Pressure Isn’t the Problem
As the Winter Olympics approach in Milan, Italy a familiar question will be heard time and again in interviews with athletes.
Are you nervous?
Elite competitors almost never answer that question directly. Instead, they talk about preparation. About readiness. About trusting the work they have already done. The focus stays forward and grounded in process.
Performers, especially singers, are taught something different. We internalize the question. We scan the body for symptoms. Elevated heart rate. Shallow breath. Restlessness. And then we draw a conclusion.
Something is wrong.
The problem is not nerves.The problem is the story we attach to them.
The Body Doesn’t Know the Difference
Physiologically, the body does not distinguish very well between fear and excitement. Increased adrenaline, heightened focus, faster heartbeat. These are signs of mobilization, not danger. They are what happen when the body prepares to do something that matters.
Athletes preparing for the Olympics expect this state. A skier stepping into the start gate or a speed skater settling at the line is not calm in the way performers often imagine they should be. They are activated, alert, and ready.
Performers, by contrast, are often trained to interpret these sensations as instability. We hear phrases like “calm down,” “relax,” or “try not to be nervous,” and we learn to treat activation as something to suppress rather than use.
That framing alone can sabotage performance.
Once nerves are labeled as a problem, attention turns inward. Monitoring replaces intention. Control replaces communication. The performer is no longer engaging the task in the present. They are managing symptoms.
Reframing the Question Changes the Outcome
A more useful question is rarely asked in these TV and radio interviews.
Are you ready?
Readiness points outward. It connects the moment to preparation rather than emotion. It reminds the performer that this state of activation exists because something meaningful is about to happen, not because something is wrong.
This is why Olympic athletes often describe pressure as a privilege. Not because they are immune to nerves, but because they have learned to interpret them as evidence of investment.
The difference isn’t confidence. It's framing.
Preparation Creates Trust, Not Calm
One of the quiet myths in performance culture is that confidence comes from feeling calm. In reality, confidence comes from familiarity. From having lived inside the work long enough that the body recognizes what is required even when the mind is noisy.
This is why last-minute reassurance rarely helps. You cannot talk someone out of nerves. But you can help them reinterpret what those nerves mean.
“I’m nervous” becomes “I’m activated.”
“I feel out of control” becomes “I’m ready to engage.”
“This feels dangerous” becomes “This matters.”
These shifts are not semantic. They change how attention is deployed in real time.
Athletes preparing for the Olympics are not trying to eliminate nerves. They are training to perform inside them.
The Inner Dialogue Is the Performance
Long before a note is sung or a stage cross is made, the performance is already underway internally. The quality of that inner dialogue often determines the quality of the result.
Negative self-talk does not usually sound dramatic. It sounds practical. Cautious. Reasonable.
“Don’t mess this up.”
“Stay safe and do what you know works.”
“Just get through it.”
But safety language produces small performances. Guarded ones. The body responds accordingly.
A different internal script, one grounded in readiness and intention, allows the performer to meet pressure without shrinking under it.
Pressure Is a Signal, Not a Verdict
Pressure does not predict failure. It signals importance.
The performers who thrive under it are not the ones who feel less. They are the ones who interpret what they feel differently. They have learned that activation is not the enemy. Distraction is.
The goal is not to eliminate nerves.
The goal is to stop arguing with the body when it is doing exactly what it is designed to do.
After the Moment
Reframing does not end when the performance is over.
How a performer reviews a high-pressure moment determines how they will meet the next one. If nerves are blamed afterward, “I was nervous,” the same story is reinforced. If readiness and execution are evaluated instead, pressure becomes part of a longer arc of growth rather than a personal flaw.
This is how resilience is built quietly, over time.
Pressure is not the problem… it is the invitation.
What we do with it is the work.
This essay is part of Studio Notes.
