Therapist Draper Guide to Calming Performance Anxiety

Performance anxiety can be calmed, not erased, by a mix of mental practice, body awareness, and small changes to how you rehearse and perform. You do not need to be a different person. You need a different process. Many musicians work through this with a trusted teacher or a Therapist Draper, but you can begin on your own, at your piano, today.

I am going to focus on performance anxiety around music, especially piano, because that is probably why you are reading this. But most of what I describe will also fit auditions, juries, public speaking, and even work presentations. The details change. The nerves feel surprisingly similar.

You might not agree with everything here. That is fine. Performance is personal. Take what fits. Leave what does not. Question it all.

What performance anxiety actually is (and what it is not)

A lot of people talk about performance anxiety as if it is a personality flaw. It is not. It is a nervous system response to perceived threat.

You are not in danger when you sit at the piano in a recital hall. Still, your body acts as if you are. Your heart speeds up, your hands sweat, your breathing shifts, your thoughts race. The body thinks: “Something big is at stake.”

For musicians, the “threat” is usually not physical. It is social.

You might recognize some of these thoughts:

“If I mess up this recital, people will think I am not talented.”
“If I forget the left hand in that Chopin passage, the whole piece is ruined.”
“Everyone is judging my technique, my sound, my memory.”
“Other students do not get this scared, so something is wrong with me.”

Those thoughts push your body into a fight, flight, or freeze state. Then your body sensations feed the thoughts again. It is a loop.

Performance anxiety is not you being weak. It is your nervous system getting confused about what is dangerous and what is not.

This is good news, in a way. If anxiety is a learned body response, it can be retrained. Not quickly. Not with one trick. But step by step.

Before we talk about tools, it helps to know the main pieces that create the problem.

Three main roots of performance anxiety

For most musicians I see, performance anxiety tends to grow from three areas that overlap:

Perfectionism and harsh self-criticism
Nervous system sensitivity
Unhelpful practice and performance habits

I will go through each one, with piano examples, so it feels less abstract.

1. Perfectionism and harsh self-criticism

Perfectionism is tricky. It feels like it helps. It pushes you to practice more, to fix that tricky scale, to repeat the middle of the Beethoven sonata until each note lines up. You may even be proud of that.

The problem is not high standards. The problem is the way you talk to yourself when you miss those standards.

If your inner voice sounds like this:

“I cannot believe I missed that chord. I am such a disaster.”
“Real pianists do not get nervous like this.”
“If I need the music, I am not a serious musician.”

then your brain learns to associate playing for others with shame. Shame is fuel for anxiety.

You might say, “But being tough on myself is what got me this far.” I do not fully agree. You probably got this far because you practiced, you listened, you cared about sound and phrasing, and you showed up. The harshness came along for the ride. It is not the main driver of your progress.

You can keep your high musical standards and drop the self-insults. You do not need cruelty to grow as an artist.

We will get to how to do that in a bit.

2. Nervous system sensitivity

Some people are simply more sensitive to body sensations. A small increase in heart rate feels huge. A bit of shaking in the hands feels like an earthquake.

If you are sensitive in this way, you might notice:

Caffeine hits you hard.
Loud rooms or bright lights feel draining.
You replay social moments in your head at night.
You feel emotions strongly, in both good and bad directions.

There is nothing wrong with that. But if you are not used to these body shifts, they can scare you. Then you become anxious about feeling anxious. That second layer is often worse than the first.

In performance, this can sound like:

“I feel my heart pounding. This means I am about to fall apart.”

That belief can push you out of the piece in front of you and into a spiral in your head. Your fingers keep moving, but your mind is not really in the sound anymore.

Working with this kind of sensitivity is less about becoming “tough” and more about getting familiar with your own signals. Almost like you are learning a new instrument, just inside your skin.

3. Unhelpful practice and performance habits

This part is rarely talked about in depth, but it matters a lot.

