I've never heard of anyone at an AA meeting who stood up and declared, "Hi. My name is Joe, and I'm a karaoke-holic." Support groups don't exist for people like me. I suppose I don't need them; the stage is my therapy, my safe haven, and my identity.
Karaoke saved me. Eleven years ago, I was fresh out of high school and certain I'd make it as a singer. I had the voice, the body, the presence, and the charisma to carry me into the limelight. I gathered a few band members together and started doing inner-city shows at small clubs and cafes. Fans asked for post-gig autographs often, sure I'd be on the cover of tabloids before long; that's where famous people go.
Chicago took to me well. Strangers began to recognize me at work. I was answering phones at a salon to cover my bills. It was temporary work; I would only be there until an agent noticed my talent. At least, that's what I thought as a nave nineteen-year-old girl. Three years passed and I still hadn't managed my way past local celebrity. I was simply a receptionist who got waved at a lot, one who booked shows every weekend. Little did I know, my career as an artist was at its peak.
It was a downhill roll from there. Life got to me. I began to wonder if I'd ever be signed by a record company. It showed on my face when I performed. It showed on my hips when I looked at myself in the mirror. It showed at my job when I got yet another raise. That was my life and I wasn't going to escape it. Nevertheless, I struggled to accept what was. After I was married, and especially after the birth of my first child, there was no denying it: I would never be guided to a lucrative career by my voice and passion.
My baby grew a little older and so did I. When a babysitter was available, my spouse and I started to go out on the town again. We stopped by a karaoke bar after dinner one night and I couldn't resist the stage. I was immediately addicted. By now, I will go to any length to clear at least one night a week from my schedule. I need that platform, that rush, that awestruck look people give me when I sing. Then I need a strong round of applause to assure me that under different circumstances, I could have gained an audience of millions.