We all have fears. Collectively, humans have a fear of heights, fear of small spaces, fear of public speaking, fear of abandonment, fear of dogs. We acknowledge them and occasionally have to work through them to conduct our lives. I\u2019m not a huge fan of flying, but after downing three vodkas at the airport bar at 6 a.m. I have faked bravery and managed to get on a plane many times. I have no real desire to overcome this fear, because it doesn\u2019t affect me that often, and the airport bar is never out of my coping mechanism.<\/p>\n
I have had one fear my entire life that does haunt me however. Sadly this fear is also the same response I give people when someone asks me \u201cWhat\u2019s your dream job, if you could do any job in the world, what would it be?\u201d<\/p>\n
Singing.<\/i><\/p>\n
More specifically, <\/i>sitting at a piano or with a guitar, <\/i>singing sad songs about broken hearts and broken dreams in a dark corner of some forgotten little hotel bar in the middle of nowhere\u2014maybe even at that airport bar.<\/p>\n
Some of my friends reading this are nodding their heads because they know my fear of singing in public. They know that I fear it so much that I can\u2019t even enjoy others doing it. I will turn my chair in a bar on open mic night to face away from the stage, and if you want me to leave your house just suggest \u201cHow about some karaoke?\u201d If you take one step in the direction of that microphone I\u2019m already in my car and halfway down the block. I get a knot in my stomach at the thought of it, even at the thought of someone else <\/i>doing it.<\/p>\n
I can\u2019t enjoy the bar up the street from me when they have musical artists perform. I\u2019m uncomfortable the whole time. My heart will race. I\u2019ll reposition my chair. I\u2019ll ignore them to the point of being rude.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s not that I\u2019m trying to be rude. It\u2019s actually the opposite. I\u2019m so overly empathetic to them that I want to make it easier for them. It\u2019s as if I want to say \u201cNever mind me, don\u2019t be nervous, I\u2019m not looking, see, not looking!\u201d I\u2019m so nervous for them that I feel a little sick inside.<\/p>\n
They get up in front of a room packed with strangers, and they do my dream job. They fulfill my fantasy and have a blast doing it, as \u00a0I hide like a cat under the bed.<\/p>\n
This is a recurring scenario in my life and often times the reason I shy away from live music.<\/p>\n
The fear causes me to miss out. It makes me squirm and experience unpleasant anxiety symptoms while my friends are kicking back, feeling the music, letting loose and enjoying themselves.<\/p>\n
When my kids were babies, I sang to them. I sang with them. We sang in the car to silly songs that annoyingly stayed in my head for hours. I rocked them to sleep and sang a Linda Ronstadt song to them every night (I\u2019m sure they don\u2019t remember). They never judged my singing ability. They loved it. I loved doing it.<\/p>\n
One time we had friends staying with us and after singing my son to sleep I rejoined them in the living room. My friend said, \u201cI heard you singing through the baby monitor. It was so sweet. Do you do that every night?\u201d<\/p>\n
I was mortified. My evening was so preoccupied by the fact that I had forgotten about the baby monitor and had carelessly allowed someone to hear me singing that I could hardly engage with my friends the rest of the night.<\/p>\n
Recently, in a moment of brash insanity I reached out to a vocal coach inquiring about voice lessons. I told her briefly of my paralyzing fear, and how I wanted to challenge myself to overcome it, step out of my comfort zone. I actually used the phrase \u201cmight throw up\u201d in my initial email and hit SEND. It felt like I had bungee jumped off a tower.<\/p>\n
That was nothing compared to the adrenaline rush and immediate anxiety I felt when I received her response the next day. \u201cSee you Wednesday at 3:15.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oh shit.<\/p>\n
Wednesday came (very quickly as I was dreading it) and I arrived to her studio in a bundle of nerves. Shaking, my stomach in knots, sweating\u2026<\/p>\n
The first thing she did was give me a pretty intense pep talk. It felt more like I was in a therapy session than a voice lesson. It was a lot of listening and nodding and no singing. I was thinking, \u201cshe better make me sing today because if I leave and don\u2019t sing I might not ever come back.\u201d She must have heard my mental whispers because after some breathing lessons she sat at her keyboard and we began.<\/p>\n
Keep in mind I had prefaced my meeting with, \u201cI have no idea if I can sing. I\u2019ve never tried.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her response was quick.<\/p>\n
\u201cEveryone can sing. And everyone should<\/i> sing.\u201d<\/p>\n
Oh crap, here we go\u2026<\/p>\n
\u201cStart with this,\u201d she sang a string of vowel sounds as her keyboard played along.<\/p>\n
I repeated them.<\/p>\n
My heart pounded.<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain\u2026\u201d and her keyboard played a different strand of notes.<\/p>\n
I repeated.<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
After each she would play notes that sounded as if the keyboard was proclaiming \u201cTah-dah!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cTah-dah!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAgain\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Finally she stopped her torture on me. I thought I might need to sit down. My knees were weak. I felt dizzy.<\/p>\n
She looks up from the keyboard and smiles, \u201cVery good! You have about a 2.5 octave range. You\u2019re a true alto and you\u2019re going to be amazed at what you can do.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh well\u2026um\u2026I don\u2019t really want to become a singer. I just want to overcome my fear of singing.\u201d<\/p>\n
