Stage Fright

My bucket story

I love music. My mom was musical, and we always had instruments at home. We also had a massive collection of albums and would spend hours sitting around the record player listening to many of Mom’s favorites.

At the bottom of the basement stairs sat an antique organ. You had to pump the peddles with your feet to make it work. My Mom taught me how to play it when I was a little girl. She worked the peddles because I couldn’t reach them. I’d sit on her lap as she taught me how to use my fingers to play the notes.

She taught me how to read music and let me learn how to play all her instruments, including the concertina, accordion, banjo, and guitar. In school, I learned how to play the recorder and the saxophone. As a teenager, I was teaching myself how to play instruments and added bass, clarinet, and flute to my list.

One of my favorite childhood memories is sitting on the beach at the family cabin. Mom would play her accordion, and I’d play my guitar or sax. People would come by in their boats and shout out requests. This always made my Mom smile, and I loved her smile!

I played in the school band but didn’t like it when I was chosen to be a soloist for our band concerts. It always made me nervous to perform in front of others, and this got much worse as I got older. It is a tragic day when the innocence of childhood is destroyed, and a person learns how cruel and judgmental others can be. That harsh lesson contributed to my fear of performing in front of others.

My parents divorced when I was in 6th grade. Mom struggled to support two kids by herself. I was in 10th grade when I was invited to play in a band that performed for pay. This offered me an opportunity to make extra money outside of my part-time job and help Mom with expenses.

Our first gigs were weddings, school dances, and special occasions. During my senior year, we started playing in bars. One summer, we went on the road and played for a few months in California. By then, the stage fright had accelerated into a challenge that was hard to beat.

I would get so nervous before a performance that sometimes I would get sick. My bandmates took a bucket and decorated it. They painted “Skip’s Puke Pail” on it. It was with us everywhere we played! Humor can be helpful, and they tried really hard to make me laugh.

Sometimes, I’d freak out before we performed, and it took the guys a bit to figure out how to help me. Years later, I would learn that this had a name. I was having panic attacks, something I deal with to this day. It wouldn’t be until 2020 that I learned that I have panic attacks because I live with an anxiety disorder.

In 1980, I walked away from music and didn’t have to deal with stage fright for several years until I became an advocate for tobacco harm reduction. Being an advocate can mean standing up in front of a group of lawmakers and testifying at a hearing. It can mean being asked to participate in podcasts and live streams. There have been opportunities to have Zoom meetings with people I don’t know.

I can laugh now when I think of those first Zoom meetings, sitting with a bucket at my feet, just in case I needed it. I was that afraid to be on camera and talk to strangers!

In 2022, I was asked to participate on a panel at GTNF and give a presentation. It took a team to get me on that stage, and it took a lot of inner strength not to bolt from the room. The experience is somewhat of a blur, and I can’t remember what most people said to me the few minutes after our time on stage came to an end.

I remember one person saying, “I’m proud of you.” These were words I was starving to hear most of my life, and typing them now brings tears to my eyes.

The experience taught me that when something is important and I have an opportunity to use my voice, I can stand on a stage and speak. I learned that I need support to get there. I finally learned that it’s okay to ask for and receive help. The saying, “It takes a village,” is true, and we are all better off when we lift each other up.