How to Become an Opera Singer: Life After Music School

The student-to-professional transition (00:15)

Jordanne: This is the Singers Tension Podcast, the podcast by singers, about singing, for singers. Welcome to the Singers Tension Podcast. My name is Jordanne Erichsen and I’m here today with Lyndsay Promane, a Canadian mezzo-soprano who did her undergrad and opera diploma at the University of Toronto and is now a member of the COC Chorus, a mentor with Opera InReach, and is freelancing in Toronto as a chamber, art song and opera singer while also teaching privately. So I have Lyndsay with me here today to talk about the transition of a singer from student into the professional world.

Jordanne: Art and the pursuit of artistic voice are endeavours only for the resilient. While some genres have clear right and wrong guidelines, the successful people in these forms must still find their individualism within the confines of the style. Other genres are void of clear boundaries, offering both endless choice and a potentially paralyzing fear of how overwhelming the choices are. Inevitably, every artist must face the transition from student to professional. Classical music, of which we focus on voice here, is no different. In fact, it is commonly told to students of classical voice that their career will be a long journey, perhaps not taking off until closer to their 30s. Singers will place suffocating expectations on themselves to hit specific landmarks in order to stay on track for their dream career, adopting ideas that to deviate in any way from the financially independent singer would be a mark of failure. What does a singer’s life look like in reality, and how do we forge a life for ourselves that is true to our dreams and gives us validation, even when that life may not look exactly as we planned? So welcome, Lyndsay, to the podcast.

Lyndsay: Oh, thanks for having me. That was beautiful. I love that. I could get all that on a t-shirt and wear it every day.

Expectations after the opera school (02:00)

Jordanne: Lyndsay, I’m excited to talk to you about this topic. It’s obviously one that we’re both passionate about. The first thing, and most important to start this off: what were your expectations of how your career would progress after you graduated from U of T?

Lyndsay: I graduated from the opera school in 2016, so it’s been about four or five school years since I’ve been out of school. And my expectations were incredibly rigid and unforgiving. It was a lot of YAP auditions for the Canadian houses. Some success, but not as much as I expected. And that was almost exclusively the pressure that I put on myself. It was very firm, very rigid: it’s got to be this way or the highway. And then when it didn’t work out, it was devastating. It was truly devastating, because I’m a very goal-oriented person and it just wasn’t happening. So that resulted in a pivot, and in choosing a life instead of a career, which has worked out for me really well.

Jordanne: For anyone listening who isn’t immersed in the opera world, a YAP is a young artist program. It’s usually the bridge between a university program and a professional house, like a training program for opera singers. When you were idealizing this transition, did you have an idea of where your income was going to come from as you got into these YAPs? And did you say, “Okay, I’m going to give myself a year, or two years, or six months to get into these programs”?

Lyndsay: I never really gave myself timelines like that. I just kept going back. I just kept trying, and if I got a no, okay, I’ll try next year. I always felt very energized in the fall when the auditions were announced on company websites or casting-call websites. And I remember one fall when I did not feel energized, and I just didn’t audition for anyone. That was oddly freeing, because it was the first time I had allowed myself to say no and to not give in to that pressure. It’s not like anyone was telling me to do it. No one can force you to go. But when you see your immediate peer group, people you have great respect for, doing it, it’s hard not to be influenced by that. And when you see these great Canadian singers who have all gone through these training programs, you think, “Well, I want to be like them, so I have to do this.” That A must ultimately lead to B. That was my mindset.

Paying the bills: oratorio, teaching and day jobs (05:00)

Lyndsay: So to answer your question, it was never “it’s got to be in five years or I’m out,” because I knew that I had to make money. I did move back in with my parents for a time, and I was still teaching and taking a lot of oratorio, so performing sacred music with orchestras. A lot of that quick-turnover work, because with opera it’s longer contracts, whereas with oratorio you can rehearse and perform the work in the same day. You show up to rehearsal and get paid the same day. That appealed to me a lot, so I started introducing and reintroducing myself to ensembles and conductors in Toronto, because I knew that kind of work turned over faster. And I also loved the music. If I could sing Messiah every year for the rest of my life, I would absolutely love that. And I knew I had to make money, so I started teaching. I’m one of the lucky ones who find it really creative and fulfilling, especially working with very little people between grades one and five, which is very creative and a daily test of patience, particularly during remote learning.

