent spaces? If not, it can be even more important to cultivate a sense of safety through your interactions with the candidate and, if something in the space is unavoidably presenting an obvious distraction or barrier, to acknowledge this and perhaps discuss potential ways of minimising the impact. It’s impossible to anticipate the different needs of every person who enters your space, but thinking ahead about how people with accessibility needs or sensory sensitivities might experience it is a useful place to start.

-Be patient:

Experienced assessors are often skilled in putting nervous candidates at ease by being patient, recognising when they have stumbled that they may need a moment to regroup and try again, and even at times offering words of encouragement or reminders to take a breath. Even the most talented and capable people can come unstuck under pressure in a way that may not reflect their ability to perform in the role. Helping someone who is experiencing a ‘freeze’ response to re-regulate doesn’t demonstrate preferential treatment – it’s an acknowledgement that ‘singing for their supper’ (whether literally or figuratively) can be overwhelming sometimes. Demonstrating that you haven’t written someone off when their Autonomic Nervous System has gone into hyper- or hypo-arousal can often help them to regain control and deliver a fantastic performance.

-Let go of survivor’s bias:

In some professions and performing arts contexts, an element of acceptance of unnecessary stress or even ritual humiliation can persist because ‘we all had to go through it’ and it’s ‘character building’. I can think of some particularly egregious examples of this from high stress environments with pronounced hierarchies and heavy emphasis on tradition. I hope that this is a mindset that’s on its way out as we develop a common awareness of the need to support our people’s wellbeing (both because we value them as people and because healthy people perform better). It may be the case that the threshold for what constitutes a humiliating, shaming or unnecessarily exposing situation varies from person to person. But it’s worth considering what purpose a particular aspect of an assessment serves and whether it’s the best way of achieving that aim. Are you planning consciously, or falling into the trap of doing things in a specific way because that’s ‘just how things have always been done’? Do candidates really need to be auditioned and given feedback in front of the entire pool of hopefuls? Is your recruitment process putting extra pressure on those with caring responsibilities, health needs or long hours in their current role by requiring them to carry out unpaid work that will take several hours? Does anyone on your interview panel regard a candidate’s questions about reasonable adjustments, working culture or hours/boundaries as a sign that they are likely to be ‘difficult’ to work with?

Perhaps these ideas seem like basic examples of good practice. Or maybe as you read this, you notice a sense of irritation about the increasing demands made by early career professionals. Maybe there’s a sense of regret that some of these courtesies weren’t extended to you when you were starting out in your career. It might be useful to take a moment to reflect on what has been provoked or inspired in you as you read this. And I’d love to hear your thoughts on the subject – you can contact me here.

Performance Anxiety Part 1: How to shine in performance and presentation

As a coach and facilitator, I support people who feel uncomfortable with being seen and heard. People who might panic or freeze when the stakes are high and they’re required to give a performance in front of others, whether on stage, in the board room or on a conference call. In this post, I will offer some suggestions, points to reflect on and tools that could help you to feel calm enough to really shine in a performance, interview, audition or presentation. This is not a comprehensive list, because everyone is different and an approach tailored to each individual is far more effective than a generic one. Rather, I’m offering some tried and tested methods to get you started.

Part of what led me to this work was my own experience of performance anxiety as a young person. Some of my earliest memories are of myself as a young child, assembling any adults who happened to be around to watch me put on a show. It might have involved singing, dancing, acting or doing gymnastics all over the furniture, and it might have been a solo show, an ensemble piece with friends or a full-on cabaret in several acts. The adults in my life patiently indulged my high energy and regular requests to be seen and heard, and provided a safe environment in which to develop my performance chops. When I ventured further out into the world and had to audition for parts and places in the music world, I discovered what a less nurturing environment could do to my ability to give my best performance. From a fairly young age, I noticed the difference between performances where I felt comfortable and those where the fear of judgement or failure took over and had me shaking, losing control of my breath and sounding timid. Auditions, exams and competitions had wildly inconsistent outcomes for me as a result, and there wasn’t much in the way of support with managing ‘nerves’. This was just something young performers were supposed to be able to figure out by ourselves if we wanted to succeed. Things worked out well for me in the end though – I discovered performance psychology and a range of resources to help people to stay calm and grounded enough to deliver a great performance, whether it’s a work presentation or pitch, an audition, a show or a public speaking engagement. I’ve seen and experienced the difference that getting performance anxiety under control can make – most of us know what we’re capable of when we believe nobody is watching or listening, compared to what can happen when we’re in the spotlight. That speech was word perfect in the mirror this morning, but now that you see everyone watching, your mind’s gone blank. You’d give Whitney Houston a run for her money when you sing in the shower, but you believe you could never reproduce that performance for an audience. And that’s why I want everyone to be equipped with the tools they need to show people what they’re really capable of. So, here are some tips and points to reflect on as you prepare for a presentation or performance situation that’s causing some anxiety.

