Sigma Alpha Iota

MUSICAL MALADY Since the episodes were happening in no-stress situations, I seriously wondered if something was wrong with me physically or mentally. Did I have a neurological problem? Was I going crazy? Would I have to give up my profession? get through very short phrases without taking extra breaths. In spite of my growing performance issues, I continued to perform in musicales, recitals, for schools, and with the Oklahoma Community Orchestra. Sometimes I had a few shaking moments, and other times no problems at all. However, as the shaking episodes became more frequent, I began to worry more about getting through the music. What had once been one of my great joys was rapidly becoming more of a chore. I still wanted to perform, but I didn't want to sound bad and lose opportunities to play. Also, I didn't want to compromise my emotional intensity as a performer by using Beta Blockers, as some performers do. When the shakiness began to occur in rehearsals, I became even more concerned. Why should I be nervous then? Was it just stress? After all, I had a troubled teenager at home and an ailing father out of state. In addition, personal tensions within my quartet were becoming disruptive, and my playing issues were certainly not helping matters. In spite of our differences, we had been capable of polished performances. I enjoyed the literature and the sound of four flutes together, plus I needed the distraction from my family worries. Then the shakiness started occurring while I was teaching. I became quite alarmed, since I have never been nervous in front of my private students. Soon after, I realized that it would even hit while I was practicing with no one present except my cat! Since the episodes were happening in no-stress situations, I seriously wondered if something was wrong with me physically or mentally. Did I have a neurological problem? Was I going crazy? Would I have to give up my profession? By the spring of 2006, I hit a low point. My stress level was extreme: my teenager was in trouble, my father died, the quartet was on the verge of breaking up, and my playing was more inconsistent than ever. I consulted my former teacher and mentor, Philip Swanson, who had taught me to relax when I played. He noted that my embouchure seemed almost too relaxed and suspected that my problem was not tension, but some sort of performance anxiety. One day, I had the opportunity to ask a psychologist friend, Dr. Bill Schmid, about my problem. His response was, "Oh, that sounds like panic attacks. There's nothing wrong with you." "But, what do I do?" I asked. "Nothing," he replied. "You can't fight them. Acknowledge them. Keep a diary and see if you can figure out what you're thinking or feeling just before and during the attacks. We can discuss more strategies later, if needed. Don't expect instant progress." I felt so relieved, because I knew that I could begin to work through this problem. I realized that worrying about the panic attacks was the primary trigger, and it was very obvious that trying to talk myself out of them and fighting against them made them worse. The awful experience at the Dallas NFA convention which had been the start of it all was probably brought on by my feeling that the concert was very important, and that I needed to impress people. But, in fact, the concert was not important and most of the people listening didn't care about me or my ego; they just wanted to be entertained. Since I spoke with Dr. Schmid, I have gradually improved. When I feel the quivering start, I have learned to let go and think, "Oh, I guess I'm nervous. There's the elephant in the room." It's somewhat similar to Harry Potter and his friends battling their "boggarts" in the JK Rowling novels, except there isn't time to make fun of the boggart (or elephant) but rather give it a quick nod and get back to the music. Sometimes it takes several quick nods. Positive thinking and imaging are certainly helpful, but facing the problem and learning to let go of the worry are the keys to freeing oneself of panic attacks. I was very disappointed when my quartet disbanded in 2006, but in retrospect, it was probably for the best. I eventually started a trio with two excellent and very supportive musicians — flutist Matthew Haire and pianist Susan Babcock. Although we have not performed as much as the quartet did, we truly enjoy playing together and are in the process of editing our second CD. Working with this group has been wonderful for me: my breath control has vastly improved, and the joy of making music has come back to me. Now and then, I have a momentary lapse, as I did in 2008 when I performed as soloist on the Doppler "Hungarian Pastorale Fantasy" with the Oklahoma Community Orchestra. I kept my nerves in check until the last few minutes of the piece, when the shaking came back. Fortunately the orchestra was pretty noisy at that point! On the other hand, in spite of feeling nervous in front of such a huge crowd, my performance at the 2009 SAI Triennial Convention was reasonably successful. I also felt the waves of sisterly support which helped me to concentrate on making music. I celebrate each success, and find that they now far outnumber the panic attacks. After all my years of playing, and especially after those difficult ones not long ago, I've finally learned to put my ego aside and stay focused on the music. After all, that's what it's all about! Flutist Dr. Janet Romanishin, Zeta B Province Officer, teaches flute, freelances, performs and records with the Arioso Consort, and is principal flutist in the Oklahoma Community Orchestra. She was initiated into SAI by the Sigma Tau chapter at the University of Southern California, and has been a member of the Phoenix (AZ) Alumnae Chapter and was a charter member of the Norman (OK) Alumnae Chapter. sai-national.org SPRING 2011 PAN PIPES 25

• Cover