Is over-preparation a hidden cause of stage anxiety?

I was pacing in my kitchen at 2 a.m., still mouthing the same sentence for tomorrow’s pitch. My cat looked bored. I felt weirdly proud that I could recite every slide with my eyes closed, yet my stomach kept doing somersaults. At some point a thought blinked: “What if all this drilling is the reason I’m freaking out?”  

That question kept me up more than the espresso. Turns out a lot of us - especially the socially-anxious crew - use endless prep as bubble wrap. Feels safe, sure, but sometimes the bubble wrap becomes a straight-jacket. Let’s unpack that vibe and, more important, find a saner prep routine.

the thin line between rehearsing and hiding

Preparation is great. A set list, a plan, a glass of water on stage - love all that. The trouble starts when rehearsing shifts from “getting ready” to “numbing uncertainty.”

Here’s why that shift can crank anxiety up instead of down:

• Over-prepping trains your brain to expect perfect conditions. Real life gives you coughs, flickering projectors, and that one person in row three who never blinks.

• Memorizing every comma leaves zero mental bandwidth for the unexpected. One tiny hiccup and the whole script feels corrupted.
• The longer you stay in rehearsal mode, the longer you postpone exposure. Anxiety feeds on avoidance, so each extra run-through quietly reinforces the idea that the stage is dangerous territory.

  The kicker? Your nervous system starts to equate “I still feel edgy” with “I’m not ready yet,” which is like chasing a mirage.

  how to spot when you’ve crossed the line

  Ask yourself these quick checks:

  1. Would one more rehearsal give you new insight, or just recycle the same material?

2. Are you tweaking to polish, or tweaking because you’re scared to stop?

3. Do you feel guilty taking breaks? (Guilt is often a red flag that prep has morphed into avoidance.)

4. Are you postponing the event “to feel more ready”? If rescheduling feels like relief, that’s avoidance wearing a productivity hoodie.

If you nod to two or more, you’re probably camping in Over-Prep Land.

a “good enough” prep template

Borrow this loose structure, then go touch grass:

Phase 1 – outline (30%)

• Clarify the core message and flow. Sticky-note it on a wall. Done.

  Phase 2 – rough run (30%)

• Talk it through once, mistakes allowed. Record audio if that doesn’t weird you out.

  Phase 3 – tighten the bolts (20%)

• Fix glaring issues. Time yourself. Edit slides or cues. That’s it.

  Phase 4 – vibe check (20%)

• Do one rehearsal in the actual shoes/clothes you’ll wear. Simulate tech if possible.
• End with a “mess-up drill”: deliberately skip a slide or mispronounce a word, then recover. Teaches the brain that mistakes are survivable.

  When the timer on each phase dings, move on - even if the gremlin in your head yells “But wait!”

  in-the-moment calm hacks

  So you limited your prep and you’re still sweaty backstage? Same. Try these:

  • Micro-exhale: Breathe in for 4 counts, breathe out for 6. Longer exhale turns down adrenaline.

• Grounding phrase: Pick a sentence like “I’m here to share, not to win awards.” Whisper it while the host reads your bio.
• Look for a friendly face in the crowd early. Anchor to them when nerves spike.
• Accept the first 60 seconds will feel odd. Your body usually settles right after.

  Most importantly, remember that an audience usually wants you to succeed. They’re busy worrying about their own inbox, not your shaky hands.

  wrapping up before the mic drop

  Over-preparation feels productive, but it can secretly lock in anxiety. Swap “infinite rehearsals” for a capped, purpose-driven plan, sprinkle in exposure to imperfection, and you’ll walk on stage lighter. Your cat will also appreciate the extra sleep.

  Give it a shot next gig. Keep the prep lean, keep the vibe kind, and see what shifts. You might still feel butterflies - just fewer of the carnivorous kind.