Many pianists practice in a way that almost guarantees anxiety on stage. For example:

Always practicing in comfortable clothes, alone, on the same piano.
Playing a piece from start to finish, over and over, waiting for a “perfect run.”
Stopping whenever something feels slightly off, then starting again from the top.
Never practicing walking onto the bench, bowing, or sitting with silence before playing.

Then, on performance day, everything is different. New hall, new piano, different bench height, people watching, maybe video recording. Your body has never rehearsed under these conditions. Of course it reacts.

You may think: “But I know the piece. I can play it in my sleep.”

That is part of the issue. You know it in one narrow context: your regular practice situation. Your nervous system has not practiced handling the pressure part.

So your first “real” run under stress is the actual concert. That is a lot to ask.

Common signs of performance anxiety in musicians

Performance anxiety does not always look like shaking hands and panic attacks. Sometimes it is more subtle.

Here is a simple table that shows body, thinking, and behavior signs that come up often in piano students and working musicians.

Area	Common signs	How it shows up at the piano
Body	Racing heart, sweaty hands, tight shoulders, shallow breathing, nausea	Finger slips, missed octaves, stiff wrists, rushing tempo, fatigue after playing
Thinking	“What if I mess up?”, “They will notice every mistake”, “I am not ready”	Harder to remember entrances, blank moments, losing your place in the score
Behavior	Over-practicing, avoiding recitals, constant last-minute changes, apologizing	Backing out of performances, hiding behind the music stand, not taking musical risks

If some of these feel familiar, you are not alone. Most serious musicians will see themselves somewhere here, even the ones who look very calm from the audience.

Why piano and performance anxiety often travel together

Piano has a few traits that make anxiety more likely:

You are exposed. Unlike in an orchestra, there is no section to blend into.
Repertoire is often memory based. That adds pressure.
The instrument is large and physical. Small tension in the body spreads fast.
There is a long tradition of hero worship around “piano geniuses,” which can make ordinary mistakes feel terrible.

Also, many piano students start young. If you had a parent, teacher, or examiner who shamed you for mistakes, that can sit in your body for years. You might not even remember the exact phrases anymore. The feeling of “I must not fail” stays.

I have seen talented students say, “I just want to enjoy music again,” with real confusion in their eyes, as if joy is a thing from childhood. It is not gone. It is just hiding under layers of pressure.

You will not fix all of that with one breathing exercise. But you can start to adjust things piece by piece.

What actually helps: a layered approach

Think of calming performance anxiety as working with three layers at the same time:

Your body and nervous system
Your thoughts and expectations
Your practice and performance routines

If you work on only one layer, you will probably see some change, but it may not last. When you address all three, the progress tends to hold better.

Let us walk through each layer with clear steps you can try at your piano.

Layer 1: Calming your body without shutting it down

The goal here is not to feel nothing. A completely flat state can hurt your playing. You want a steady, awake kind of energy.

Think of it as moving from “alarmed” to “alert.”

Here are some simple tools. They are basic on purpose. Complex tricks are hard to remember when you are nervous.

1. Breath that supports your playing

Deep breathing is often suggested, but many musicians do it in a way that actually increases tension. They yank in air, hold it, then push it out.

Try this instead, at your piano:

Sit at the bench. Place your hands lightly on your thighs. Do not close your eyes if that feels strange.
Inhale slowly through your nose for a count of 3. Let your ribs move a little, not just your chest.
Exhale softly through your mouth for a count of 5. No force. Just a slow release.
Pause one second with empty lungs, then repeat 5 to 8 times.

The slightly longer exhale tells your nervous system: “We are not in danger right now.”

You can use this before you walk on stage, but also during practice. For example, after a hard passage, stop and do two breath cycles before you repeat it. That way, your body learns to pair effort with recovery, not with panic.

2. Grounding through contact points

When anxiety spikes, your awareness often leaves your body and jumps into your head. Grounding is a way to bring it back.

At the piano, try this short routine:

Notice your feet. Feel the floor or pedals under your soles.
Notice your sit bones on the bench.
Notice your fingers touching the keys without playing yet.
Say quietly in your mind: “Floor, bench, keys.” Repeat once or twice.

