Singers live by the mantra “The show must go on!” But how do we compartmentalize grief and the accompanying emotions to maintain our performing requirements while still healing?
Catharsis (noun)
- An emotional release in drama or art
- In psychology, the process of freeing and eliminating repressed emotion
(The Oxford American Desk Dictionary and Thesaurus © 2001)
I heard a masterclass clinician once say, “We want the audience’s heart to break, not break our own hearts.” As singers, we offer a great gift. We perform music that transports others to the far reaches of reality and the imagination. Combining text with music, we tell the stories that we love to share—and the stories that must be told. We take this responsibility seriously, honing our craft so that audiences can experience the emotional depths of humanity.
But while they can experience a cathartic release of emotions, we onstage must keep our emotions carefully controlled. We spend years in training so that when we walk on the operatic stage, audiences don’t see us, they see an “other”: a ruler, a poet, a femme fatal, a jokester, a lover, a tortured soul. This is also a protective defense for our own psyches since we don’t want to leave the theater inhabiting the lives of a murderer, victim, or someone doomed to eternal torment.
When singing recitals, while we may enter and exit as ourselves, we offer a story with each selection, creating characters and situations that are then left on the stage and in the minds and hearts of our audience members. We dedicate a great deal of time to studying, coaching, and rehearsing so that we have the physical and emotional strength and stamina to sing this exquisite music to the best of our abilities and to bare our souls, but only so much. Part of our training is to know just how far to go, how much to push ourselves and our audiences emotionally.
Let’s be clear—we are entertainers, and this release of emotion, this catharsis, is what we offer to our audiences. Whether we perform Winterreise in a recital hall, or Mimì on the operatic stage, we take our audiences on an emotional journey, facilitating their cathartic experiences. At the same time, we carefully prepare so that we do not become so emotionally engaged that the musical vehicle suffers.
Advertisement
What does this have to do with the title of this article? “The show must go on!” is the time-honored mantra of all performers and producers. From a practical standpoint, the show must go on because the venue can’t afford to refund the ticket money or pay the cast and crew if the curtain does not go up. But from a professional standpoint, we want to be on the stage to share these stories and experiences with our audiences. We persevere through all sorts of challenges, including bad weather, power outages, travel delays, and illness. We rally together to bring joy and sometimes solace to our communities after traumatic events, which we can offer to a grieving individual or community. But what happens when we are the ones who are hurting, who are struggling with loss, pain, anger, defeat?
During our years of study, we build a repertoire of coping mechanisms that allows us to fulfill our obligations to ourselves and to others. Some of these learned strategies remain valuable to us after graduation.
One of the most frequent challenges we face is illness. We know our bodies and our physical health indicators so well that the moment we feel a little off, a small tickle in our throat, congestion, or an unusual headache, we take action. We might call our primary doctor or ENT, or perhaps start following our own homeopathic routine. We say to ourselves, “I can’t be sick now!” so we embark on our tried-and-true remedies. We know what to do because we have experience dealing with these types of circumstances, building a regime that allows us to fulfill our commitments. We know our bodies and know how to respond, including recognizing when the onset of symptoms is more than we can manage alone.
We have all had to ask ourselves if the show can go on. How ill is too ill to sing? And what will be the ramifications if we cancel? Managers, concert promoters, and collaborators understand that illnesses happen. If performing in an operatic or musical theater production, the company most likely has addressed this contingency by hiring understudies, swing, or standby performers, and your contract most likely includes procedures for withdrawing from a performance due to illness or accident. The show can certainly go on if you are indisposed. When contracted to sing a solo recital, there are no understudies and those concerts are either postponed or cancelled. For these solo performances, you and your collaborators must decide if you will perform, if the concert will be modified, and what safety protocols need to be in place.
Remember that, in addition to addressing the state of our health, we must consider if this illness will have an adverse effect on others. Especially after the last few years we have endured, it is our obligation to ensure that we are not spreading even “a simple cold.” The show must go on—and while it can if our understudy takes the stage, it can’t if we infect the entire cast.
But there are other reasons we might consider withdrawing from a production, reasons that we choose not to share with others, reasons that are too personal. What happens then? Perhaps you already know some of your mental health indicators, just as you know your physical health indicators. And just maybe, looking back on your past, you have built a regimen to help yourself navigate emotional turmoil just as you have a regimen to cope with physical illness.
Advertisement
What if we are immersed in grief, pain, anger, or resentment or feel hopeless or lost? Must the show go on? Understand that the physical toll these emotional states have on us are real and profound, affecting every part of our selves. Because of crying or yelling, our voice may be sore and strained. Our breathing musculature may hurt, and our concentration might be disrupted due to the inability to eat and sleep. Knowing how our body reacts to these circumstances is only part of navigating the situations.
Experts have identified various stages of grief, and a few have delved into the emotional and physical toll of betrayal or senseless violence. If we have the ability to walk away from a job because we physically and emotionally cannot perform, then we walk away. Corporate America is slowly recognizing the necessity for bereavement leave, but the minimal benefits offered to some are typically out of reach for independent contractors like us.
There are no federal laws that require employers to offer bereavement leave. According to the website employmentlawhandbook.com, only five states (California, Illinois, Maryland, Oregon, and Washington) have enacted laws that require employers to provide some form of bereavement leave. However, this leave is typically only applicable to salaried or wage employees, omitting independent contractors. And while the 1993 Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA) has offered stability to thousands, it does not apply to part-time or contract employees.
So, what do you do? It is a difficult truth that employers and even coworkers quickly move from being concerned for your well-being to wondering when you will return to your “regular” level of productivity. Because we can’t control the reactions of others, we must look to ourselves and decide how we can manage our own emotional rollercoaster. If the show must go on, we have to develop mechanisms and strategies that go beyond adjusting our frame of mind and address how to make it through the show/concert/recital.
One recognized strategy is compartmentalization. This defense mechanism allows one to separate the thoughts, emotions, and physical reactions from the tasks that must be performed. For example, knowing that you are unable to perform if you have been yelling or crying, you must first stop yourself from engaging in these actions, finding a way to turn your mind from the thoughts that elicit those reactions. You must choose to not think of your grandmother’s favorite song or look at the stack of birthday cards she sent through the years with her little notations under special words. Compartmentalization helps you to section off those thoughts and memories for a time, telling yourself that your cathartic release can happen after the performance.
Another strategy is to dive into your work or other activity to distract yourself, creating a buffer of time so that you can still perform, delaying your own emotional release until after the performance.
Because we all react differently, there is no timeline for when the gut-wrenching responses will ease. We also can’t control our immediate reactions when others say something, trying to offer sympathy, that pulls us right back into the pain. All we can do is understand ourselves and give ourselves permission to travel this road as we need to.
We are emotional beings, and as singers we regularly tap into powerful feelings. But when we are the ones that are experiencing fierce reactions to events, we need to find ways to manage and fulfill our commitments—or realize that sometimes we must step away. For us the show will not always go on. But finding the strategies to navigate the difficult journeys is vitally important, just as important as developing strategies to managing physical illness.
We can’t control how others treat us, but we can control how we respond. Find ways to make peace within yourself and, especially, be kind and forgiving to yourself so that you can heal and bring your gift of music back to your audiences and yourself.
Disclaimer:
The author is neither a medical doctor nor trained as a mental health care provider; she is only offering her observations and personal experiences. If you or a loved one is struggling, please seek out help immediately. Go to your local emergency room or primary physician, or consider calling the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline. Help is always available to you.
