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.

Embodied, Courageous Communication

In explaining what I mean by ‘embodied, courageous communication’, I want to do my best to avoid throwing a load of jargon around. So, let me instead start by telling you a little about the experiences that have led me to be so passionate about supporting others (and, of course, myself) to express and communicate with courage and authenticity and to connect with the wisdom of our bodies.

As a person with ADHD, I’ve tended towards an abundance of energy – or rather, in the past, I was full of energy right up to the point where I’d burn out. I was aware of needing to move my body a lot, but not tuned into what else it may have been trying to tell me. That’s largely what led to me running myself into the ground at times when I was younger. My experience of communication was a little complicated too – I always had quick thoughts with many tangents, a tendency to use more words than I needed to and a love of performing. Some difficult circumstances in my early life meant that I struggled to communicate my emotions directly. But I found solace, emotional expression and a way of calming and connecting with my super energetic body through singing. In many ways, it was my biggest resource and most effective form of communication before I even realised it. Alongside a more general burnout, not knowing when to stop also led to an injury to my voice that took a long time to heal. That was the catalyst for a huge journey of learning how to understand myself, express myself authentically, listen to and care for my body, and connect more meaningfully with others. This ongoing process is what I mean by ‘embodied, courageous communication’.

I wasn’t really aware of all the defences I’d built up against anything that felt unsafe or vaguely threatening until I hit crisis point and had to address them head on. Learning about concepts like ‘body armour’ (holding tension in the body as a form of protection, often long after the threat has passed) and slowly trying out ways to regulate my nervous system while I built up a relationship of trust with a practitioner was mind blowing. By developing awareness of the physical sensations I experienced when I felt uncomfortably vulnerable, I could begin to join the dots between sensation, emotion and action, then make a decision about whether to do something to shift my state of being in the moment. For example, I learned that when I feel vulnerable, exposed or in danger of conflict, the muscles at the base of my skull tend to shudder or vibrate. Unlike some physical sensations or body signals, this one doesn’t feel particularly subtle. It’s showed up during difficult conversations and job interviews. It seemed to me to be my body’s way of offering up the ‘freeze’ option from a menu of ‘fight, flight, freeze, flop or fawn’. Essentially saying ‘we’re exposed, let’s retreat and hide!’ – a bit like when a toddler hides their face and believes that, because they can’t see you, you can’t see them either. But it’s rare that this is a helpful strategy in the context of a difficult conversation with a colleague or loved one, or during a job interview or big presentation. So the vibrating sensation is something of a warning that lets me know it’s time to take action that will re-regulate my autonomic nervous system – to do something that will bring a more calm, rational, present version of me back into the driving seat. This might involve pausing to take a couple of diaphragmatic breaths, grounding my feet and consciously releasing the tension from my neck.

This is, I hope, a useful example of something that offers a clear link between body sensations and communication. Of course, all of our communication involves our body in one way or another. But in the context of a presentation or a difficult conversation, it feels especially important to stay in contact with the parts of ourselves that can reason, connect with others and help us get our points across clearly. When the brain responds to a perceived threat and floods the body with the hormones and neurotransmitters that could save an endangered life, we tend to lose touch with our most sophisticated cognitive and social functions. The extent of these reactions varies hugely according to previous experiences of trauma, shame, the messages we received as we grew up, our neurotype, personality or other variables, such as whether we’ve had enough sleep and food or are going through a stressful time. Regardless, getting the best from our communication and performance involves a degree of courage, willingness to genuinely connect with others and ability to regulate our autonomic nervous system and emotions. That’s not to say that we should aspire to be in a state of permanent, zen-like calm, or to downplay our emotions and responses in a mandatory display of stoicism – quite the opposite! Suppressing and repressing our feelings will usually only take us so far before they catch up with us and either find an alternative route out into the world or stay buried and do damage to our health. But slowing down enough to really tune into how we’re feeling (something that didn’t come naturally to me and requires a lot of practice) equips us with choices about how we might be able to regulate and respond. Sometimes, we may be overwhelmed in spite of our best efforts and need time out to soothe our mind and body back into a state of calm. Developing awareness lets us know when that’s necessary and potentially helps us to prevent unnecessary conflict.

All of this offers up the possibility of facing into sensitive and difficult conversations. Though part of me would quite like to float through the world, avoiding conflict and anything that may bring with it the possibility of rejection, I’m a firm believer in the need to develop spaces and skills that support the sort of conversations that spark social change and deeper connections. I often work in the realm of Big Topics and discussions that risk exposing fears, complex power dynamics and boundaries, biases and potential for loss of relationship. I find that it’s common for people to fall into understandable patterns of avoiding the conversation if they can, becoming defensive or feeling shame. And I’ve also found that paying close attention to the creation of a reflective, embodied, compassionate space with encouragement to listen openly and challenge appropriately can really help to shift these responses. It’s not easy to do and it requires some effort from all involved in a group setting, a coaching relationship or any other type of relationship. In fact, it can be a far cry from the ‘holding hands and singing Kumbaya’ image that may be associated with words like compassion and safe space! But I know from both personal and professional experience that connecting with our bodies, minds, emotions and each other – in other words, embodied, courageous communication – can be truly transformative.

A bit about what I offer:

 I offer a range of coaching and consultancy services, delivered online and in person. I am a qualified coach and Performance Psychology practitioner, and use a Whole Person, embodied, relational approach in all of my work.

I have a particular focus on coaching work with those experiencing performance anxiety or having difficult experiences of being seen and heard. Examples of who I support include:

*Professionals who are finding it difficult to speak up at work

*People experiencing performance anxiety around presentations, performances or auditions

*Performers who are struggling to find their authentic sound

*People with minoritised identities who want to develop confidence in showing up authentically at work and in life.

In consultancy and facilitation work, I apply principles of psychological safety, embodiment and powerful questions in order to facilitate potentially difficult conversations and change processes that often focus on ‘big’ themes, such as belonging, identity, wellbeing and responses to organisational change.

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’.