Not “Are You Afraid of the Dark Part 3”?!
Don’t worry. There will be more installments. I need some more time to feel ready to share more chapters of my life (that part at least). I appreciate your patience, friends.
The Perfectionist
My parents love telling me the story about how I learned to ride a bike as a child. I watched and watched and watched my big sister. I took note of the moments she would tumble, and took even more thorough notes of her success. When I finally thought I could get on a bike and not fail at it, I hopped on. And I did it “perfectly,” because I had to. Because my mind told me I needed to.
There’s a part of me that wonders where it all started. Perhaps it was the methodical approach in classical piano lessons at age 5…or the meticulous nature of learning the viola at age 7…or always wanting (actually, needing) to be a straight “A” student.
One thing I wasn’t a perfectionist at was being social. I was definitely a loner kid - trying to climb to the next level in every part of life, while also seeing spirits everywhere (just a little tease for another installment of “Are You Afraid of the Dark?”).
I had some OCD tendencies as well. The most prominent one was when I was dealing with numbers. If I was watching TV, the volume level had to be an even number or a multiple of 5 (bizarre - I know). I loved dong the dishes and laundry (my mom trained us at an early age). Anything that involved cleaning and tidiness worked well with my constant need for perfection.
The road to finding my voice
My parents are both retired high school choir directors (my mom was still teaching full time when I was a child). They have been church choir directors for many years. My mom is a coloratura opera singer and did extensive training in her craft, including studies at the Hindemith school in Switzerland. My dad has directed civic choirs and orchestras my entire life. They’ve both directed countless musicals.
This is all to say - they know what they’re talking about when it comes to singing.
So, being a singer wasn’t something I was terribly interested in. I found great comfort in connecting with my parents through music as an instrumentalist: still living in the same musical world but doing different disciplines within it. It’s been a special bond that we’ve had most of my life.
The truth is that I was afraid I’d never live up to my own standards when it came to singing (or theirs - not that they put that pressure on me). Instead, I found a way to express myself through piano and viola, and later came the violin, along with several other instruments.
But even as an instrumentalist, there were times when I had crippling stage fright. I was overwhelmed with the desire to never mess up - to play things exactly as they should be (whatever that means). It took me many years to not have my bow shake while all eyes were on me. Thankfully, touring with Barrage helped kick away that performance fear (we were playing sold out theaters around the world).
When I decided to step into the improvising world a handful of years ago, I was terrified. This was a whole new ball game. I hoped that all of the many childhood years of listening to jazz standards would help guide my way. I had to trust that what I had to offer would shine through in a positive light, and that my classical training wouldn’t keep me in a perfectionist box…and that I wouldn’t prevent myself from taking chances…from finding my voice.
Fa la la
When the pandemic hit, I felt completely lost (I’m sure many of you understand). I started doing the hard work - the real work. I began writing my own songs, and working through past traumas and lost loves. I did a tremendous amount of reflection and found my way back to the piano, and made my way to a guitar that had been lonesome in my loft.
And I started to sing again…for the first time in many, many years.
It couldn’t have felt more different, though, than singing Italian songs and arias at state solo and ensemble. There were no parameters or expectations for what I should sound like when singing my own songs. It was terrifying and cathartic all at the same time. I went from never wanting to sing to never wanting to stop.
Singing with my Weary Ramblers partner, Chad Elliott, has been the best possible situation for finding my voice. It saddens me to think about not using my given instrument now.
Because I truly love to sing. And I’m so lucky to do what I love every day.
Sharing Time
I’d like to share an unreleased song of mine with all of you, titled “Let ‘em Go.” It dives into the anxieties I’ve had throughout my life while battling perfectionism. Sending love to all of you fellow perfectionists and anxiety filled folks.
I can’t wait to share the back story to more of my songs with all of you, as well as my journey in music and life. Until next time.
See you in a week
If you’re reading this, thank you. I’m honored. And I can’t wait to continue on this journey via Substack with all of you! We’ll see what next Sunday brings.
To learn more about myself, follow my show schedule and hear my music: Kathryn Severing Fox's website
Photo by Jeff Nelson
I must confess that to me, your writing interweaves with the musical muses which channel through you. Stream side sitting therapies, which slows my urgencies down to more comforting levels. Can’t explain why. But, please just keep the artistry flowing along okay? And, whoever says you’re not smiling enough must not be feeling enough.
Love this song and your story about perfectionism. I get it!