Constance H.

If you’re reading this, do it scared.

I know it's easier to say this phrase than to make it a reality. But, like many Seniors in college, my career goals have changed completely since I started. When I initially applied to Clemson, I was accepted as a Psychology major and thought I'd leave here with a bachelor's degree in Psychology, acceptances to grad schools, and a path to becoming a doctor and ultimately having my own practice. 

Little did I know that a small piece of advice would push me, in my first year, to follow my passions rather than succumb to the pressure of practicality. It was the night before move-in day. I was full of nerves, excitement, and anticipation as I prepared to leave and start a new life away from home. When my mom stood in her doorway and told me after saying she was so proud of me… "Constance, I know you enjoy Psychology, but I would still love to see you on the stage." That one sentence, of course, made me begin to spiral. Not only was it because it was the night before I was leaving for college, but it also held a lot of truth. 

I knew my mom wasn't saying that for no reason, being that all my life I've been a performer. Being in choirs since I was 8 years old, I have always loved musical theatre and singing. At that moment, I tried to brush it off because I could only handle one stressor at a time, but in my first week of college, I couldn't shake the thought. Coming into Clemson, I was aware of the musical opportunities available to me because I had auditioned for the CU Singers choir the summer prior and gotten in. The thought of changing my major so soon made me feel like I was giving up or not fully immersing myself in the Psychology program. I prayed on the decision until one night I was woken out of my sleep with the overwhelming feeling of needing to change my major. I went to my desk, grabbed my laptop and made the major change. 

I had no clue what Clemson had to offer to me musically, because I figured that as long as I was perfecting my craft, something had to work out. Upon the change, I emailed to schedule a meeting with the Music director, and we discussed my musical background and experience. Within the next week, I made an appointment to audition for the music program. I had no classical music material, a requirement for the audition, but my history in school choir and the fact that I was already in CU singers pulled through for me. I was able to audition with two musical theatre songs, and I remember practicing until my throat was tired. The day of my audition, I was so nervous, and I couldn't stop shaking. I was sure that I'd be fine because I practiced over and over again. I still remember singing and trying not to fall over. 

Within the next week, I will be accepted as a Performing Arts music major with an emphasis in voice. I didn't know why at the time, but that decision made me feel like an entirely different person. I was so overjoyed to be studying a subject I loved. When I changed my major, I also changed my minor and chose theatre because I knew I wanted to pursue all aspects of performing. And as much love as I have for music, I wasn't prepared for the vulnerability that would come from it. Since becoming a Performing Arts major here at Clemson, I have grown tremendously as a vocalist and artist. 

You'd think that after all these years of being on stage, I'd be okay singing alone. But that was quite the contrary. In my Vocal seminar class, a performance-based class that lets us musicians showcase the songs we've been working on. During my first performance, I tried singing even though I didn't have a full voice, and when I got up to sing, my voice felt hoarse and tired, and I got so overwhelmed that I started crying profusely. I was so embarrassed and terrified that I was somehow letting down my professors and peers by not completing the performance. But, instead of judgment and ridicule, I was met with nothing but positivity and encouragement. This vulnerable experience was a learning moment for me to put my health and myself first, and, looking back, I'm glad I didn't let shame stop me. Instead, I learned to try again, I performed the next week, and though not perfect, I was proud that I pulled through. 

Oftentimes, I'm still afraid when I get on stage, but through my years of training, practice, and wonderful performance opportunities, I've gained the skills to understand my craft better. Through eight semesters of choir, three semesters in TakeNote, and now working on my vocal senior lecture recital as well as working on personal music, I couldn't imagine my college undergraduate career not being fully immersed in the art of music. I did not allow that one embarrassing experience to stop me from continuing my musical career. I didn't know what Clemson had to offer. 

I didn't expect to make a major career change and go for my dreams, but I wouldn't change my decision for the world. I took a chance with no clear plan, but with faith and the knowledge that I was going for something I loved. 

I know it's hard to not let fear control our decisions, and fear isn't inherently bad. Fear has protected us for generations, but it isn't always necessary. What happens if you let go of the ideologies that make you scared?  The fear of social perception, the fear of failure, the fear of living. What happens if you let fear take the back seat and live fearlessly? What would you go for, what would you say differently, what could you accomplish? Behind our fears could be the future of your dreams.

So I challenge you, the next time that fear tries to take control, try doing it scared. You may surprise yourself. 

Constance H., Clemson University

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