Waiting...

I've been thinking lately about how I don't miss performing as much as I thought I would.

I spent about 15 years of my life working toward one goal: to be a professional, classical singer. To that end, I earned two degrees in music, did endless auditions, learned to write a good resume and cover letter, spent a fortune on headshots and demo tapes (tapes!), spent another fortune on traveling for all those auditions, endured at least five thousand rejection letters, attended countless operas, and practiced during every free minute. Oh, and did get to do some performing, too, in operas, operettas, one concert appearance and a few self-produced recitals.

It was a hectic way of life, and not all that rewarding. The rejections far outnumbered the gigs, and even when I won an audition, and truly enjoyed myself during the rehearsals and performances, it was a stressful experience. I was always second-guessing my sound, my technique, my appearance; always having uncomfortable interactions with colleagues (hello, social relatedness issues); and always glad when it was over and I could go home.

So a few years ago, I stopped auditioning. Of course, that move roughly corresponded with the births of my children, but I did do some performing when Abby was small, and still had the same old issues. Even the one concert appearance a couple of years ago -- I was so grateful for the opportunity, but didn't really, really enjoy it the way I thought I would. It was a thrill to make music with some fantastic colleagues, but overall I just remember it being a stressful experience, loaded with thoughts about whether I was good enough and how I would really just rather be home.

It's been more than two years since that concert, and I've done zero performing since then. The exception is my church work, where I sing three masses at three different churches most weekends. But that's less of a performance and more of a ministry (although at a couple of the churches, the dear people usually applaud after mass, which makes me a little uncomfortable, but what can I do?) I've adopted the thought that the cantoring is enough performing for me right now, and it is.

So why don't I miss the actual performing more? Can it be that I was never meant to go down that road very far? Did I not have the big career I strove for because I wasn't talented enough, or because my heart just wasn't in it? Maybe a bit of both, and it saddens me to think I spent so many years chasing after something that I'd never catch, and which probably wouldn't have made me happy, even if I had.

I'm actually quite content, but I feel like somehow I shouldn't be. I tell myself I have other talents, and that I'm putting them to good use. I love to teach, and I'm good at it. And writing, which had been a means to support myself during the audition years (via corporate communications jobs) has now turned into the main gig somehow. Well, one of the three main gigs, with cantoring and teaching being the other two.

I feel like I've somehow betrayed my younger self. Did I give up, or just grow up?

I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop, with all the force of unfulfilled dreams. No sign of it yet.