The Real Reason Why I Left Musical Theatre
"Lisa, are you aware that, when you sing, there is a shadow on your shoulder?"
"I'm sorry... What?"
"A shadow on your shoulder. It's as if you're being haunted by something. It only exists behind you when you sing."
Speechless, I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as the entire MFA Acting cohort turned their ten heads toward me, eagerly awaiting my response. I heard him loud and clear. The School of Dramatic Arts Dean, my advanced movement teacher, and our class mentor had just read me for filth. I felt embarrassed, exposed.
My secret was out, and I did not like it one bit.
In the Beginning
Lis Ermel in high school as “Maria” in The Sound of Music
I began singing in front of an audience at church when I was eight. It wasn't as much a creative expression as an act of service to a God I was already afraid of. But it was the incessant harsh criticism of my performance that I would receive upon coming home that would become my own special kind of 'eternal damnation.' The words of disapproval would echo in my mind, creating a sense of unworthiness and fear that I carried with me long after the performance was over.
Discovering musical theatre was a revelation. The sheer joy of narrating someone else's story, even if only for a brief moment, was a divine escape. It whisked me away from the relentless scrutiny at home and ushered me into a world where I could breathe, express, and be free.
As the violence at home escalated, that shadow grew larger and more menacing. It began to dominate my stage experience—causing full body tension, dry mouth, tunnel vision, nausea, self-doubt, and feelings of inadequacy reigned supreme.
Dissociation became a welcome respite.
Over time, I left the literal 'song and dance' and focused on acting. However, the joy of becoming someone else on stage had already turned into a need to disconnect from reality, a type of coping mechanism significantly impacted my sense of identity and prevented me from connecting with my authentic voice. I was no longer performing for the love of story, but as a means of escape.
It wasn't until I had the opportunity for voice and movement training that I learned how to do that and began to identify as a "singer--" and an "artist--" once again.
Lis Ermel in Joan of Arc: Cabaret at Rockwell Table & Stage (2019)
What is it about singing that feels so vulnerable?
Singing, unlike other forms of expression, requires a unique combination of physical, emotional, and technical precision. These demands can be particularly intense and overwhelming for those with complex trauma. Here are some reasons why singing feels uniquely exposing:
Technical Precision in Music: The exactness needed in music—hitting the right notes, maintaining rhythm, and controlling dynamics—adds a layer of pressure that can be daunting. Trauma can affect cognitive functions like memory and concentration, making it challenging to meet the often binary demands of musical performance.
Diaphragmatic Breath Control: Singing demands more mechanical breath control than speaking or acting. Trauma often leads to irregular and involuntary breathing patterns, activating the body's stress response, causing shallow, rapid breaths that make deep diaphragmatic breathing feel unnatural and anxiety-inducing.
Physical Exposure: Much like acting or speaking, singing involves using the entire body as an instrument. Sustaining pitch, maintaining open vocal posture, and releasing tension to better resonate is particularly challenging for trauma survivors, and we often have heightened awareness and discomfort with physical exposure due to the body's protective response to past threats.
Internalized Narratives: Many of us carry harsh internalized narratives from childhood, often rooted in criticism and perfectionism. Mixed with the precision of music, it's a doozy (we have Simon Cowell to thank for this, as well!). These narratives can make us highly sensitive to potential rejection, deeply engraining in us these negative beliefs, affecting self-esteem and increasing sensitivity to critique.
Emotional Connection: The performing arts ask us to be emotionally available and open. However, trauma can disrupt emotional regulation, making it difficult to manage any intense feelings that singing can evoke. This dual demand can be overwhelming, making the performer feel exposed and vulnerable in a way that speaking or acting does not.
Face Your Fear, Find Your Voice
In my recovery journey, I have discovered that a trauma-informed approach to training was the missing piece to help me face my fears and find my voice. Connecting with my authentic voice required vulnerability and a willingness to be seen for who I truly am, not just the characters I portrayed. This is a challenging but essential part of the process.
If you’re struggling with performance anxiety, know that you're not alone. There are ways to navigate and overcome these challenges! A trauma-informed approach to training could be the missing piece to help you take that next step.
Ready to take the plunge?
Register for my “Singing for Actors” Weekend Training Intensive August 16-18th!
