I’m standing on stage and the music starts. I’m playing my bass notes just right, smiling at the audience. I feel more nervous than usual because I’m singing a duet that I know well but haven’t performed much. My verse is coming up, coming up, coming up and…all of a sudden…my mind goes blank! I’ve sung this song seemingly a million times, I know these words inside and out, but in this moment, when it matters, nothing comes out of my mouth. The audience is grooving along, singing with the song even, and then boom! Silence from me. I keep smiling on the outside, while inside I’m mortified. Thankfully, my bandmates fill in after a few bars, keeping things moving. I immediately beat myself up, thinking “What the hell?! How did that happen?” Then I end up cracking a joke about it before the next song I’m singing on.
I played a lot of piano as a child, including performances, but only recently took up music again as an adult. I started playing upright bass in a band and even singing sometimes, which I never saw coming. Of all the things that trigger my performance anxiety, singing is the biggest monster. Unless I feel really comfortable and in the zone, when that anxiety kicks in, it’s like I suddenly zoom out, start watching and critiquing myself, and then all of my confidence and muscle memory goes out the window.
No matter what we’re doing, when we get anxious, the focus shifts to the anxiety instead of our present activity. Thus, no matter how well-practiced we are, under the stress of performance demand our comfortable routine can suddenly become unavailable exactly when it’s most needed. Musicians and athletes call this phenomenon “performance anxiety,” actresses call it “stage fright,” and sex therapists have our own special term: we call it spectatoring. Spectatoring means spectating one’s own sexual experience from a third person’s perspective.
The same mechanism I described above often occurs when anxiety is present during sex. If you have enough comfort with yourself and your partner (and absent any physical or medical impediments), your sexual responses happen relatively fluidly. Your body and mind are designed to respond to sexual stimuli in a state of relaxation, openness, and safety.
Psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihaly coined the term “flow” for this state of being. Flow is that wonderful state of being totally absorbed in an activity, to the degree that we don’t notice any distractions. Our level of engagement and enjoyment is so high that we might even lose track of time. In a sexual flow state, the combination of physical pleasure and emotional connection can be so intense it feels transcendent.
But in a state of sexual performance anxiety — and, let’s be real, that’s happened to most of us at some point! — nothing at all is flowing. Our bodies lock up and sexual arousal happens slowly, if it all. Perhaps an erection disappears, or an orgasm becomes a frustrating chase. During these times, our thoughts turn negative and pile up on one another in wave after wave of anxiety-provoking appraisals of ourselves and our partners: “Why is this taking so long? What’s wrong with me? Why is this happening AGAIN?! Are you not attracted to me anymore? Am I no longer attracted to you? You’re going to be disappointed. I think I’m just broken.” Clearly, these are not very sexy thoughts.
So, what do we do when sexual performance anxiety strikes?
First, breathe. Breath can be a powerful and immediate path back to grounding in the body.
Second, pause. Sometimes a short break to cuddle and rest can help reset an experience.
Third, engage in some positive and soothing self-talk such as “Slow down,” “Your body is made for this,” or “Focus on one thing that feels good.”
Finally, allow yourself to fantasize. Most people have a trusted go-to fantasy that is almost guaranteed to produce a sexual response. This can be a great way to shift gears out of anxiety and back into a flow of pleasure.
If these strategies don’t help or there’s been an increasing pattern of performance anxiety, try taking the pressure off by making a particular behavior “off limits” temporarily. For example, instead of working overtime to reach orgasm, prohibit orgasm in some sexual encounters and just go back to the basics of pleasurable, “non-demand” touch.
William Masters and Virginia Johnson, the founders of modern sex therapy, developed a technique called sensate focus. Sex therapists still use this tool to help couples relearn sensual touch and take the pressure off of sexual performance. Note that planning for this type of exercise typically involves some coordination and communication, which is best done when you are NOT naked in bed after your frustrating or disappointing experience.
Of course, if the anxiety just keeps getting worse, consider consulting a sex therapist to get some help before a negative feedback loop causes sexual anxiety to get more deeply entrenched. The American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors, and Therapists has a listing of certified professionals: https://www.aasect.org/referral-directory
Now, bringing things back around to music, not surprisingly, I berated myself after my big flub. My bandmates all responded compassionately and reminded me that it happens to everyone, which I then started saying to myself. It helped. Misses are normal, expected even, when playing live music, especially for a newbie like me. There are multiple people and instruments trying to get and stay in sync. The same goes for sex: we are human and sex is complicated. We have feelings, sensations, lived experiences, beliefs, values, and idiosyncrasies — and fitting all of those together involves a lot of moving parts. So give yourself and your partner some grace!