She smiled, \u201cOk. We\u2019ll see about that.\u201d<\/p>\n
What had I done? I saw it. I saw that little glimmer in her eye, like the teacher who was about to pass out the pop quiz.<\/p>\n
So for a few months now, every Wednesday afternoon\u2014I go to a voice lesson.<\/p>\n
*that ka-thud you just heard is some of my friends fainting and hitting the floor*<\/b><\/p>\n
And I hate it.<\/strong><\/p>\n In fact, I hate Wednesdays so badly now that I hate Tuesdays too just in preparation. Am I singing well every week? Oh God no\u2026sometimes I sound like the person I would turn my chair away from at the bar for fear of seeing their embarrassment. Do I feel super self-conscious, uncomfortable and sweaty singing in front of her?<\/p>\n Every. Single. Time.<\/p>\n It\u2019s absolute agony if I\u2019m being honest, but I\u2019m there.<\/p>\n Recently, even before I started voice lessons, I had noticed some ringing in my left ear. As the ringing became more severe I decided to consult a specialist for it and after numerous tests, hearing evaluations and an MRI, it was discovered that I have a sizable blood vessel growing through a cluster of nerves in my ear giving me some nerve damage. Long story short, my ear ringing is because I am slowly losing my hearing in my left ear.<\/p>\n I sat in the car after the appointment with my ENT wearing a demo pair of hearing devices, shaking my head at the irony of my situation and wondering if I might cry. I have to \u201cwonder\u201d if I might cry before I cry because in my family of Southern women crying isn\u2019t encouraged. I have to evaluate if something is \u201ccry worthy,\u201d and then give myself permission to cry. Sounds ridiculous, right? It is, but that\u2019s just how us Southern women with years of specialized training in dysfunctional emotional patterns roll.<\/p>\n I decided that I didn\u2019t need to cry over it, because\u2026 wait a minute\u2026.in reality it was a good reason to end my voice lessons\u2014hot damn!<\/p>\n Hearing loss I\u2019d like to introduce you to silver lining<\/i>. I was getting out of that Wednesday afternoon session of suffering.<\/p>\n It was the \u201cwell I tried to sing, but look, I\u2019m going deaf in one ear so I might as well just quit,\u201d excuse and I was taking it all the way to the bank.<\/p>\n Or so I thought.<\/p>\n My voice teacher listened attentively as I gave my little sob story about losing my hearing and when I was finished said, \u201cIt\u2019s ok. I have had several students who are hearing impaired over the years. You don\u2019t need to be able to hear to sing. I\u2019ll teach you\u2026 OK, lets start today off with some breathing exercises\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n She wasn\u2019t having it.<\/p>\n I was stunned for a second. I paused, but then began my breathing and running my vocal scales just like any other lesson. She wasn\u2019t giving me the chance to quit.<\/p>\n As I sang, I heard her voice on that first day \u201cEveryone can sing, and everyone should sing<\/i>.\u201d<\/p>\n Then I heard my own voice in my head, \u201cShe\u2019s right. Why are you holding back? Because you\u2019re afraid you\u2019ll embarrass yourself? Sing louder. Sing like you don\u2019t care. Missy sing for yourself, use your voice, for once in your life don\u2019t give a shit what anyone else thinks. Don\u2019t be afraid of sounding bad, so what<\/i>\u2026don\u2019t be afraid of messing up, don\u2019t be afraid of being afraid!\u201d<\/p>\n As I began to sing my rather horrendous rendition of a truly great song which I practice every week\u2014and every week I manage to completely annihilate\u2014I felt some of my hesitation lift, I felt some confidence budding, and some power and depth in my voice I\u2019d never felt or heard before. I thought about the children she must teach (for I am her oldest student ever) who are singing without any shyness or trepidation, like only kids can do<\/i>\u2014some wearing cochlear implants, some who can\u2019t hear their own voices when they sing, but they sing like nightingales in the shower nonetheless.<\/p>\n Afterwards my teacher looked at me and smiled,<\/p>\n \u201cThat\u2019s the best I\u2019ve ever heard you sing. Don\u2019t ever tell me you can\u2019t sing again.\u201d<\/p>\n I left my lesson that day with so much more than knowledge on breathing, pitch and tone but the discovery of a voice I never even knew I had. The one I\u2019ve kept muffled under the covers for fear of being too loud, being too much, being wrong, being bad, being afraid.<\/p>\n I realize now what those singers in the bars that used to make me uncomfortable realize. It makes no difference how you sing it\u2019s just important that you sing. It\u2019s freeing, almost spiritual, when you do something that you suck at, but you just do it anyway. The problem is by the time we reach adulthood, most of us have mastered the art of avoiding things we suck at, or think we suck at, or are afraid we might suck at.<\/p>\n So for now my new hearing devices and I are continuing on in our pursuit together just to sing, period. Because we SHOULD sing, and because my hearing loss is predicted to worsen, I don\u2019t know how much longer I\u2019ll be able to hear my own voice as it sounds now. I want to hear it as much as possible.<\/p>\n Maybe one day I\u2019ll have the courage to pursue my dream job of singing in a dark corner of that lonely little hotel bar by the airport. And maybe I\u2019ll suck at it.<\/p>\n Hell, I\u2019ll be deaf anyway, I probably won\u2019t even know.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" We all have fears. Collectively, humans have a fear of heights, fear of small spaces, fear of public speaking, fear of abandonment, fear of dogs. We acknowledge them and occasionally have to work through them to conduct our lives. I\u2019m not a huge fan of flying, but after downing three vodkas at the airport bar … <\/p>\n