Jordanne: That’s an interesting point, because for some, teaching is not fulfilling. You come out of school with an education as a performer and you think, “Okay, I’m only qualified to be a teacher, but I really don’t like it.” I think there isn’t enough time spent with young singers, in university or not, and this could be any genre, on the fact that if you want to put in the time to make a career of this, it is time, and you still have bills to pay during that time. So where is your income coming from, if you don’t have trust-fund parents behind you every step of the way? For myself, I finished university and knew I wanted to go into a young artist program and do the whole auditioning thing. I was living in New York, I finished my training, and I came back to Montreal, and the auditions were so expensive. You don’t just have the auditions. You have the rehearsals with the accompanist and any recordings you need to do, so there might be an audio engineer involved. And I was like, “I really need a job.” I had worked for studios as a teacher before, but most studios really underpay teachers, so it wasn’t sufficient, and you don’t have a lot of students at once. So I ended up taking a nine-to-five job that paid well, but I was completely exhausted at the end of every day and didn’t feel like I could practice to the same capacity and prepare for these auditions. It was a rude awakening: I need to be financially independent, I have bills to pay and auditions to pay for, and I’m trying to be a performer. Realistically, it became a lot harder than when you’re in school and you just practice every day and pay your tuition, maybe with scholarships.

Lyndsay: I relate to that a lot. I served almost every summer and worked at a chain restaurant in Toronto when I was in the opera school. You’re closing the restaurant at one in the morning, and for some reason I always had 9 a.m. or 10 a.m. lessons on Monday mornings. I studied with Jean MacPhail in my undergrad and Wendy Nielsen in the opera school, and they just liked to get going early. So that was very challenging. I absolutely had jobs like that. My parents are incredibly supportive, but they’re also reasonable people, and on my dad’s side of the family they’re all musicians, so we’ve all had to go through our share of, I’ll call it suffering in a way, as fulfilling as this vocation is. It’s very challenging to pay bills exclusively with singing. Frankly, looking at my income, it’s not possible, particularly now during the COVID pandemic. But even before, there were months that went by with no work. That’s just the reality. There’ll be two or three months with no gigs. Had I not been teaching, there’s no way I’d be able to live in Toronto, which is incredibly expensive, or even consider having personal goals, because a lot of goals require money, frankly. So I’ve always been keen to teach and to pursue other things, because those experiences not only put money in the bank, they also inform your singing. It’s those life experiences and all the people you come into contact with through teaching that make you a fuller person and make your life full. And it makes your art more interesting, because you have more references to call upon.

Jordanne: Definitely. If I could go back in time to those last years of school, I would pay more attention to saving money. People save an emergency fund in case they lose their job, but what about saving a fund for that first year outside of university, a nest egg to pay for your auditions and your recordings? Once you’re out of school, it all comes at you so fast, and you’re like, “Oh my goodness, I have all these bills all of a sudden.” Nobody ever said, “If you’re going to do all these auditions after school, you should think about how you’re going to pay for them.” No one said that to me.

Lyndsay: I can’t believe it was never said. And there are grants available for that. There is funding available in Canada, albeit very conditional funding in a lot of cases. But you’re totally right. It’s one of those unspoken rules that go around the university halls. It’s incredibly expensive. When I left school, I still felt a lot of pressure to continue with lessons really regularly, and lessons don’t feel free anymore once you graduate, because you actually have to send an e-transfer after each lesson. It’s not just handled in the fall before the school year starts. You really feel it when you’re not in school anymore. Then there are coachings with the pianist too, and if you want to make some demos, that’s more people you have to pay. But I do think one of the silver linings of this pandemic is that singers have been forced to make their own audition videos to send out for audition season, really by ourselves for the first time, because we’ve never actually been asked to do that before.

The year of seven no’s (13:00)

Jordanne: You touched on this a little, but at what point in the transition from school to professional life did you realize it wasn’t going the way you expected? When did you clue in, and what emotions did that bring up for you?

