Long Story Short | That Dreaded Feeling

Walking up the stairs into my acapella audition, the words kept ringing in my head that I wasn’t good enough. Heading to the room with my sheet music in one hand, I saw person after person who seemed more talented, prepared and confident. Just as I was looking over the lyrics, I heard the girl auditioning before me. Her flawless notes and beautiful singing only deepened these feelings of inadequacy. Right then and there, I knew I wasn’t going to get a part.

Entering the audition room, I quickly introduced myself before singing. Just as I started, I realized I had forgotten the rest of the lyrics. I apologized and started over, but despite practicing this song a million times, I forgot the lyrics again. Embarrassed, I had to look up the lyrics on my phone, even though it was a song I knew by heart. 

Coming home from this audition, I felt devastated. I knew I messed up and began to spiral with self-doubt. I had play auditions later in the week and debated canceling them, because what if I forgot the words again? I invested so much time and effort just to make such a big mistake. 

After a couple of days, I decided to face my fears and go to play auditions. Although I fortunately remembered the words this time, I still didn’t get cast. However, I saw an opening for another play and decided to give performing one more chance this semester. 

Knowing I had to give it my all, I spent days working on my monologue. I watched countless performances on YouTube to perfect my presentation. When I woke up in the morning, I recited my monologue. When I went to bed, I recited it again. 

Eventually, the audition day came, and hours before I was supposed to go in, I had the feeling that something wasn’t right. Reviewing the scene before I left, I walked into the audition room where I had about ten minutes to prepare. As I was sitting on the stairs looking over my paper, I felt my leg starting to shake, and I got the dreaded pit of anxiety in my stomach.

My mind started to race, and when my name was finally called, I walked in front of the directors. All of a sudden, I didn’t remember anything from the monologue. I said the first few lines before freezing, my thoughts a jumble of Shakespearean words. I apologized and tried again, spewing out what lines I could remember before stepping out. 

Coming back to my room, I was mortified. I knew I messed up, and I did it in front of people I knew. If forgetting everything was just a one-time thing, I wouldn’t think much of it, but this phenomenon is one I am all too familiar with. 

Referred to as “blanking,” it is when you just can’t remember something. For me, this often occurs in high-stress situations when I have a lot of pressure on myself to succeed. For example, taking a test, job interviews or auditioning usually elicit this phenomenon. Even though I spent days studying and reviewing the materials, the second the moment came up, I just couldn’t remember anything I prepared. 

I know all of this stems from my fear of failure. I get so scared to mess up that I do just that. This fear of failure is deeply rooted — and it is not just my struggle. It’s one many women face. 

Society often imposes a formula for how women should behave that states they should be flawless in order to be valued. For example, I know I should succeed academically but not talk about my achievements, be nice to strangers but not put myself in a dangerous position and although I may feel insecure, keep quiet about it and internalize my self-doubt. 

Growing up, I distinctly remember walking into rooms dominated by men, knowing my voice wouldn’t be heard. Despite my efforts to overcome this, it still doesn’t stop the feeling that I have to constantly prove myself in a world made to question my worth. 

Although it’s easier said than done, one of the things I keep on working on is that my insecurities are not my abilities. Instead, it is a result of living in a world demanding perfection. Day by day, I’m learning to reject the notion we should never make mistakes. 

It’s a continuous and difficult process to challenge that inner voice, and it’s probably one I will have to work on for a long while. As cliche as it sounds, mistakes are human, and I have to continually learn to accept them unapologetically.