It sounds almost too simple. Still, I have seen many players surprised by how much this small check-in helps focus their mind.

When you reconnect with physical support points, your body remembers that you are not just a floating mind full of “what if” thoughts.

You can even work this into your performance. Before your first chord or note, give yourself one second to feel these three contact points. The audience will not notice the delay. Your playing might feel very different.

3. Letting some energy stay

Some people aim to get completely calm before they perform. They want no shaking, no rush, no butterflies. This can backfire.

If you push too hard for total calm, any small spark of energy feels like failure, which then increases anxiety again.

I would suggest a different target: allow some activation, but keep it under a certain level. If zero is asleep and ten is a panic attack, you want to hover around a four to six on stage. Enough energy to be vivid. Not so much that your hands lock.

You can even check in with yourself before a run-through:

“Right now, from 0 to 10, where am I?”

If the answer is 7 or above, do some breathing and grounding. If it is 2 or 3, gently move your body a bit. Shake out your arms, walk a bit, or play some strong chords. You are trying to find your own “performance zone,” not someone else’s.

Layer 2: Working with thoughts without forcing fake positivity

You cannot control every thought that appears. Trying to push away all negative thoughts tends to make them louder. What you can change is the way you respond to them.

Here are some tools that are realistic, not “just think happy thoughts” advice.

1. Naming the story, not fusing with it

Before a performance or jury, your mind might say:

“I will probably forget the middle section.”

Instead of arguing with that, try adding three words:

“I am having the thought that I will probably forget the middle section.”

It sounds strange, but it does two useful things:

It reminds you this is a thought, not a fact.
It gives you a tiny bit of space to decide what to do next.

From that space, you might choose to run through the middle section once, then move on, instead of looping it twenty times in panic. Or you might remind yourself: “I have played it correctly dozens of times. Some risk is normal.”

Over time, you can learn your common “stories.” Things like:

“If I am nervous, it will go badly.”
“One mistake ruins the whole performance.”
“Everyone will see I do not belong here.”

You do not need to crush these stories. Not even fully replace them. It can be enough to notice them and say, “That is the perfectionism story again,” and then return to the music.

2. Rewriting perfectionist rules

Many anxious performers live by very rigid, often hidden rules. For example:

“I must never show nerves.”
“I must always memorize difficult pieces.”
“I must practice at least X hours per day or I am lazy.”

These rules may have helped you once. They might now be hurting you.

Try this small exercise on paper:

Write down 3 “must” or “never” rules you have about performing or practicing.
Next to each, write a softer version that still respects your standards.

For example:

Old rule	Softer, realistic version
“I must never show nerves”	“I prefer to look calm, but nerves are normal and I can play well even when I feel them.”
“One memory slip ruins the whole piece”	“A memory slip is annoying, but I can usually recover and keep making music.”
“If I do not practice 4 hours every day, I am not serious”	“Focused practice really matters, but quality and rest affect my playing too.”

You might think this sounds like lowering standards. I disagree. High standards can include flexibility. In fact, rigid rules often block musical growth because they keep you stuck in fear of breaking them.

3. Shifting focus from judgment to curiosity

This is one of the most powerful mental changes for many musicians. Instead of going into a performance thinking:

“I must prove I am good enough,”

try this frame:

“I am curious how my preparation holds up in this space, with these people, on this piano.”

Curiosity takes the focus off your worth as a person and back onto the process. Of course, you still care about quality. You are not pretending you do not care. You are simply letting go of the idea that this single performance decides your fate.

If you want to make this concrete, after each performance or run-through, ask yourself three specific questions:

What went better than last time?
What felt shaky, and what might help that section next time?
What did I learn about performing today?

Work to answer those without calling yourself names. You can be direct without being cruel.

Your brain learns faster from interested, honest feedback than from harsh, global judgment.