-Ground yourself:

Being grounded means connecting with your body to help you re-regulate your Autonomic Nervous System and prevent you dissociating (feeling disconnected from your body, spaced out, losing contact with ‘here and now’ reality) or freezing. Top tips to support this include pushing your feet into the floor, diaphragmatic breathing and taking a moment to get into a stance that feels open, upright, solid and moveable. Connecting with your environment also helps with grounding – you might want to do something like taking a moment to find three things in the space that are a specific colour, for example.

-An interview/audition is a two-way street:

You may have done your research and concluded that this organisation and role are perfect for you, and this may or may not turn out to be the case. Situations where things look ‘great on paper’ but don’t feel quite right when you meet and check each other out apply equally to those being assessed and those doing the assessing. If, beyond the discomfort of feeling nervous about the process itself, something feels a little ‘off’, it’s worth paying attention to your gut feeling, reflecting on what might be behind it, and – if possible/appropriate – asking questions to see if the answers reassure you. In some industries, most notably in highly competitive ones such as performing arts, people can be made to feel powerless until they reach a level of success that allows them to make choices and demands. For competitive roles, a sense that ‘if you don’t like the way things are done, there are thousands of other hopefuls for us to choose from’ is an old adage that needs to be consigned to history. There is increasing pressure on leaders to improve working conditions and recruitment practices or face difficulties in filling roles and pushback from the workforce further down the line. No matter what the industry or environment, abusive, humiliating or discriminatory behaviour are unacceptable. We all have more power than we are led to believe, and I’d argue that it’s usually worth holding out for a place where you feel welcome, valued and listened to.

-Develop a system that works for you:

Most people who often or occasionally struggle with performance anxiety develop an awareness of how that shows up for them and what’s most likely to happen if they get overwhelmed. A common example is forgetting words or lyrics, or ‘drawing a blank’ when asked a question you’d usually be able to answer. There may be physical discomfort in the form of shaking, nausea, feeling faint or muscle tension, and the realisation that some of these are visible to the audience can send you into a spiral of worry, shame and self-criticism about how they are being perceived. You might find that your mouth gets so dry, you can barely speak. So, the first step here is to spot any patterns – you might want to document your various performance experiences in a journal, where you note how you felt, what the environment was like, how you were responded to and your overall sense of how it went. If you were so overwhelmed that there are parts of a performance or presentation you don’t remember, this is useful information to note too. Once you have built up a sense of any patterns, triggers and insights, you can start to match your tools to your needs. It might be helpful to do this with the support of a coach, but otherwise, you can develop systems that help you to jog your memory, stay hydrated, keep your blood sugar stable etc. according to your needs. I sometimes like to write words or lyrics out ahead of a singing performance to remind myself of them, and because the physical act of writing them seems to help me connect with them. What would work for you? Treat it like a scientific experiment.

-Reasonable adjustments:

Where possible and necessary, don’t be afraid to ask for what you need. That might involve letting an interviewer know you need a moment to settle yourself before you respond to a question, developing a backstage ‘ritual’ with a friend to help you get calm or letting an organisation know about any accessibility needs you may have. Bear in mind that any reasonable adjustments related to disability, neurodivergence or diagnosed mental health issues legally have to be met in a workplace context. If you anticipate feeling overwhelmed by a presentation or interview in the workplace, consider scheduling before and after the event – is there anything you can do or request in order to give you some calm time and space to prepare and to decompress?

-Harness the adrenaline:

It’s become a cliché to say ‘use the nervous energy to your advantage’, and that’s not helpful when the fight/flight/freeze response and stress hormones seem to have taken over your entire being… But if you can learn to calm your system, you’ll be able to think clearly, connect more effectively with your audience and perhaps experience the nervous energy as excitement, rather than terror. Often, different but related emotions have similar physical sensations attached to them. How we interpret those sensations makes a difference to how our emotional state develops. There’s a symbiotic relationship between thoughts, physical sensations and emotion – we can influence our thinking and emotions by tuning into and adjusting our body’s responses (e.g. by slowing our breathing), and we can influence our emotional and physical response using our thoughts (e.g. by realising that some of what we’re calling ‘anxiety’ might be ‘excitement’). Learning to tune into what our bodies are telling us and developing ways of soothing the body and mind gives us a whole menu of options to help us deal with a stressful, scary or exposing situation like trying out or interviewing for our dream role. Crucially, practicing techniques that help you to re-regulate your nervous system when you don’t need them means that you’ll respond more quickly and effectively in the moment when you’re heading towards overwhelm. So, incorporating grounding and calming techniques into your regular routine means that they’re much more likely to work if and when you find yourself in front of an audience or panel with a sudden feeling of panic.

