She says…

Hangxiety – waking up after a big night of drinking singing and experiencing a hangover of heightened feelings of shame and anxiety.”

When your boss has an easier time promoting your music than you do …

You’d think as an artist with an album on the way, a band website and social media presence, a podcast and a YouTube presence that I’m comfortable being seen. I’m not.

And every time I put myself out there, every single time, there’s a repercussion. I call it the “shame hangover.” “Hangxiety” works too.

(It sounds cute, but I assure you, it’s not.)

And it’s the reason I’m still working on my debut album at 40.

When I was young I knew exactly, precisely, infinitely what I wanted to be when I grew up. It all started with Ariel, Disney’s little mermaid. I was seven and I was hooked (the “Ah-ah-ahhh” song … you know the one.) And along with that infinite knowing early in life, I also knew that that thing I wanted to be was exactly, precisely, infinitely not an option.

Where I grew up in the Midwest, there’s an unspoken (and sometimes spoken) rule: art wasn’t something you did for a living. As a hobby, maybe, but as a career, no. (Unless you wanted to be a high school teacher.) As I was informed, art as a career was surely a one-way ticket to “flaky” and “broke.” So I didn’t dare tell anyone about my secret desire. Instead, I said I wanted to be a lawyer and reveled in the accolades.

Here’s how deep this message goes: I’ll never forget playing the Game of Life with my family and everyone was vying for the lawyer or doctor card. (For what purpose, I’m not sure because the “salary” card was drawn separately.) Me, I always, always, always wanted the entertainer card. Can’t tell you how validating it felt when I flipped the card over to see that rockstar staring back at me. But I knew to pretend to be jealous of whomever got the lawyer card. Even then I knew.

Mad respect for kiddo me. And to the people who influenced my younger self – I know they were just trying to keep me safe. But somehow, despite the “golden rule,” I held tight to my dream as a youngster. I knew it in my bones, it was mine. Meant for me. I just didn’t know how I was going to get there.

So, without any real plan, I just started singing to the radio in the solace of my bedroom. (And I tell myself that no one knew but I imagine others heard.) And life was sweet. And that was enough – for awhile.

I didn’t experience the shame hangover until I was 17. At 17, something changed. Some dormant, unbeknownst, and very BOLD part woke in me, and on a dare, I rolled up to the high school musical audition – and landed the lead role.

Cue excitement – and shame.

Allow me to clarify. I’m not talking “ugh, I’m embarrassed” kind of shame – I’m talking “I’m having a hot flash, my vision is going black, I may throw up and I need to run the hell away right now – shut it down!!!” Perhaps the worst part is how stupid and foolish I feel for even daring to share anything about myself.

It was enough to make me question, maybe I’m not cut out for this?

That was the first time my heart broke.

It was only after graduating high school that I spent a lot of time wishing I could be something else. Someone not in the arts. Not in the spotlight. A librarian maybe. It seemed simpler. Safer. (That is until my therapist reminded me that even librarians have their challenges.) But thankfully, it was too late – singing was in my bones, and it had legs of its own. Pretty soon I was a lead singer of a cover band. (That’s when I met Sean.)

As an adult I turned to alcohol. Two-drink Jill was fearless. And that (sort of) worked – until the hubby and I got a cruise ship gig, where alcohol during gigs was not permitted. I felt uncomfortable the entire 4 months, save for a few shiny moments.

So here we are. And so, too, the shame.

And it grew – to a full-blown singing aversion, similar to how my body rejects chia seeds or the gym.

For the record, I do know that I’m not the only person struggling with this shame-thing. Nor will I be the last. Which is why we need to get it out there in the open. And as you may have surmised through all my stories, I’ve looked this shame thing straight in the face – mainly because it was sucking the life out of singing. I talked to my therapist(s) about it, too. And here’s what: like any mystical issue in adulthood, it has to do with my childhood, more specifically the dichotomy between my adult life and that of my childhood. And the “shame thing” was the havoc this disconnect was wreaking on my nervous system. (DANGER!)

I should start at the beginning: I was the kid who never really talked, unless I was really comfortable. And when I spoke, it was fast and mumbled. (Just ask my grandma.) And I spent a lot of time alone. And people pleasing. And being the “good girl.”

The good girl does not become a rockstar. (Or, so says her nervous system.)

(Law school, anyone?)

I really did struggle with quitting. And I’ve had multiple alternative careers. I’ve felt depressed, hopeless, broken, and just not as “alive.” And my heart has broke numerous times over the years. But I’ve since realized it’s not about the career; it’s only when I stop doing music (which basically means, songwriting) that I feel this way. And now with a little wisdom behind me, I realize that “doing music” doesn’t have to mean as a fulltime career; it can mean five minutes a day or five hours a day. It really doesn’t matter. I just have to be doing it, doing the thing I know I need to be doing.

And honestly, “because they said so” was not a real, logical answer to not do music. And certainly not worth going through all of the above.

I’ve since dropped the alcohol and found other more holistic alternatives. And I’m proud to say I am doing my music, sometimes five minutes a day, but it does happen on the regular. And … I still stumble. And beat myself up for it (not helpful, I know). And in those moments, what gets me through if my “just show up” mantra isn’t working is this: What if Alanis Morissette had bought into that story – and never pursued music as a career? Or Whitney Houston? Freddy Mercury? Or Sir Paul McCartney?!! I’m not saying I’m putting myself in that category, but I am saying that the world would be at a loss without these brilliant artists. And whether or not anyone else would lose out by not experiencing my art, I sure would. And that’s enough.

This is the stuff my BOLD side whispers …

I am a singer/songwriter. This is me. And I can finally say that I don’t wish I was anything else.

But it’s still not comfy. And I’m gradually getting okay with that. And okay with sharing that, too.

So yeah, my boss has an easier time sharing my art than I do. But I’ll get there. And it is getting easier. I’m hoping that what “they” say is true: the more you do it, the easier it gets.

Did I tell you we have a new single out? (See, I’m getting better at sharing. *wink* )