Lyndsay: I’m almost certain it was 2017. It’s one of those moments in your life where you remember exactly where you were. I was at my parents’ house, lying on the bed, because I had just been told no by every audition I did that fall. Every single one said, “We had so many incredible candidates this year.” That was about seven times, and I was absolutely defeated. It was so devastating, and I said to myself, for the first time ever, “I’m really unsure if I’m cut out for this.” But sometimes when life gives you two paths, you have to forge a third. That was a really painful lesson for me to learn. That’s when I started teaching more, in the private school system in Ontario. I’m not an Ontario certified teacher, but in my position I don’t need to be, because I teach piano and voice privately and I don’t write report cards. So I’m a very specialized person, and in the private system they treat me as such. That was the year I got my first private school job, and then I found the awesome job I have at Holy Trinity School. That led me to take those feelings of disappointment and failure, of “I’m not good enough for this,” and turn them into grit. Okay, that got really bad. Frankly, it can only get better from here. So that was a very dark time, which ultimately turned into hope and grit and resilience.

Jordanne: That’s a really good point about asking whether this is actually for you. Your parents can tell you a million and one times that it’s a really hard path, but it’s your dream, so you have to walk it. I would never tell someone, “Don’t do it because it’s hard.” I would say you may have to pivot a little and create something for yourself that doesn’t look exactly the way you envisioned it. I remember being at a week-long singing workshop in New York, and a mom had brought her daughter to watch all of us perform. She came up to me afterwards and said her daughter really wanted to go to Juilliard for musical theatre. Her daughter was very good, so it could definitely happen for her. And in the bathroom she asked me, “Do you think my daughter could get work? Will she have a job after she graduates?” I looked at her and said, “Honestly, if she’s resilient and thinks outside the box, then it’s very possible, but I’m not going to say it’s easy.” When a parent asks you that, you want to say, “Well, no, not really,” because most of us don’t, but it is possible.

What a diverse musician looks like (17:00)

Jordanne: So I would never tell someone not to go for it. But then you graduate, maybe things don’t happen right away, and you need some kind of a job, and it doesn’t need to be teaching. I hear this all the time from my singing friends: if they even think about getting a secondary degree or diploma, a backup plan in music therapy or psychology or whatever, they feel like they’ve failed, or that all the work they’ve put in up to that point was for nothing. Like it makes them less of a musician because they chose to diversify. I think when we use the word “diverse” as musicians, we associate it with performers who are fluent in multiple styles: musical theatre, sacred, operatic, ensemble and so on. However, a diverse musician in Canada in 2020 would be more accurately depicted as the person whose portfolio is not limited to singing. And you fit that. What does your portfolio currently look like?

Lyndsay: That is such an important point. Pursuing other things doesn’t make you a sellout. That was something I heard quite a bit in my early exposure to music as a student, and I never really got it, because the people doing it seemed so happy and busy, their lives were so full, they got to meet all these wonderful people, and all they wanted to do was make art and help people. I never understood it, I just knew it was “bad.” So when people say, “Oh, I’ll have a backup plan,” I always say, “Why can’t you do both at the same time?” I’m still teaching, and I’ll be blasting out of the school into an Uber to an audition or a rehearsal. It’s a very busy life, and you have to be really organized and well fed and hydrated, but otherwise it’s totally possible. I think you can have more than one dream and still be an integral artist.

Lyndsay: In terms of what my portfolio currently looks like: I am a freelance opera singer, a mezzo-soprano, and I represent myself, so I’m the one finding my own work. I teach private voice and piano lessons in a school in Richmond Hill, which is a teaching and an administrative role, so I get to flex both of those muscles, which is really fun. I’m a mentor with Opera InReach, and our mandate is to examine the civic impact of opera through diversity and representation. We have our new HONE project coming out, and it’s brand new and super exciting. And during the COVID pandemic, I also decided to expand my business, because I do consider myself a business, to include public speaking. I go to young artist programs, studios, universities and wonderful podcasts like yours to talk about the unspoken things I’d like to shine a light on: having more than one job and still being an artist, how to manage social media, whether you need a website. Things that, in my experience, either no one talked about or weren’t talked about enough. When we talk about things or write them down, it makes them real, and a lot of the time we realize it’s not actually as bad as we thought. And I’m coming in as a person who is around 30, someone students can relate to a little more. My primary philosophy is to serve others, and I do that through the speaking. Pro tip: expanding a business during COVID is so scary. It’s wild. But I’ve found it so fulfilling, because I get to connect with young people who are so excited and afraid and nervous and have all these great ideas, and I’m the person on the outside going, “Well, why don’t you just try it and see what happens?” So it’s a full life, and I’m very thankful for it. I’m still able to make it all work and, frankly, feed and house myself during the pandemic.