Layer 3: Changing how you practice and perform

This is where many musicians quietly know they need to adjust things, but they postpone it. They keep practicing more of the same and hope the anxiety will suddenly drop one day. It rarely works that way.

You do not need a complete overhaul, but some targeted changes in practice can significantly lower anxiety over time.

1. Practice performing, not just playing

Most practice focuses on notes, rhythm, and technique. You need that. Still, performing is a separate skill.

Here are a few ways to add performance practice into your week:

Run-through day: Once or twice per week, choose a piece and play it as if in performance. No stopping for mistakes. If you slip, keep going.
Small audience: Ask one person to listen. A roommate, family member, or online friend on a video call. Annoying as it may be, it changes your body response and helps you rehearse that.
Record yourself: Hit record on your phone and place it where you almost forget about it. Knowing you are recorded can mimic pressure.

After each run, resist the urge to say, “That was awful.” Instead, use the three questions from before: what was better, what was shaky, what did I learn.

If you are thinking, “I do not want people to hear me until it is perfect,” that is exactly the mindset that keeps anxiety high. The earlier you let people hear your “not finished” versions, the more your nervous system learns that being heard while imperfect is survivable.

2. Vary the conditions on purpose

To reduce anxiety, you want your brain to learn that you can play under many conditions, not just one ideal one.

Some simple variations:

Practice at slightly different tempos, especially slower than performance tempo.
Adjust the bench height by a small amount and notice how your body adapts.
Change the lighting in the room or play at different times of day.
Play parts of the piece starting from different spots, not always the beginning.

At first, this can feel strange or even frustrating. You might think, “I am making it harder for no reason.” The reason is this: the more your brain sees “different” as manageable, the less it freaks out when the recital piano feels heavier or the hall is colder.

3. Practice recovery, not just perfection

In real performances, what separates experienced players from anxious ones is often not who avoids mistakes. It is who recovers quickly.

You can train this.

Some ideas:

Ask a trusted friend or teacher to randomly call “stop” while you play. When they say “go,” you must jump back in within a bar or two.
Practice the “danger spots” where you often slip, but start from one bar before and finish one bar after, so you train transitions.
Intentionally create a small “mistake” in practice, like skipping a note, and then force yourself to keep going, not restart.

This feels strange, I know. Many players are almost superstitious about not “practicing mistakes.” But you are not practicing errors here. You are practicing resilience. That skill often brings more calm on stage than an extra hour of note-perfect drilling.

4. Simple pre-performance routine

A short, repeatable routine before you play tells your body, “We have been here before. We know how to do this.”

It does not have to be elaborate. In fact, simpler is better. Here is an example you can adjust:

Two slow breaths with long exhales.
Check “floor, bench, keys” with your attention.
Think one clear musical intention for the first phrase. For example: “Sing the top line,” or “Keep left hand steady.”
Look at your hands, then at the keys, then let your gaze soften.
Play.

If you repeat a short sequence like this before run-throughs and real concerts, your nervous system will begin to associate it with “we are about to perform, and we can handle that.”

When professional help makes sense

Some performance anxiety can be handled with self-guided strategies, support from teachers, and gradual exposure to performing. Other times, it is so intense that it affects not only your music but your daily life, sleep, appetite, or mood.

Here are signs that working with a therapist who understands performance anxiety might be wise:

You start to avoid opportunities that you actually want, like auditions or competitions.
You have panic attacks, or feel close to one, around performances.
Anxiety leads to long periods of low mood or hopeless thoughts.
Old critical voices from parents, teachers, or past experiences feel very present when you play.

In that case, you do not need to “try harder” alone. A therapist with experience in anxiety, and ideally with performers, can help you untangle old patterns and build new ones in a more structured way.

Some people worry that talking to a therapist means admitting they “cannot handle it.” I do not see it that way. Music training gives you tools for discipline, repetition, and attention. Therapy gives you tools for working with your inner life in a less punishing way. Those two skill sets can support each other.

