Sarah Martinez was singing backup on lover when her voice suddenly stopped midnote. 60,000 people watched as she froze completely, her face going pale under the stage lights. Taylor Swift kept singing like nothing was wrong. But then she did something that made every backup singer in the music industry stop and take notice.

 What she whispered in Sarah’s ear while still hitting every note became the most talked about moment of the tour. It was July 28th, 2024 at Sofi Stadium in Los Angeles. The Aerys tour was in full swing and this was Sarah Martinez very first night performing with Taylor Swift. Just 3 weeks earlier, Sarah had been working as a vocal coach in a small studio in Nashville.

 Convinced her days of performing on stage were over forever. 5 years ago, Sarah had been on the verge of a breakthrough in her music career. She’d been a backup vocalist for several major artists, had a record deal in the works, and was being courted by some of the biggest names in the industry. But then during a massive stadium show in front of 80,000 people, something inside her broke.

 She was singing harmonies for a major pop star when she suddenly couldn’t remember the words. Her mind went completely blank. She stood there frozen while the music continued around her. The lead singer kept going. The other backup singers covered for her, but Sarah felt like she was drowning in front of tens of thousands of people. The panic was so intense that she genuinely thought she was dying.

 After that night, Sarah couldn’t get back on a stage. Every time she tried, the panic would return, her hands would shake, her breathing would become shallow, and that same terrifying blankness would take over her mind. She tried therapy, breathing exercises, medication. Nothing worked. The stage fright had won.

 So Sarah did what she thought she had to do. She walked away from performing entirely. She became a vocal coach instead, teaching other people to do what she couldn’t do anymore. She was good at it, really good. Her students loved her because she understood their fears in a way that most coaches didn’t. She knew what it felt like to be paralyzed by self-doubt.

 But part of her died when she gave up performing. Every day she’d help her students prepare for auditions and performances. And every day she’d go home feeling like she’d betrayed her own dreams. Then in early July 2024, Sarah got an email that changed everything. It was from Taylor Swift’s management team.

 They wanted to meet with her about a position on the Aras tour. Sarah assumed it was for vocal coaching, maybe working with Taylor on vocal warm-ups or helping train other backup singers. She never imagined they wanted her to perform. The meeting was with Taylor herself, which was unusual. Most artists delegate hiring to their management team, but Taylor insisted on meeting Sarah personally.

 They sat in a small rehearsal room in Nashville, just the two of them. And Taylor got straight to the point. I read about what happened to you 5 years ago. Taylor said the panic attack on stage. Sarah felt her stomach drop. This was it. They’d found out about her past and now they were going to tell her they couldn’t hire her.

 She started to apologize, but Taylor held up her hand. I’m not bringing it up to judge you, Taylor said. I’m bringing it up because it’s exactly why I want you on this tour. I need someone who knows what fear feels like. I need someone who understands that performing isn’t just about hitting the right notes. It’s about being vulnerable in front of thousands of people and doing it anyway.

 Sarah stared at her, not understanding. You want me to perform on stage after knowing what happened? Especially because of what happened. Taylor said, “Look, I could hire a 100 technically perfect backup singers who’ve never missed a note in their lives. But I don’t want perfect. I want real. I want someone who has to fight for every moment they’re on that stage because that fight is what makes the performance mean something.

” Taylor leaned forward, her eyes serious. Here’s what I believe. The best performers aren’t the ones who never feel fear. They’re the ones who feel it and show up anyway. And Sarah, you showing up after 5 years of being too scared to perform. That’s the kind of courage I want on my stage.

 Sarah left that meeting in a days. Part of her wanted to say no to protect herself from the possibility of failing again. But another part of her, the part that had been slowly dying for 5 years, was screaming at her to take the chance. She said yes. The next 3 weeks were the most terrifying of Sarah’s life. Taylor’s team was incredibly supportive, working with her on breathing techniques and giving her strategies for managing anxiety.

 Taylor herself checked in with Sarah almost every day, sending encouraging texts and occasionally calling just to talk through Sarah’s fears. But nothing could fully prepare Sarah for what it would feel like to stand on that stage at SofiStadium with 60,000 people staring at her.

 As she stood backstage on July 28th waiting for her queue, Sarah thought she might throw up. Her hands were shaking so badly she had to clasp them together. Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it over the sound of the crowd. One of the other backup singers, Michelle, squeezed her hand. You’ve got this, she whispered.

 Just breathe and follow Taylor’s lead. Sarah nodded, but she didn’t believe it. She was going to fail. She was going to freeze just like she did 5 years ago. And this time it would be even worse because it would be on Taylor Swift’s tour in front of an even bigger crowd with even more at stake. The first hour of the show was a blur.