Finding a philosophy of your own (22:00)

Jordanne: There is so much to be thankful for there, as you said, but I don’t think it’s really luck that has enabled you to do everything. I think you’ve done a very good job of asking yourself, “What is my personal philosophy?” A lot of us don’t do that. We just know we love singing and want to do it at all costs. So you sacrifice a lot of time, money, your heart, maybe a lot of self-confidence, and you get to the end of your training with a very specific idea, as you and I both did, of what success is. And if I don’t fit into that box, I’ve failed. If there’s one thing I could tell young singers who want to make it in any style, whether they’re singer-songwriters or opera singers, it’s that you always have permission to ask yourself: am I still happy with this idea of success? Is this dream I’m pursuing actually making me happy, or am I just pursuing it because I’ve already put so much into it?

Jordanne: For myself, there was something making me very, very unhappy with the opera world and singing. And as you said, it’s a moment you always remember, because it’s clear that something shifted. I found a book in one of those little street library boxes. I was walking home from the gym, and I always look to see what’s in there, and there was a book on Gestalt therapy. The idea is that you dissect your subconscious by looking at your dreams and playing the role of everything in your dream. In the book, a woman goes on stage and says she has a dream of a train going super fast through the desert. He says, “Okay, be the train.” She says, “I am the train. I work really hard. I go really fast, but I don’t get anywhere.” And she has this big epiphany about what her subconscious is telling her. I can’t for the life of me remember what my dream was, but the result was that I realized I had this idea that the only way I would be happy is if I was on stage, making all my money from performing. I dug a little deeper and realized it was coming from the need to prove to my parents that it wasn’t that hard. There’s a lot there. But I realized I wasn’t actually happy. This was killing me. I was working a nine-to-five and I was exhausted. What would make me happy? So there was a big pivot for me. I realized I want a reliable paycheque, but I also want to feel rewarded, and I love working with adults who are serious about their voice. Could I build something there? I spoke to two entrepreneurs in my family and hashed it out, and the end goal was to run a studio that enabled other teachers to make what they deserve, and to make what I deserve, and then have time to perform. Two years later, I had time to perform. Just before COVID, we were doing a musical here in Montreal. So it was a huge pivot. There was a bit of a death of a dream, or of an idea of a dream, but it let me adopt something that was genuine to me, and not just the idea of success that society had made me think I wanted.

Changing your mind (26:00)

Lyndsay: I think one of the big lessons many people are learning, and what I heard you say, is that we’re always allowed to change our minds, and that applies to every part of our life. If I think of who I was in 2017, on a personal and a professional level, and what my goals were for each, had I not chosen to change my mind, my life would look very different and I would be very unhappy. So I’m glad I allowed myself to be influenced by others. You talked about the influence of your parents. I’m thankful that my parents are smart, compassionate and reasonable people, because they believed in me so fiercely, especially when I didn’t. My teachers believed in me fiercely too, and I say fiercely because there were times it was ferocious, when they’d say, “You just need to do it! Just try!” I’m thankful to have influences in my family in music and in business, respectively. That has been a huge game changer for me, and I recognize that it’s a privilege I carry. What I’m trying to do with it now is give it back. And yes, you are allowed to change your mind, and this time gives us the chance to reflect and ask, “Is music actually what I want to do?” So many people have decided during this time, “You know what, I’m going to try something else. I’m going to go back to school and get that degree in English I’ve always wanted,” or “I’m going to write that short story I always wanted to write and see what happens.” We’ve been given the gift of time, for the first time in a long time. Speaking for myself, I’m actually home on a weekend. What? It’s a Sunday night as we record this, and it’s very bizarre that I’m not exhausted, that I’m able to give part of myself at this time of the week. I’m still grappling with it months later. So yes: changing your mind, and allowing yourself to be influenced by others.

Jordanne: And it’s not to say that everyone will be in a position where they need to do something besides performing. There are some people who will 100% believe, “No, I only want to perform. That’s where my heart is.” Then it’s a case of asking what diversity looks like in that situation. You could be an opera singer and look at chorus work, or try musical theatre. If you’re more of an indie or pop singer, what about small live shows? Does karaoke make you feel rewarded? Do you want to join a quartet? The things that make us happy are not always massive stages or huge accolades. If music is really what makes you happy, in what capacity do you need to have it in your life? It’s a reworking of your personal philosophy, as we said earlier, and of what makes you happy.

