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¿why do we freeze up? the neuroscience behind stage fright explained - overcoming stage fright
Public speaking, playing an instrument in front of others, or presenting an important project triggers sensations in the body so intense that they sometimes make our mind go blank. It is not a lack of talent or preparation: it is a deeply human mechanism. Understanding what happens in the brain and in the body when stage fright appears makes it possible to intervene with concrete strategies and train a more useful response.
Stage fright is a stress reaction to a situation of social evaluation. The nervous system interprets public exposure as a possible risk to group belonging, something that, from an evolutionary perspective, was crucial for survival. That’s why, even if the room is full of friendly colleagues, threat circuits can be powerfully activated. The paradox is that the more we care about the outcome, the more likely the body is to turn up the volume of the response.
When we perceive risk, the amygdala acts like a warning siren. It sends signals that switch on the sympathetic nervous system and the stress axis, releasing adrenaline and cortisol. This cascade increases heart rate, elevates breathing, redistributes blood flow to large muscle groups, and sharpens sight and hearing for immediate action.
It’s not only fight or flee. Freezing is also an option in the system. On stage, freezing can feel like a blank mind, bodily rigidity, or difficulty starting the first sentence. It’s not laziness or lack of willpower: it’s an automatic pattern that tries to “go unnoticed” in the face of a perceived threat.
A moderate level of arousal can improve focus and energy. However, when adrenaline and cortisol spike, a threshold is crossed where fine coordination, working memory, and voice control deteriorate. This relationship between arousal and performance is known as the Yerkes-Dodson law.
The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex supports working memory and executive control—exactly what we use to organize ideas and choose words. Under high stress, the amygdala dominates the network and the prefrontal cortex temporarily loses efficiency. Hence the difficulty recalling the opening, the mind going blank, or the appearance of filler words. In addition, language can suffer because fine control of breathing and the larynx depends on circuits that become less precise with sympathetic overactivation.
The brain is extremely sensitive to social evaluation. Anticipating shame or judgment activates the same circuits as physical pain. Perfectionism and high self-demand add cognitive load: the mind monitors every gesture and word, diverting resources from the main task. The so-called spotlight effect also plays a role: we overestimate how much others watch and remember us, amplifying fear.
We don’t all react the same way. Learning history (good or bad prior experiences), genetics linked to stress reactivity, recent sleep, caffeine intake, and body state (hydration, glucose) all play a role. People with high interoceptive sensitivity notice internal signals more and may interpret them as dangerous, increasing the anxiety loop.
The brain learns safety through repetition in increasingly challenging contexts. Start in small settings, progressively raise the size or importance of the audience, and alternate live practice with detailed visualization of the stage, light, sound, and your clear voice. Each positive experience updates the threat memory.
Practicing 5 to 10 minutes daily of slow breathing with prolonged exhalation improves heart rate variability, a marker of nervous system flexibility. Softly vocalizing, humming, or reading aloud with diaphragmatic support also trains voice control under arousal.
Some people use tools such as practicing with video recording to desensitize or seeking structured feedback. In clinical contexts, some turn to psychological interventions such as cognitive-behavioral therapy. The use of medication should be evaluated by a health professional based on each case.
Stage blockage is not a personal flaw, but the combination of a well-intentioned brain alarm and a demanding interpretation of the social context. When we understand that the amygdala prioritizes survival over eloquence, we can design a plan that starts with the body, continues with attention, and ends with technique. Breathing with long exhalations, sensory anchors, if-then scripts, and gradual practice build learned safety. It’s not about eliminating nerves, but about creating conditions for them to collaborate with your message. With each chosen exposure and each deliberate rehearsal, the brain updates its map: the stage ceases to be a threat and becomes a platform for your voice.