You know that old nature versus nurture debate?
I was born with brown hair, but did I really inherit my stubbornness from my Mom, and my sense of humor from my Dad? Is my personality the result of my genes, or just living with my family my whole life? I love thinking about this, because I always find a way to make both arguments.
Case in point: I have performance anxiety. Speaking in front of groups makes my heart pound, and my hands shake a little bit. Sometimes my voice gets squeaky or I break a sweat or this buzzing noise fills my ears. It happens mostly when I’m singled out for attention, when I know people are listening to me, evaluating what I’m saying.
We could find a pattern if we wanted to. Trace a shy little girl who hides behind her mother’s legs to the adolescent who spends too much time reading and not enough talking to the other kids on the bus. See her suffer through mandatory Speech class in high school, and if you can stand it, watch that horrendous improv audition for a high school play. (It’s still the stuff of my nightmares.) It’s nature, right? She’s an introvert, type-A personality. She made some valiant efforts, but she’s just not the type to stand in a spotlight.
I thought that a lot over the years. I still do, usually on karaoke night as Kristin harasses everyone into singing with her (in the friendliest way possible).
But that doesn’t explain how I got cast as Cecily in the Art Council’s upcoming production of “The Importance of Being Earnest.” It doesn’t explain why I decided a few months ago that auditioning would be fun instead of terrifying. Or how I showed up to auditions last week a little giddy, not even nervous, and had a marvelous time bantering and preening. Or why I’m now sitting next to a script, contemplating the months ahead with excitement.
I’m still an introvert. I don’t care for talking to groups, and I’ll always like writing better. But it turns out that I might not mind so much talking in front of groups, especially when it isn’t my own words on the chopping block. The spotlight might be a little bit fun.
As I wrote this, I remembered something else: In elementary school, I memorized and performed a poem in front of all the fourth grade parents and three judges. It was a poem about eggs, which were my favorite food. I won first place. Everyone else whispered and stared at the floor; I spoke loudly and threw my arms around. My classmates were terrified to perform, and honestly, it didn’t even occur to me to be nervous until I saw them.
So maybe I learned to be nervous from the people around me in every speech class and audition room. Maybe I was born that way. Or maybe it was a bit of both–something I grew into naturally as a self-conscious teenager and have grown out of as it I get a little older and a little more comfortable with myself.
We shall see, won’t we?