Lyndsay: Absolutely. That’s so well said. We both know people who say, “No, I don’t want to teach, I don’t want to do that stuff, I only want to do this.” I have nothing but the utmost respect for them, because you have to be so brave to want it that badly. I’m not saying that if you do other things you don’t want it. What I’m saying is that for those whose path is very streamlined, “this is what I need to fill me up,” that’s incredible. And to those who have that attitude: doing other things doesn’t make you less than anyone, and any musical experience that comes with it is the best professional development there is. Standing in the wings of the Four Seasons Centre in Toronto watching Tamara Wilson sing Turandot was an absolute master class. She makes it look so effortless, like she’s singing karaoke, and I’m staring at her from the wings, frankly kind of creepily, going, “How are you doing that?” I got to see that same master class over and over. Those aren’t roles for me, but in the act of singing, that’s professional development. That’s why I came: to be exposed to great singing, not just great singers, so I can take a little nugget away and let it inform my singing in my own way. So for people who want to perform, do that, but allow yourself to be influenced by other experiences, because it only makes you happier. If you want to be a solo singer, do a barbershop quartet. Barbershop quartets are so difficult. One-on-a-part singing takes five years off my life every time. It’s so stressful being an inner part, because you control whether the chord is major or minor. That power is in your hands, and I trip on it in a big way.

Finding work after graduation (31:00)

Jordanne: Totally. What is your advice on how to find work after graduation?

Lyndsay: My advice for finding work after graduation: stay in touch with people. If you do a gig with Maestro Jones, as an example (I don’t know who that is), say, “Hey Maestro, I loved that. Let’s keep in touch.” Actually follow up after the performance, and then six months later say, “Hey Maestro, loved that performance we did a few months ago. Here’s what I’ve been up to.” Not a send-to-all newsletter, but actually reaching out to people individually, because that makes them feel special. They know it’s intended for them, and it tells them you’re genuinely interested. A lot of that is operating like a business and treating the art of singing as a business, which makes more and more sense to me, and which I’m really interested in learning about and operating as. So my greatest piece of advice is to stay in touch, because that can lead to you being that conductor’s go-to person in Toronto, or wherever, if you’re willing to travel. Keep those connections, and realize that they’re people. They like relationships and friends too. It’s not just about the work. It’s about the people, because there are amazing people in this industry if you choose to get to know them. It’s really about connections, not just about the music.

Jordanne: Oh yeah, networking is such a massive part of being an artist, which is hard for introverted artists, because it really feels like a push. But it’s absolutely essential, whether you work in arts admin, as a performer or in an orchestra. You need to learn the art of conversation. If you’ve never practised going up to a stranger and starting a conversation, you should try it.

Lyndsay: I’ve always been that weirdo. At five years old at a carnival, at the games where you throw darts at the balloons to win a prize, I would talk to the people running them: “Do you like your job?” And my parents would shoo me away. I’ve always been a huge connection person. And I certainly need time, because being extroverted doesn’t necessarily mean you’re always outgoing. I need time to make sure my cup is filled, which involves a lot of reality television and junk food. That’s what makes me feel good and gives me what I need to give back to the people I care about. I can appreciate that it’s challenging for introverted folks, but remember that no one’s out to get you, or very few are. I’m learning more and more that there are so many more good people than bad, at least in my immediate circle, and people just want to connect, make music, share art and make this beautiful thing that not everybody gets to do.

Periods of stasis (35:00)

Jordanne: Even for you, with your very diverse portfolio, when you hit periods of stasis, what do they look like for you?

Lyndsay: I also took COVID as an opportunity to have hobbies. I’m not saying I crocheted all these things. It’s very humble. I am not a crafty person. I sing pretty, but making things with my hands is challenging. But I love cooking and baking. I knitted a bit as a kid, so I’m getting back into that, and reading for leisure. So I’m making sure that personally I’m feeling good, because happy artists make good art, or at least art they can stand behind. That’s something Sondra Radvanovsky taught us in a master class in the opera school, and it really stuck with me. As for what it looks like: making sure the chops are up. Practising for half an hour a day, just lip trills and really basic stuff, so you might not be in the growth zone for your singing, but you are in the maintenance zone, because this will be over and we will need to be in vocal and physical shape. I have enough space in my home to exercise, so I make sure I’m physically well. But it doesn’t always look like practising for two hours a day. I’d be lying if I said that. I’m a very goal-oriented person, so I’ll practise more if a gig is coming up. Since there really isn’t anything right now, I make sure vocally I’m feeling good, do something that makes me happy, and keep my physical health where it needs to be so I can maintain my schedule. Because even in periods of stasis, I’m still teaching full-time, 40 hours a week. That kind of is my quiet time, which is weird, but that’s just what my life looks like. It’s being filled with something. Life looks like that sometimes: not a lot of singing, but personally really full, and vice versa. I’m treating this as one of those times. Not a lot of singing, but I’m still an artist. I still respect myself as an artist. I’m just going to teach middle C for 40 hours a week, which is very cute and very fun.