Good luck, and I’d love to hear how you get on with these tips. You can let me know, or set up an exploratory call by contacting me here.

If you can talk, you can sing!

I’m in the process of planning a new community singing group, with a focus on wellbeing. I’m well versed in the many health benefits of singing and when I work with groups, I aim to create an accessible, supportive environment in which people can explore and experience them. Some of the responses I tend to hear when I describe my work include “oh, I can’t sing!”, or “I love singing but I’m tone deaf”, or “I wish I could sing but I can’t!” I’m always reminded of Dweck’s growth mindset vs. fixed mindset model when I hear this – believing that we lack potential to grow in a specific area is a great example of a fixed mindset. We accept that playing an instrument like the guitar, piano or violin will require hundreds of hours of practice to master, even though some people seem to have more of a natural affinity for it than others. But because our voices are an inherent part of us, a part of our anatomy, we may be tempted to think that only some, special people have the ability to use them to express ourselves tunefully. I disagree with this idea – sure, there are born singers, including a few people with vocal apparatus and lung capacity so extraordinary that they seem destined for a successful career in music (although the ratio of talented singers to career opportunities is quite daunting). Equally, there exists a small number of people who are truly ‘tone deaf’ – up to 4% of people have Congenital Amusia, which is tone deafness that cannot be explained by factors such as hearing loss, brain injury or other cognitive/environmental factors. In spite of that fairly low prevalence, I’m sure I hear far more than 4% of people I encounter claiming to be completely, permanently unable to ‘carry a tune’. This always makes me a little sad because, although not everyone is quite as invested in singing as I am, I hate the idea of self-limiting beliefs preventing people from enjoying this particular form of self-expression.

Because our voices convey our emotions, our thoughts and identity, using them (whether for singing or speaking) can make us feel vulnerable at times. We’re putting ourselves out into the world, asking to be heard and dealing with whatever response is received. Singing is a super-charged form of vocal expression, because it combines the evocative nature of music with whatever emotions and stories are conveyed by lyrics, and because each of us has a unique sound that lets the world know something about who we are. It requires physical/muscular support and is more of a workout than it’s often given credit for. It becomes obvious to the listener if, when we sing, we feel so unsafe and uncertain that we lose control of our breath and our ability to find the right pitch or remember the words. So, I understand (from both professional and personal experience) some of the reasons that people might be a little shy about singing, particularly if they know that someone might be listening. And the less often we do something, the less naturally it seems to come – we don’t develop muscle memory or confidence, and we solidify our belief that ‘this is just something I can’t do’ – it can be a vicious cycle. There’s also the huge and debilitating issue of shame. So many of us have had experiences, in childhood and beyond, that shamed us into making ourselves smaller, quieter and not expressing who we really are. Many of us have had humiliating and even traumatising experiences of being heard by others and judged harshly, of being paralysed by stage-fright or of being laughed at when we dared to raise our voices and express ourselves. This really contributes to a sense of feeling that it’s not safe to be heard or that we ‘can’t sing. But that needn’t be the end of the story… discovering safer, more supportive places and people to sing with, exploring and challenging the critical voices we use to talk to ourselves (voices that likely once belonged to someone with an influence in our lives), and taking small steps to increase our vocal confidence can all help to turn things around.

Regardless of whether you claim you can’t sing but are happy to joyfully belt out a tune in the shower, or you refuse to let a melody pass your lips at all, there are various ways to get some of the wellbeing benefits of using your voice. For example, humming or chanting can be part of a mindfulness or meditation practice. Taking full, diaphragmatic breaths to prepare for vocalising, and extending the exhale (humming until you run out of breath) kicks in a physical process that brings your Parasympathetic Nervous System into play, promoting rest, calm and recovery. It also helps to bring your attention to the body and provides a focus point for those who find it hard to sit quietly with their thoughts. It’s still early days in terms of the science of this, but there are some studies looking at whether meditation with vocalising has increased therapeutic potential (for example, due to vagus nerve stimulation). But whatever the science says, I know from experience that singing and humming can be fantastic ways to get grounded, move past ‘stuck’ emotions, connect with the body and self-soothe.

