It is hard to say when music became a source of panic and anxiety for me. I clearly remember having several panic and/or anxiety attacks before, during and after any music-based activity— that included every performance, class, and lessons. This was difficult considering I was an aspiring musician attempting to complete a B.A in Music. (I wanted performance but I was never accepted into the program.)

Music had always been a pillar in my life. My Saturday mornings were filled with eclectic and dynamic music from some of the greatest artists. I knew of the deep sorrows of Chavela, I sat and watched the valiants of Mexican Cinema sing their soul out on the screen, and I cherished the folk tunes my mom would sing. I was always surrounded by music since I could remember. Being a creative child who was always looking to create beauty in sounds and vision. I was always dreaming about becoming a musician and artist. Music was something more than a past time. It was an intense desire.

I picked up my instrument for the first time when I was 14 and ran with it. I signed up for every music thing I could, marching band, symphonic band, jazz band, choir, competitions. I knew I wanted this to be a part of my life alongside art and I started mentioning it to loved ones. I would get the uncomfortable silences and concerned looks. Was there something I was unaware of? Or perhaps I was not good enough? Then I started researching music and art jobs… and the career prospect did not look good at all. I started to worry about my future.

I began preparing for university my junior year. I was pretty unsure of what I should pursue. I really wanted music and art, but the financial risks were high. I figured I would pick a public university that let me explore my options. Despite the concern, I could not let go of the idea of being a musician. I could not afford lessons, but I was determined to be the best that I could be for auditions into university. It was a pretty uneventful year, but little did I know, I was about to be completely blindsided by my expectations as a music student.

I auditioned to 4 different universities and 4 times at UIC before being accepted into the program.

Talk about a humbling experience.

If I recall correctly, I believe I played an Etude from Kohler Op. 33— and it was only a few measures. It was definitely not the full page. The expectations and requirements of a college audition are usually two contrasting works, scales, sight reading, and some sort of paper testing. Now, my half etude (more like a line), my strong one octave Bb Major scale, sort of C Major scale, and non-existent sight-reading skills were just not going to cut it in any program. I am aware now. I just did not know what college auditions where or how they worked back then. Nor did I know that I was behind most people my age in the music field. I was blissfully unaware. I just knew I liked to play flute and I was going to put forth hard work and effort.

After each audition, there was always an auditioning faculty member pulling me to the side telling me that they cannot accept me into the program. I did not really understand why and all I said was “ok! I'll find somewhere else”. I cannot express to you how unaware I was to the music culture. I did not ask for any explanations or feedback. I just said OK and kept it moving. That is until I got to UIC. After the second or third audition, someone finally explained to me what the requirements are and that my skill level was comparative to a beginner in grade school.

Ouch.

What compelled me to keep trying despite all the rejection? I cannot really say other than I was perseverant and determined to make this work. Once I got in to the program, whether it was for pity or curiosity, I started realizing how behind I was. All the music theory, history, ear training, keyboard skills, and performance practices were new to me. Just everything about music academia seemed unreal but I wanted this! I was excited for this new journey.

This time in my life felt indescribable. Looking back on it, there were a multitude of reasons on why I was having daily panic attacks. It was a cultural shock paired with: having a hyper-critical instructor, dealing with traumatic situations, no support system, the uncertainty that comes with being a creative, unprocessed trauma, undiagnosed disabilities, and finally the immense amount of pressure that it is to be a first-generation Mexican woman in academia. Music making, something so human became a huge pain point for me.

I was constantly searching for answers and being constantly invalidated.

I did not fully understand the severity of my panic attacks at the time. I used to call it my intense nervousness. I recall the first “bad” panic and anxiety attack as the day I had my first performance in front of my peers. Weeks leading up to that day, I was engaging in really unhealthy obsessions like practicing every minute I could, listening to the pieces I was playing, setting up a metronome to play during my sleep (no really. I thought it would somehow subconsciously influence my playing ability). On the day of, I got up really early practiced, ditched class, cried through the entire 8 hours that day, and then I had a full blown panic attack right before the performance. Performed with blood shot eyes and then went home to cry some more and then sleep.

Yeah. Not pleasant at all.

