Student Blog: The Stuff I Do So I Don't Lose My Mind Before Curtain

There is a moment right before I am about to go onstage where I seriously consider pretending I am sick and running out the back door. I don’t, obviously, but the thought crosses my mind every single time. My stomach does flips, my hands get cold, and I suddenly forget how to exist in my own body. You would think that after years of doing theatre, that feeling would go away, but it never really does. Instead, I’ve learned to rely on the little traditions that pull me back together before the lights come up.

The first thing I always do is get to the theatre early. Not because I am the most organized person in the world, but because I need time to mentally prepare myself before the chaos starts. I like being in the space while it’s still quiet, sitting in the dressing room, walking around the performing arts building, flipping through my script, or just letting myself breathe. Something is grounding about seeing the theatre before it fills with people and noise. It reminds me that this place is familiar, that I’ve been here before, and that I can do this again.

One of my favorite traditions comes from high school, and I still miss it all the time. Before every show, my director would start this chant:
“Ooo, I feel so good, like I knew I would. Ooo. I. feel. so good.”
while dancing it out together. There was absolutely no dignity involved. We were loud, sweaty, but it worked. By the time we finished, everyone was smiling, laughing, and ready to go. All of that nervous energy had somewhere to go, instead of sitting in our chests, making us panic.

Coming to Minnesota State University, Mankato, I was worried I would lose those little traditions. New people, new spaces, new everything, it felt like starting over. But what I’ve learned is that theatre people always find a way to recreate that same feeling. Here, we have a different chant, more of a hype circle, where we all build each other up before the show. It’s louder, faster, and probably just as embarrassing as the one from high school, but it gives me that same jolt of confidence. It reminds me that I’m not walking out there alone.

Another tradition that matters to me is intentionally letting people know that you have their back. I don’t just shout it across the room. I actually look people in the eye and say it. Theatre is vulnerable. We’re asking each other to be seen, heard, and judged in front of a room full of strangers. That tiny moment of connection before we go on makes everything feel a little safer.

Every cast I’ve been a part of has had its own version of these rituals. Sometimes it’s a group warm-up that turns into chaos. Sometimes it’s a pep talk that starts serious and somehow ends in tears from laughing too hard. Sometimes it’s just the quiet moment right before places are called, when the whole dressing room shifts and everyone suddenly realizes, oh wow, this is actually happening.

Even in my first college production, Oklahoma!, when everything felt bigger and scarier than it ever had before, those traditions carried me through. Now, rehearsing for our children’s tour, I think they're forming all over again, new warm-ups, new inside jokes, new ways of reminding each other that we’ve got this.

These traditions might look silly from the outside. But to me, they are the reason I keep showing up. They turn nerves into excitement. They turn individuals into a team. They make unfamiliar spaces feel like home.

At the end of the day, theatre isn’t just about what happens onstage. It’s about everything that happens before: the early arrival, the stupid chants, the eye contact, the shared laughter in the dressing room. Those are the moments that remind me why I love this art form so much. And no matter where I go or what show I’m in, I know I’ll keep carrying these little rituals with me, one performance at a time.