I’m curious about how my thoughts will land with those who say they can’t sing. If that’s you, I’d invite you to be curious about it too. What emotions, thoughts or memories come up for you as you read this? What might that mean? Are you willing to challenge any of your assumptions about this? Does it matter to you? If the answer to some of these questions is a resounding ‘no’, that’s ok. Not everyone feels the need to use their voices in this way. Though to me, it seems that singing is an inherently human and beautiful thing to do. So go ahead and sing like nobody’s listening – the good news is that you don’t need to be ‘good’ at it in order to reap the benefits to your wellbeing.

Looking for support with being heard, using your voice to improve your wellbeing or learning to sing? Contact me!

Performers are not our Property

I don’t think I have anything new to offer on the subject of how artists’ lives can be ruined by an insatiable public thirst for their trauma, but right now, I’m fizzing with thoughts and feelings about it. Lately, op eds and news stories about the ‘Free Britney’ movement have been all over the media. There are so many angles that could be taken on the story, from a bit of salacious gossip, to voyeuristic coverage of a widespread conspiracy theory to an opportunity to examine and hold to account both the performance industries and media coverage of the not-so private lives of those in the public eye.  

For the uninitiated who may have intentionally or otherwise missed this media ‘Circus’ (reference intended!), a new documentary covers Britney Spears’ father’s Conservatorship, which allows him control over her life and finances, as well as outlining the misogynistic and invasive harassment from all corners of the media at the height of her fame. This will likely come as no surprise to any of us – whether we actively follow pop culture, read tabloids or watch talk shows, I’m in no doubt that we’ve all seen how performers, and especially women and other ‘minorities’, are publicly treated. This is old news. Watching the documentary fired me up and reminded me of how devastated I was when I watched the posthumous Amy Winehouse documentary. And all of this reminds me of why I’ve made some of the decisions that I have.  

Performers are often a little emotionally vulnerable. There’s a fragility about putting ourselves out there to the world, asking for attention, for people to relate to us, for judgement. Research* somewhat unsurprisingly shows that performers tend to have a strong drive to please others, and that eating disorders and alcohol/substance use issues are common. People who feel things unusually deeply and intensely often make the best singers, songwriters, actors and dancers because they become adept at channelling their joy, fear and pain into their artform and communicating it to an audience. Mix that with behemoth industries such as huge record labels and the tabloid press, and we have a perfect storm. Performers help us all to process our own feelings when we can’t, and to shake loose our own self-expression by sharing theirs. That in itself strikes me as something pure and just so essentially human. But the grubbier parts of our humanity that are never satisfied complicate things. These industries arguably exist to ‘give the people what they want’, and we apparently want more gossip, more albums released, just more of everything.  

I’m not sure when I first consciously became aware of this. I’ve been performing all my life – since I was a tiny only-child in a sea of adults happy to indulge my nonsense, I would march into rooms, announcing that it was time for me to put on a show. Like a lot of kids, at a very young age I had vague ambitions of fame – I wanted to be like Cher and I made sure my entire street knew it when I sang into my hairbrush for them all to hear for the millionth time. My family and I fought tooth and nail for financial support to get me into a specialist music school. It took at least three years for the money to appear, only for me to walk out in a silent ‘diva strop’ around eighteen months later because I’d disagreed with the Director’s suggestions about my career plans. I knew, aged sixteen, that finishing formal musical education at that time wasn’t for me. I knew that even on the relatively small platforms of concert halls and opera houses that it was brutal out there. I still have huge respect for the friends who pursued this path and found it was the right one for them. But I knew it would be tough because I’d suffered horribly from performance anxiety (it didn’t have a name back then - I was just not good enough at controlling my nerves). And because I’d done competitions where equal weighting was given to my performance and how my outfit ‘flattered my (sixteen-year-old) figure’. And because I’d seen barely adolescent musician friends reduced to tears after being publicly humiliated by Directors with an ‘artistic temperament’. The often too-personal criticism and competition for work can encourage some pretty difficult relationships among peers – and for young people just finding their feet in the world, extra judgement and jostling for position doesn't seem healthy. I hope things have improved since I was that age - it seems some things have, while other issues stubbornly persist. I mention all of this because I changed my career plans from aspiring classically trained singer towards offering young people the support I’d needed – eventually, I learned how to support developing performers to feel safe, to self-advocate and to express themselves wholeheartedly. When I hear about what’s happened to artists like Amy Winehouse or Britney Spears, part of me hopes that I’ll be able to support a young person in a way that equips them with the tools to fight back, should they happen to land in the spotlight (or in fact, their local drama group with its charismatic, yet vaguely inappropriate Director). 