That was not the end of that cycle. It was the first of many experiences and it progressively got worse. I relentlessly Googled “how to cure performance anxiety”, “Working through anxiety”, “how to perform”, “what is performance anxiety,” etc. I could not find a single article that gave any advice outside of “physical advice” or had over generalizations. Trust me, I followed that advice like: not drinking caffeine, practicing a lot, limiting sugar, eating bananas, visualization, jumping, running around, deep breathing. You name it, I did it. I went to therapy, and it still seemed like it was an impossible task to overcome (more on this later on).

The more I expressed this, the more well-intentioned people would say they completely understand me and it is something you can just get over. Usually I would ask “So you cry in your practice room from intense fear too on a regular basis too?” Commonly, it was met with answers that completely invalidated what I was going through, complete disbelief, or just being stumped. While I never expected someone to “cure me”, I think my problem was seen as a music problem and not complex and multi-layered issue. A music teacher would not be able to help unless they had a very global perspective.

Leaving a semester before Graduating

It was one of the scariest decisions I made in my life. I had no plans whatsoever. I cannot say I had all the love and support I needed. Despite that, I had a few friends that stood by my decisions and really helped me through this dark time. I stopped practicing flute and I started exploring other aspects of my life and trying to figure out who or what I was about. I knew I needed a job, but it was quite difficult at first. I was a college dropout who was “too young” to have the experiences I had (I worked young. So, a 22-year-old with 5 years of experience seemed unreal. But hey, that’s the reality for some people). I worked several odd jobs before settling on doing volunteer work AmeriCorp to boost my work experience.

I did all sorts of things while I started a business that eventually turned into The Anxious Musician plus a coffee company, an art business, and a digital media company.

Although I was fighting a lot of demons during this era, I came back to music. After 5 years of leaving, I’ll be graduating this May! There was a hole in my heart without it. It was an incredibly volatile but necessary time in my life. Much of my personal healing and growth came from this time.

Life as of now

My panic attacks have not been as crippling, and they are manageable. I still get pretty nervous for performances but over the years I have learned how to ground myself and how to practice for myself. Is it foolproof? Not quite but I’m close to understanding my brain. But I am at a place in my life where I can perform and teach. Performing is still a little bit hard for me but it is becoming more comfortable as I process and make sense of my life experiences. While it has taken me a grueling 10 years to get where I am now, I did learn a lot. One of the biggest realizations I have, is that my performance anxiety is not directly a music problem.

How did I make my performance anxiety, manageable?

I discovered that I needed a better support system— the right music teachers, the right therapist, the right PCP, and so on. The answer to my problem has been complicated to say the least. It was never about forcing myself to perform more or practice more. My musical advancement came from a combination of things like, learning about my intersecting identities and how that impacts my learning. I started seeing a therapist who I work well with, who understands how I process information and how that impacts my learning. I found the right teacher and become more knowledgeable about my own neurodivergence. Overall, it is about trying to meet our basic needs to go from surviving to thriving. That can be really hard depending on a lot of different levels. It is the unfortunate truth for a lot of marginalized people. It is really traumatizing. I had to figure all this out by myself and some of these realizations just came from being around the right people at the right time.

You have to go through a lot of people. As a Chicana, I cannot stress how hard it is to find the right music teacher (and therapist, etc). It is the best thing you can do for yourself. In my short life thus far, I have gone through over 20 private instructors. There are only a handful I go back too. Every single teacher has taught me something and I will be grateful for their instruction, nevertheless it was imperative that I had a teacher who at the core is about social justice (because that usually comes with cultural fluency). In my experience, musicians and more importantly music educators, generally do not have an understanding of trauma-informed practices. It is a basic understanding on how trauma impacts learning. It can also be how invisible disabilities can impact music learning; a strong cultural awareness; an understanding of body politics and social justice or what community care looks like. Who can blame them when the entire music education system is set up in outdated and Western ideals… I digress… but it is true.

In my desperate hunt for a cure, I found my role in music as a performer and educator. I am panicky, anxious, persistent and a little intense sometimes… but I am also extremely empathetic, bright, kind, and gentle.

All of this is to say, that all the internal and external search has made me the teacher I needed. I am still learning about myself and understanding how my lived experience impacts the way the world will interact with me and the way I interact with it. I am completely okay with this being a lifelong exploration. As of recently, little by little music has become a way for me to process what previously caused me pain.