Your Mind Your Body

I am not only a psychologist, but also a lady who dabbled in acting before going to graduate school. Recently, I took my charming red-haired daughter to audition at a high profile Chicago theatre for the lead in an original production directed by David Schwimmer. While my daughter has been acting for a few years, this was her first high-stakes audition. I noticed that my anxiety level far exceeded my daughter’s as I drove her to the audition at a downtown Chicago location.

One of the most exciting, yet terrifying experiences as a parent (and maybe even in life), is watching your child take a risk in the pursuit of her dreams—to compete in the real-world. You hold your breath—hoping the praise will come and the criticism will not be too harsh. It’s especially humbling when the parent (i.e. me) is a psychologist and is used to giving other parents “expert” advice about such matters. Even more interesting—when your child chooses to compete in an arena that was your passion. How do you cope and stay within your boundaries at the same time? It’s challenging for anyone.

At the audition, the tension was intense. In the room were a few “stage mothers” (oh dear, I fear I am now “one of them”), a young woman who could not stop moving and talking, a girl who seemed to be crying to herself, and my daughter, who seemed so raw and so brave at the same time. I sat terrified. I realized I needed to practice my own deep breathing advice that I give my patients in such situations—breathe, hold it, release! Girls went into the hallowed audition room and came out, somber-faced, and exited quickly.

Finally, they called my daughter’s name. She left me to go into that world, on her own, for real now. After what seemed like an eternity, the door opened and she came back into the green room, back to me and the real world. I couldn’t tell how she felt yet; I was just glad to have her back. We left quietly. Audition etiquette demands you do not talk about the audition in front of the other actors.

She finally spoke. “I think I did great—David (They are on a first name basis now.) liked my shoes,” she said excitedly. “He thought I was funny.”

I was so relieved and so proud of her as we drove home. I felt like I could finally take a breath.

We found out a few hours later that she didn’t get a callback, and I found myself more disappointed than she. I realized how difficult it was for me, the parent, not the expert now, to cope with the narcissistic letdown. How could these people not realize how talented she is, that she would be fabulous in this role? I thought to myself.

My daughter was more sanguine, more realistic, and in many ways, more grounded. “Maybe they wanted someone older, with more experience. Or maybe I was not right for the role. There’s always a next time.”

I was in awe of her and remain so proud. At her age,  I could never have faced such rejection. As her parent, she taught me much that day about the power of resilience, the ability to bounce back from disappointment and to keep on going. David Schwimmer, eat your heart out!

Filed under: Children, Parenting, Uncategorized, Work/Life