MEET LISA
Never in a million years could you have told me that one day, I would become a “voice teacher.”
As a kid, I remember feeling so nervous in the car on my way to voice lessons that my skin would start to hive. Through my adolescence and early adulthood I became increasingly uncomfortable in my body and couldn't stand up straight without tensing every muscle or holding my breath. As much as I loved to sing, I felt so stifled and stiff by the binary structure of music. I either sounded “good” or "bad.” I was either “sharp” or “flat," doing it "right" or "wrong." One single slipped note would throw me into a downward spiral, and my self-confidence dwindled each day. (How I went on to have any career as an actor is truly beyond me.)
Over time, singing no longer “sparked joy” for me. I would indulge in the occasional musical at summer stock and always had a blast doing karaoke on Monday nights at the pub. But something had changed. On a very deep level, as I lost my connection to music, my identity as a “singer” went right along with it. Even as I found myself consistently booking as an actor, I felt like I had very limited control over my voice or body in auditions and rehearsals. Often, it was almost as if they were controlling me.
This performance anxiety persisted, like a shadow impatiently looming over my shoulder. I thought something was inherently wrong with me. What I hadn't learned yet was it was a symptom of something much deeper than just “the jitters.” And if you are a human being on planet Earth, you’ve also experienced it to a certain degree, a concept that has become much more widely acknowledged in recent years: Trauma.
The body remembers what the mind cannot.
Research has shown that when we go through a traumatic experience, the command center of our nervous system— the brain— takes a "sensory snapshot" of the event and catalogs it in order for us to be better equipped to protect ourselves in the future. When we perceive we could potentially be vulnerable to another traumatic experience, the part of our brain that regulates our emotions— known as the prefrontal cortex— goes offline, while the part of our brain that sounds the alarm— the amygdala— is triggered into hyperdrive.
Once the alarm is sounded, the brain sends notifications to the rest of our body via the nervous system to prepare for the perceived danger for protection. We feel a surge of energy by way of sensation— our skin tingles, legs shake, palms get sweaty, chest can feel tight (just to name a few). Sound familiar? This is called a "trauma response,” and this is how anxiety can, quite literally, steal the show. Pretty difficult to effectively speak or sing when this happens. In fact, pretty difficult to function at all.
When we are triggered, we can’t access our creativity, imagination, or our communication skills— all things vital to becoming a collaborative, healthy, and inspired artist.
All along, there was nothing "wrong" with me. I had experienced trauma that simply wired my nervous system for survival without having the resources to to get me out of it. What I needed was a trauma-informed voice coach who could help me understand how it had been limiting my artistic potential and then-- most importantly--what to do about it.
That's why I'm here.
And if you’re still reading this, I imagine it might be why you’re here, too.
about
From established performing artists to hobbyists and complete beginners, Lisa Ermel (they/she/he) serves their clients as an experienced artist and teacher.
She developed her work ethic in the theatre for nearly 25 years and cultivated a deep commitment to voice & movement training while studying for her MFA in Acting at USC School of Dramatic Arts. Since graduating from USC, Lis has worked at the Ahmanson Theatre, Mark Taper Forum, and Rockwell Table & Stage, where they co-wrote and starred in a one-woman show, “Joan of Arc: Cabaret.”
A queer, neurodivergent trauma-informed 200hr Registered Yoga Teacher (200RYT®) and AEA/SAG-AFTRA actor in Los Angeles, Lisa enjoys spending their time between auditions cuddling her pit mix with her partner, overwatering her plants, doom scrolling on Instagram, and coaching trauma-informed voice lessons through her private practice, “The Virtual Studio.”