And then you sit at home in your heavy armchair and think about what that was all about. I was on tour for a few days, performed in several cities with my show and I have to say: It was a crazy ride. You learn so much. About the people in the different cities, the audience, the guests on the stage.
And about yourself.
That brief moment before stepping in front of this crowd. The pulse increases, the heart no longer just beats casually, but throbs clearly into consciousness. Am I going to collapse in front of the crowd? Will my voice fail after a sentence? Blackout? escape reflex? panic attack? Situations you cannot simulate.
What two hours will I experience? You have no chance of self-knowledge without exposing yourself to the “threat” of a live situation. The music sounds, the announcement is made, applause, performance. The moment of truth.
My name is Mickey Beisenherz. In Castrop-Rauxel I am a world star. Elsewhere I have to pay for everything myself. I am a multimedia (single) general store. Author (Extra3, Jungle Camp), presenter (ZDF, NDR, ProSieben, ntv), podcast host (“Apocalypse and Filter Coffee”), occasional cartoonist. There are things that strike me. Sometimes even upset me. And since the impulse control is constantly jammed, they probably have to get out. My religious symbol is the crosshair. The razor blade is my dance floor. And just now it itches in the feet again.
These friendly people, the positive, expectant crowd and the most important thing: the cheerful face of my friend and sidekick Loffy, who not only takes care of the technology, but is also the happy face on the podium to the right of the bar, in which I all the time looks. It means so much to me to know someone with whom I not only share the joy on stage, but also everything around it. School trip, that’s the feeling that runs through everything. What a pity it would be to experience all this alone.
And let’s be honest: psychologically, it’s an immense crutch to know someone with you in front of the people who you could figuratively play the ball to when the pressure just gets too much for you. Not that it’s necessary. But just knowing that you could do it is enough to prevent such a situation from occurring in the first place.
There are interesting processes that work in you. Watching yourself how you function in front of an audience. I know such and such evenings. Undoubtedly there have been performances in the past that can only be described as failures. The nervousness, the tension, the shortness of breath with which I rattled off the lyrics, as if I could only get it over with with the necessary speaking speed as quickly as possible. It was sometimes cruel, and you could see that. How should I describe this to you? Do you remember Habeck’s appearance at Maischberger on the subject of insolvency? Exactly. That was pure performer gold against my lowlights.
But something has changed. On the one hand, I only talk publicly about things that interest me – and the most important thing: I have a routine. Once you learn that speaking in front of people doesn’t mean you’ll automatically die, your self-confidence will grow.
The simple trust that it’s possible, even more: that it’s fun. Because that’s what life is all about. About the two antipodes: lust and fear. Do I feel like it, do I enjoy doing it? Does the fear of failure dominate? Is everything I do shaped by thoughts of failure? Or do I give this evening a chance to become a great memory?
Little snag: You’ll only find out if you find out yourself, outside. But let’s look at it this way: even a shitty performance can later become a good anecdote. Comforting.