The best advice: find your why (38:00)

Jordanne: One of the questions I like to ask everyone who comes on the show is: what is the best singing advice you’ve ever received? It could be technique or the philosophy of being a singer, whatever comes to mind.

Lyndsay: The best advice I ever received came from Tom Diamond. He was the first person who introduced me to the idea of having a philosophy of music making. What is your philosophy? Another way of asking that is: what is your why? That has been incredibly informative, and so has writing it down, because when you write it down it becomes real. You can see it, and it’s outside of your brain. That was very significant, because when my life started to look different from how I had planned it, my philosophy remained the same. I was doing those different things for the same fundamental reason. Even when I’m thinking, “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’m doing this,” it’s still for that reason. And you don’t have to tell anybody. It’s only for you, unless you want to tweet it. My boundaries say it’s just for me, and I’ll prove it by doing these things in a way that is integral to me, and very honest and authentic to me right now, which can change.

Jordanne: That summarizes a lot of what we’ve said about what makes you happy, and having permission to question it and re-evaluate. At the end of the day, if your life looks nothing like what you thought it would, but what you’re doing feeds into your why, you won’t feel like a failure. You won’t feel like you’re living for the future and can’t wait for another five years to pass. You’re doing what you want to be doing. It becomes more about having a reason for what you do that goes beyond needing money and accolades from people. It’s about who you are and what’s important to you, and that way you don’t lose yourself as a person. If you woke up and could no longer sing, you would still have a why, and you could find ways to fill that why. And if you don’t have it and you’re just pushing forward with a career as a singer, then, as Sondra Radvanovsky said, you’re probably not a happy singer. You’re probably feeling a lot of obligation and pressure, and you can’t make beautiful art from obligation and pressure.

Challenging your patterns (41:00)

Lyndsay: Or it certainly doesn’t feel good. When we stop and challenge our ideas, or the patterns we’ve chosen, it’s very painful. It’s like taking a crowbar to your sternum and having to open it up. That’s a very difficult thing to do, particularly when we have to look a certain way and have everything together. There’s also that freelance mentality: no one can know I’m going through this, that anything is wrong, whether it’s health, emotional or vocal, because that makes me less hireable than another singer. It’s totally a thing, and something I talk about a lot. We all experience it at some point: “I’m not going to tell anybody I’m sick or going through something, because I’d be exposed.” That’s kind of messed up, in my opinion. So challenging those patterns is really important, because it only leads to growth and to different choices that lead to a fuller life. Choosing a life, for me, is far more interesting and fulfilling than choosing a job or a career, because singing is still a job. You’ve got to show up. You’ve got to be prepared. You get in trouble if you’re not prepared. You get paid for it. That’s a J-O-B. But choosing a life is far more interesting to me.

Jordanne: And having permission to shake up what that looks like, beyond what people on Instagram are touting with their perfect lives. It’s not going to look like that. It’s going to be perfect for you, and maybe not as Instagrammable, but it doesn’t need to be.

Lyndsay: Look, the way I was living my life this weekend did not belong on the internet. Sweatpants and lazy days. Not a glamorous moment. But you know what? It’s a weekend, I worked really hard this week, and I’m going to take it easy. Not every moment of your life is going to be Instagrammable. Try to be as authentic with yourself as possible. As humans, you’ll find you’re living a pattern that feels really comfortable and safe, and then you go, “Oh my god, no, this is not working,” because something has blown up or you’re not getting the result you want. As you said so well, we have to shake it up. My thing is always: I’m going to try this new thing, because what’s the worst that could happen? We have this little voice inside us saying, “Oh, but you can so do that.” And I’m listening to that voice more and more.

Jordanne: Thank you so much, Lyndsay, for coming on the podcast. There’s so much useful information. It was a pleasure to have you.

Lyndsay: Thanks for having me. This was great.