Crippling Self Doubt And Other Evil Villains: The Dark Side To Performing Without A Net

Ironically, this is from the show mentioned below. 
Dale Stones is the one throttling me.  
Photo by Justin Moore.

It sits in a dark corner,waiting for you to relax and let your guard down. It knows that life is going well for you and it wants to fuck it up.

Or it cuddles in the front row, dead center with its ugly girlfriend, Panic, goading you as you fall deeper and deeper into the pit of sweaty self abuse with every consequential mistake you make, making it worse and worse.

Or it pokes you with its stick made out of everything that you ever hated about yourself  as soon as you do the slightest thing not perfectly.

You will be fired. You aren't worth loving. You are nothing but a fuck up so how could you possibly get this right. Remember the last time you failed? Remember how badly it scorched you? It's going to happen again and again and again because you are nothing but  failure. You are going to die in an even worse version of the body that you have only ever loved when you are emaciated. You are fat. You are old. You have failed at life.

It makes you jealous of everyone, constantly lonely because there is not enough reassurance in the world that you are as good as every one else. Lugging the wounds of your emotional past with him wherever he follows you.

We finished a show that was technically difficult for the hosts because there was a lot of material to regurgitate relatively unrehearsed. And even when we could rehearse it, it wasn't going to match what would happen during a live show because the audience was an essential dynamic. Instantaneous change is the nature of the beast and it is terrifying. So the crippling self doubt has a wealth of food with which to strengthen itself.

The show went well. I felt good about it for a bit. But that only lasts so long. My partner excelled so of course I felt worse about every stinking mistake I made because now I failed him as well. Error is public and effects every one you touch. An introduction is weak. A wrong lyric trips another performer. He is young and likeable and perfect.  I was proud of him because he took a step beyond his comfort zone, putting himself in a place where his dark brooding evil villain has plenty to suck from him too. But that post show warmth only lasts so long. As soon you are all alone in your head with Crippling Self Doubt goading you from the corner, reliving the things you should have done.

Now we do it again. And I will fight my inner villain with the only tools I know to put him at bay. Rehearsal. Review. Fix the mistakes. And be perfect. So he will be quiet for now. Today. Until the next time.