 It’s often struck me that the world of performance can lag behind other parts of society in terms of acceptable ways to interact with people and uphold their rights. Part of this seems to be about the idea that artistic success, fame or regular work as a performer are so desirable and scarce that every hopeful is ‘expendable’. The ‘Me Too’ movement shone a huge light on the abuse that takes place when this concept is allowed to take root in an already misogynistic world. The tired, abusive old adage is essentially, ‘if you won’t put up with this, there are a million younger, prettier girls who will and you’ll never work again’. (And of course, it’s not only women who are affected by this, but misogyny is a huge part of the picture). Greater numbers of people are starting to say no, to go public about this, to fight back. I’m encouraged to see young women artists taking back control of the music they release after horrific experiences with producers and record labels. Of course, the burden should not be on the survivor/victim of abuse to make these changes – we must all hold those in power to account. As ‘the public’, we are the ones being sold the idea that performers belong to us. It’s at least in part down to us to push back on this notion by voting with our feet or our wallets.

Some will say that this is the life performers have chosen and that they should be grateful for their success and graceful towards their detractors. Whether or not you’re particularly sympathetic towards pop singers, actors and the like, this stuff matters. It matters because it’s a barometer of how human lives are measured and valued. There's a disturbing paradox in how disposable and forgettable well-known performers can be seen to be by those with career making and breaking power, and yet how the paparazzi and the court of public opinion may decree that they also have no right to be forgotten or afforded any privacy. If we can objectify the people we demand to be entertained by, who help us to feel our own feelings, isn’t it possible that society is capable of doing this to all of us? And I have to mention the hit that’s been taken by the arts as a result of the pandemic plus (in the U.K at least) brutal funding cuts. Rest assured, it’s not going to be the big shot producers, company directors or media bosses bearing the brunt. So this is my plea for us all to support our local – and global – artists, remember that performers are people and speak up against abuse.  

*E.g. Borland, 2011, ‘The Singer’s Psyche’.

The Psychology of Voice

Or ‘The Courage to be Heard and Understood’.

When I talk about ‘the psychology of voice’, people may hope or expect to learn tactics for being heard, understood and ‘taken seriously’, based on studies that show which pitch, accent, body language or tone audiences best respond to. I believe there may be value in taking time to consider how we may be coming across when we communicate, but I do not offer tips and tools that promise to endow you with an air of authority, confidence or persuasiveness. My passion lies in wholehearted, authentic communication. I’m a Performance Psychology practitioner – I specialise in voice and communication, trauma recovery, relationship and a body psychology approach to wellbeing. 

When I think of ‘voice’, I think about being heard, speaking out against things we find unacceptable, advocating for ourselves or others, performing or presenting in front of an audience, and vocal technique (be it for speaking or singing). Things that can get in the way of any and all of these include the stories we tell ourselves about who we are, the messages we received from our parents or caregivers, how we are feeling physically and how safe we feel in the environment in which we are attempting to be heard. It’s impossible to truly separate the mental, emotional and physical aspects of voice. This is one of the reasons I’m so fascinated by it. The voice is the interface between the internal and external worlds*. A thought is an internal process, but when we decide to speak that thought, express that emotion, it exists outside of our body. Can you think of a time when you wanted to cry but made the decision to try fighting back the tears? Felt that ‘lump in the throat’ feeling as you attempted to swallow your feelings because it didn’t feel safe or socially acceptable to let them out? This is an example of how our emotions, vocal apparatus and communication interact with each other.  

How safe we feel and our self-talk has an impact on what comes out of our mouth and how. Before I understood the ‘how’ and ‘why’ of this, I experienced it first-hand. As a teenager, I was training in classical singing. Though I was a born performer with a flair for the dramatic, I suffered terribly with performance anxiety (a term I was not familiar with at the time – back then, we just called it ‘nerves’ and were encouraged to ‘toughen up’). The more formal the environment, the more nervous I became. My breathing became erratic and my voice shook fearfully. On a number of occasions, I auditioned for roles that allowed me to show a more playful, exuberant side. I remember Directors expressing shock at the sudden transformation – meanwhile, I thought ‘this is how I really sound!’  

