Last week, I was in the middle of a warm, luxurious writing session at my boyfriend’s place in the Vermont countryside, when I got a call from my mom.

“Are you going to take the audition?” Her question crept into my neck and shoulders like the first winter freeze, tightening everything that was soft just a moment ago.

Are!You!Going!To!Take!The!AUDITION?????

Every word an air-borne brick, assaulting the unprotected sanctuary of my home—the final one smashing through the window.

!!!?!??!!?!!?ARE YOU GOING TO TAKE THE AUDITIONNNNNNN!?!!???!?!?!!?

A nordic witch, screaming; cackling.

Not my mom! Just, you know, the #vibe in my psyche.

I hadn’t seen or heard or read the A-word in months, but I knew immediately what she must be referencing. It could only mean one thing.

The Montreal Symphony has scheduled another violin audition.

These are historically the most dreaded events of my life—the moment at which my job as “just a sub,” is once again at stake.

At this point, I’ve done 9? 10? auditions for the orchestra that I HAVE ALREADY BEEN PLAYING FULL-TIME WITH FOR TEN (minus the pandemic) YEARS. Those of you who read part 1 of The Trouble With Auditions—my post from 2 auditions/years ago—may remember why this is the case.

(TLDR: Sensitive musicians make great orchestral players; the audition system is the worst possible environment for sensitive musicians; I’m sensitive AF.)

A lot has changed though, since I wrote that piece. I believe by the end of it, I wrote something along the lines of “But I will keep jumping through these wacky ol’ audition hoops if it means I get to keep doing what I love, with the people I love!” *Bugs-Bunny-dressed-in-drag eyelash bat*

Two years later: I am considering taking those very hoops and launching them from my twirling limbs in a rage-tantrum at the mall; let alone jumping through them.

When the last audition was announced around a year ago, I noticed an incredible amount of anger coming up in my body every time I started to practice my tattered old list of OSM violin excerpts. So I tried something I’ve never tried before:

If I didn’t feel like practicing, I didn’t.

I vowed to never force it.

You know how much I practiced for that audition?

1 week.

How did I do?

Not well.

After 9 years of sitting pretty at the top of the sub-list, 2nd call at worst, I finally fell—and HARD. Almost every other regular sub kicked ass at the audition and proceeded to step over my flabby, pathetic body on their way to the top, leaving me behind only to be called for the large-orchestra programs; or the ones nobody else wants to do. (Privilege check: that’s still a good amount of work.)

The thing is, I kindof wanted this. I have known for quite some time that the life of a classical musician is not for me, and I knew that in order to figure out what actually IS for me, I’d need to take a significant amount of time off. Time to rest and recover from burn-out; time to grieve and process the loss of this old identity; and just as importantly, time to dream about where I’m headed.

This may sound delusional to some readers, but in order to create this precious time, I decided it would be much easier to get called 25-50% less often and say YES to 50-75% of the gig offers; than to be called every week and have to say NO 50-75% of the time. Don’t check that math.

All that to say, I willingly dropped down on the sub-list.

That doesn’t mean it didn’t feel shitty! Oh my ego hated how it felt to fall down the list, looked at with varying degrees of pity, awkwardness, and superiority* by colleagues; if not avoided altogether.

*one colleague in particular has perfected this look

My ego hated how it felt on audition day, marching into battle completely naked. The opposing force being of course not my tired, unimpressed colleagues behind the screen; not the gaggles of hotshot 22-year olds frothing at the mouth for a job fresh out of school; but my own damn mind—unprotected by the armor of consistent, methodical practice.

You know what felt really, fucking GOOD though???

Actually listening to myself for once. That bright, colorful child inside of me felt OVER the MOON that nobody was forcing her to do something she didn’t want to do. Nobody was forcing her to engage in the incredibly stressful and dehumanizing act of competing against her own stand-partners—all the other sweet, talented regular subs—for a job we already do. A job many of us have come to rely on to support our families.

I spent all the time I would have normally been banging my head against the wall playing the same measure of Don Juan over, and over, and over… just… enjoying my life.

How crazy, that allowing ourselves such a thing could feel REBELLIOUS.

So here I am, trying to figure out the answer to my mom’s question.

Am I going to take the audition?

Do I want to?

No.

This much, after years of learning how to decipher the wordless language of my body, is clear.

Depression. Anxiety. Burnout. An over-arching sense of disconnection from those around me. The sensation that everything is in black and white, when it’s supposed to be as colorful as a rainbow. These are the messages my body sends when something is not right. I am on the wrong path. I am dating the wrong person. I am pursuing the wrong career.

But today, I find myself in this bizarre place. I know where I’m headed—to a beautiful community surrounded by nature where I write and coach people through the very struggles I have overcome in my own life—but I’m not quite there yet. Oh I’m so close… but it’ll be a while yet until I can let go of my Montreal apartment, make a home in Vermont, finish building my coaching business, and hack the social media algorithm that is seemingly required to find a steady stream of clients.

My mom’s advice, which she probably won’t be happy with my sharing here, was “Just show up and do the bare minimum, like last time.” This tickles me, being a complete 180 from what she used to drill into my head before dragging me to all the high-stress performances of my childhood.

What my mom is worried about, is that I will fall off the sub-list entirely, and starve to death. She knows that in order to keep getting hired in this orchestra, you have to show up and play every audition. Have I fantasized about just “showing up” and playing all the excerpts on a kazoo? Oh hell yes, among many other more questionable things that I won’t share at this moment.

Thing is, if I do show up, I do not want to do the bare minimum again, because that felt awful. It’s disrespectful to the craft, and it’s disrespectful to myself. And maybe to the committee. Though, they’re being paid for their time—and honestly most of them agree that the whole system is fucked.

If they had to re-audition for their own jobs every single year, they might have a bit more compassion for a long-time sub who shows up and plays the Schumann scherzo with the firey passion of an expired Dorito.

So how do I respect 1. the craft, 2. my ego integrity as a musician, 3. the part of me that needs to pay my rent in Montreal for a while longer AND, 4. the bright colorful part of myself who is whispering, “Don’t do it! This is not what you’re meant to do!”

??

Well, I take the audition.

And I really practice for it.

But.

I use the audition as fuel for what I truly love. I use it to inspire my writing. I observe anything that comes up—any anger, any frustration, any absurdity, any fleeting moments of joy—and I fill a book with it.

I take the anger and frustration from feeling so disposable, useless, and unseen—and I alchemize it into a coaching practice that is the antidote to feeling disposable, useless, and unseen.

I use the audition to help me imagine new ways of guiding clients through the trenches of doing what they’ve been trained to do, and into the oasis of what they want to do.

This—is how I negotiate with that bright, colorful part of myself in a way that doesn’t just completely snuff out her flame. A flame that has been put out by so many people in the past who were compensating for their own lack of fire. A flame I’ve been smothering unconsciously every time I choose someone else’s idea of success over my own.

No I’m very done with that.

I’ve got a ways to go until I get to the place I can see in my dreams—but it’s okay.

I’m already free.

***

Do things ever feel kindof dull and lifeless, like you’re inside of a black & white film?

Do you feel depressed, anxious, bitter, exhausted, lonely, or disconnected on a fairly regular basis?

Do you ever have thoughts like, “Is this all there is?” “There is something wrong with me.” “I should be happier than this.” “I’m all alone.” “I’ll never find something better than this, so I can’t leave.”

If you’re ready to stop feeling miserable, I’ve got you. Head on over to my coaching page for more info; or click below to book a free introductory coaching session.

It would be my honor to help you Unfuck Your Life!