"The Show Must Go On" and Perfectionism

Self-Reflection is Critical

Source: Peter Andrew Danzig, LSW, CTP

As a psychotherapist, I often work with artists and creatives, many of whom have had long careers in the arts. I’d like to think my clinical skills and lived experience meet somewhere in the middle during treatment, as I worked in theater arts for 20 years with a master’s degree in scholarly application in acting. I recall an early college professor stating, “This is a hard career, and if you want to do anything else, you should do that instead” left my stomach in knots, noting years of voice, dance, and acting lessons and auditions for elite theater arts programs. When we tie this message to the infamous anecdote “the show must go on,” we are left with an impossible task: either follow your dreams or suffer for them. If the show must go on, then where do positive self-regard, mental health, boundaries, and realistic expectations come into play? For many, they don’t, leaving our theater kids crumbling from learned behaviors surrounding perfectionism and loose boundaries. They learn early on that there is a greater entity in their work than themselves, and they carry that into adulthood.

My client is sitting in his room, our telehealth appointment showcasing his extensive Broadway memorabilia and an affinity for Barbara Streisand. I can’t say I don’t share in his fandom, she’s spectacular. We’re working on CBT efforts surrounding perfectionism and I ask, “Where do you recall feeling this need to be perfect?” He immediately states, “Since childhood theater and dance classes and through a college degree. There was no room for imperfection, although nothing is ever perfect, but it has to come close in theater.” As we unpack that notion, countertransference is strong; I understand his difficulty navigating such complexities.

We know that early development and education impact us over the lifespan, but there is a duality here that needs to be addressed. We encourage creativity, play, and art for our children, and yet, educational messaging states that they are secondary to the craft itself. If our theater kids are hearing this message, what implications does it have for future-state thinking? Most certainly, in my practice treating artists, I’ve seen it manifest as vicarious trauma, anxiety, depression, and psychosomatic symptoms in an attempt to reach an impossible ask: perfection.

As we treat our clients and patients with creative arts backgrounds, we must also inherently consider the marginalization of the fields in which they work. The arts are often underfunded, the amount of talent far exceeds the market need for hiring, and the emotional toll on artists is immense when you consider their biopsychosocial needs in comparison to other professions.

For those who teach theater arts, consideration of messaging and implications for life-long engrained behavior is essential. We can do better by our theater kids. The show does not have to go on at the expense of anyone’s’ well-being. Instead, we can embrace a cultural shift in education and professional theater spaces by encouraging wellness frameworks, emotional well-being, and clear communication. Suffering in silence is not the answer for our students, clients, and artists. If we continue to encourage perfectionism, our creatives will form an armor that makes therapeutic support very difficult. They will protect themselves from the very essence of healing in the name of the art itself.

Pema Chödrön said it well: “When we protect ourselves so we won’t feel pain, that protection becomes like an armor, like armor that imprisons the softness of the heart.”

Theater artists need access to the full range of their emotions to transport audiences to new worlds and realities, providing them not just entertainment but in some cases catharsis. Art is a critical societal need, so let’s help our students, clients, and patients together build self-regard and the ability to embrace imperfection. If we can do this, maybe the show can go on, but steeped in the preservation of humanity and well-being, not perfectionism.

As I look at my client on the screen, considering the implications of his training, background, and commitment, I say, “Then, let’s explore coming close to perfection as not the goal, but the caution. Maybe then, we can unleash your creative potential while also preserving your sense of positive self-regard.” He smiles. And in this moment, we both know there’s much to unpack in being perfectly imperfect. There’s no audience, no performance… just a therapist and their client, unlearning what doesn’t serve us, in order to find what does. Self-preservation above perfectionism.

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