Years later, disaster struck. A perfect vocal storm, involving a bad bout of bronchitis, a load of unprocessed trauma and a lack of rest, led to me completely losing my voice. A combination of surgery, vocal rehabilitation, breath work and Performance Psychology support helped me to find it again. A key aspect of this was the building of solid therapeutic relationships. I had to trust the people coaching me through this recovery with some of the things most precious to me: my emotions, stories and voice. This is something I hold in mind as a coach – I remember how vulnerable I felt and how important it was to be treated with care. 

As I learned about what was stopping me from expressing myself fully, the first lesson was about ‘body armour’. We tense and brace our bodies when we feel threatened, and often, we don’t let that tension go. Fear had me tied in knots, so tense that I struggled to express myself. To use our voices clearly, we need the support of our diaphragm and core muscles, and a steady flow of breath. The tension we carry in our neck, jaw, throat, chest and shoulders when we are stressed, anxious, scared or under pressure can seriously inhibit this.  

I went on to explore the ‘unsaid’. What were the things I did not feel safe enough to say? What messages had I received as I grew up about the acceptability of particular emotions? What did I tell myself when I felt those emotions and how did my body respond? Making sense of what was going on under the surface yielded surprising results, and the improvements in my communication were tangible.  

I re-built my performing experience from scratch – starting with audiences of people with whom I had built relationships of trust and moving on from there. Vocally, I am still more sensitive than I once was to physical, emotional or environmental changes, but this is often as much of a gift as it is a curse. My voice lets me know what I need, and perfectly communicates how I am feeling.  

What I experienced, and what I went on to learn in years of training is that being heard and understood requires the courage to be vulnerable. This courage can come partly from trust – both in yourself and the people around you. But sometimes, there won’t be a ‘safe person’ in the room with you at a time when you need to use your voice to speak up. There are ways to boost feelings of internal safety – though the specifics are different for everyone, I suggest starting with breathing ‘in your belly’ (i.e. using your diaphragm), grounding your feet and consciously releasing tension from your shoulders, neck and jaw. Communicating wholeheartedly, honestly and boldly is a skill you can keep developing: ‘speak your truth, even if your voice shakes’.  

For support with any of the issues mentioned here, please contact me. If you have concerns about your vocal health, talk to your GP first.  

*See ‘The Singer’s Psyche’ - research by Dr. Denise Borland for more on the psychology of voice.

Finding my voice

This is a cliché like the ones you hear on those ubiquitous TV talent shows, but I can’t remember a time when singing wasn’t part of my life. Although for me, that’s not strictly true – while I’ve been singing since I was quite wee, there were a few years of  vocal wilderness around a decade ago. It started with a bad bout of bronchitis and progressed to surgery and vocal rehab. A combination of bad luck, stuck emotions and a lack of rest resulted in temporary disaster but would ultimately have a happy ending.

Singing and speaking are the main things I’ve always instinctively turned to in order to process my emotions and express who I am (not to mention how I made my money – supporting people mainly through talking). Being unable to really use these resources was both devastating and shame inducing. Who was I if not a singer and professional voice user, and what was I supposed to do with all these inconvenient feelings that had nowhere to go?

This is where I may get a little evangelical about the tools that helped me get back on track and that I now have a passion for sharing with others. The NHS took care of the physical aspect of repairing my vocal apparatus but I needed to address other factors and this is where I first encountered a psychological and body work approach to vocal coaching. At Noble House, I learned about vocal rehab, an understanding of trauma and conscious breath work. I knew it was the right place for me, and still my carefully crafted defence system fought this recovery process every step of the way… until it all started to fall into place. I made leaps and bounds as a singer and a human. I belted out impossibly cheesy songs in my bedroom until my flatmate and I had fits of emotional giggles about this new development. I talked about things I’d never talked about before and felt the improvements come thick and fast.

The obvious next step in this adventure was to start training as a practitioner. It’s been a long process and an eye opening one too. While this has been going on, I’ve continued with my job supporting young people through various challenges in their lives and later, managing a small team of wonderful people who do likewise. I’ve been, and continue to be involved in various bands and music projects. I believe that none of this would have happened if I hadn’t been encouraged by a friend to sort out my vocal problems. For most of us, our voices are one of the most important aspects of our identity and ability to participate in communities, to stand up to injustice and to express our feelings. I may be a little biased under the circumstances but I’d say that taking care of this aspect of self and being aware of how closely it’s connected to our emotional world and our health is of vital importance.

‘Tell your truth, find your voice, sing your song’ (Anon).