I should also say this: some therapists do not understand the intensity of musical training or the culture of conservatories and studios. If you feel misunderstood, you are allowed to look for someone else. Not every match works.

How teachers, parents, and peers can help (or hurt)

Your environment plays a big role in performance anxiety. You might be doing good inner work, but if your teacher or family constantly adds pressure, it is an uphill climb.

Here are a few patterns that tend to increase anxiety:

Only praising note-perfect performances, ignoring musical risk or growth.
Comparing students to each other, especially in front of the group.
Focusing on “talent” as something fixed, rather than on effort and process.
Using shame to push practice, like “you should be ashamed of that run-through.”

If you recognize these in your own training, it might explain some of your anxiety. That does not mean your teacher or parent is a bad person. Many of them simply repeat what they were taught. Still, you are allowed to question the style.

Supportive patterns look different. For example:

Giving specific feedback like “that voicing in bar 12 was clearer today” instead of “good job” or “that was bad.”
Framing recitals as snapshots of progress, not final verdicts.
Encouraging students to prepare mentally and physically, not only technically.
Allowing some humor and humanity around mistakes.

If you are a teacher reading this, you might ask yourself: “What tone do my students hear in their heads when they practice alone, and how much of that sounds like me?”

If you are a student, consider gently telling your teacher how performance anxiety affects you. I know that can feel risky. Some teachers respond well, some do not. But if you never say anything, they may not realize how deeply their words land.

Small, realistic experiments to try this month

If you are like many musicians, you may read a long article and then think, “Yes, that makes sense,” but change very little in practice. That is normal. Change is work.

To make this real, pick one or two experiments. Not ten. Two is plenty to start.

Here are a few choices:

Before each practice session this week, do 5 breath cycles with longer exhales.
Choose one piece for a full, no-stopping run-through twice a week, accepting any mistakes as part of the run.
Write down three “performance rules” you hold, and rewrite them in softer, more realistic language.
Ask one friend to listen to you play once this month, and treat it as a low-stakes performance.
Build a 3-step pre-performance routine and use it before every run-through for two weeks.

You might think, “This is too little, it cannot change such a big problem.” In my experience, small, consistent changes are the ones that shift long term patterns. Grand, intense efforts often burn out fast.

Questions musicians often ask about performance anxiety

Is it possible to get rid of performance anxiety completely?

Probably not, and that is not a failure. Most performers, even famous ones, still feel some nerves. The realistic aim is to move from crippling anxiety to manageable activation. You want enough energy to care and be alive in the music, without feeling overwhelmed.

Instead of asking, “How do I get rid of this?” you might ask, “How do I carry this in a way that still lets me play well and live my life?”

Will medication fix my performance anxiety?

Medication can help some people, especially if anxiety is part of a broader pattern that affects sleep, appetite, mood, or daily function. Beta blockers, for instance, can reduce some physical symptoms like shaking.

But medication by itself does not teach you how to work with perfectionism, shame, or unhelpful practice habits. It usually works best as one piece of a wider plan, not as the only tool. Any choice here needs a conversation with a medical professional who knows your health history.

If your anxiety feels mild to moderate and is mostly around performances, non-medication tools are a good starting point. If it feels severe or spreads to other areas of life, it can be wise to bring in medical support and therapy.

What if my teacher thinks I am making excuses?

This is a hard one. Some teachers are skeptical when students mention anxiety, because they worry it is a way to avoid hard work. Anxiety can, in some cases, be used as a shield. But for many students, it is a real barrier.

You can try to talk in concrete terms, which tends to be more convincing:

Describe what happens in your body when you perform.
Share specific examples of memory slips or hand tension.
Explain one or two steps you are taking to work on it, so it is clear you are not just complaining.

If your teacher still dismisses you, you might be facing a deeper mismatch in teaching style. That is not your fault. You might need a second opinion from another teacher, mentor, or therapist to sort out your options.

You deserve to grow as a musician without being crushed by anxiety. That does not mean you get a free pass from challenge. It means that challenge should shape you, not break you.