 Sarah was so focused on not messing up that she barely registered what was happening. She hit her notes. She followed the choreography and somehow she made it through song after song without falling apart. Maybe she thought she could actually do this. Then came Lover. It was a slower song, more intimate, and the harmonies were crucial.

 Sarah had practiced them hundreds of times. She knew every note, every breath, every moment where her voice was supposed to blend with Taylor’s and create that perfect ethereal sound that made the song so magical. Taylor began singing, her voice filling the stadium with that familiar warmth. We could leave the Christmas lights up till January.

 The crowd swayed, phone lights creating a sea of stars. Sarah came in with her harmony. And for the first verse, everything was perfect. Then halfway through the second verse, it happened. Sarah’s mind went blank. Completely blank. She couldn’t remember the next note. She couldn’t remember the words. She couldn’t remember anything except the crushing weight of 60,000 people watching her.

Her voice stopped midnote, cutting off abruptly. She stood there frozen, her mouth slightly open, but no sound coming out. The other backup singers kept going, covering for her, but Sarah could feel herself starting to spiral. Her vision was tunneling. Her hands started shaking.

 The panic was coming back just like 5 years ago. Taylor kept singing, seemingly unaffected. But then, without missing a single note, she walked over to where Sarah was standing. She didn’t stop singing. She didn’t signal to anyone that something was wrong. She just moved closer to Sarah, still hitting every note perfectly. Then Taylor did something that seemed impossible while singing the next line.

Can I go where you go? She leaned in close to Sarah’s ear and whispered something that only Sarah could hear. My cat just threw up on my Grammys this morning. It was so unexpected, so absurdly random that Sarah’s brain shortcircuited. For a split second, she forgot about the panic. Forgot about the 60,000 people.

 Forgot about everything except the mental image of Taylor Swift’s cat throwing up on a Grammy award. Sarah laughed. She couldn’t help it. A genuine shocked laugh escaped her throat right there on stage. And somehow that laugh broke through the panic. Suddenly, she could breathe again. She could think. She could remember the harmonies.

 Sarah jumped back into the song, her voice rejoining Taylor’s and the other backup singers for the chorus. Can we always be this close? They sang together, and this time Sarah’s voice was strong and clear. Taylor gave her the smallest smile and moved back to center stage, finishing the song like nothing had happened. But everyone watching knew something incredible had just occurred. Sarah had frozen.

 Taylor had saved her. And somehow they’d made it look effortless. When they came off stage after that set, Sarah immediately found Taylor. I’m so sorry, she said, tears running down her face. I completely froze. I messed up your song in front of 60,000 people. Taylor pulled her into a hug. You didn’t mess up anything.

 You had a moment of panic and then you fought through it and finished strong. “That’s not failure,” Sarah. “That’s courage.” “But why did you say that?” Sarah asked, half laughing, half crying. “About your cat and your Grammy?” Taylor grinned. “Because you were in your head, spiraling into panic. I needed to say something.” so ridiculous, so completely unrelated to the performance that it would snap you out of that spiral.

 Your brain couldn’t panic and process cat vomit on Grammys at the same time. Does your cat really throw up on your Grammys? Sarah asked. Oh, all the time. Taylor said, “Meredith has zero respect for my awards, but that’s what makes it such a good line. It’s too weird not to be true, right? The absurdity of it forces your brain to reset.

 What Sarah didn’t know was that Taylor had planned for this moment, not the exact moment of Sarah freezing. Taylor couldn’t have predicted that, but Taylor had prepared herself for the possibility. She’d worked with a performance psychologist to learn techniques for helping someone experiencing stage fright without drawing attention to it.

 The absurd truth technique was one of thosestrategies. When someone is spiraling into panic, their brain is trapped in a loop of catastrophic thinking. Introducing something completely unexpected and absurd, especially something personal and humanizing can break that loop long enough for the person to regain control.

 But Taylor’s preparation went even deeper than that. She’d specifically hired Sarah, knowing this might happen. She wanted someone on her tour who was fighting real battles because Taylor believed that vulnerability and authenticity mattered more than technical perfection. You know what I realized when I was putting this tour together? Taylor told Sarah later that night.

 The performances that move people the most aren’t the ones where everything goes perfectly. They’re the ones where you can see the humanity, the struggle, the person behind the performer, you freezing tonight and then coming back. That’s going to mean more to someone watching than a perfectly executed harmony would have. Sarah performed in 89 more shows on the Eerys tour.

 She never froze again, but there were nights when she felt the panic starting to creep in. And every time she’d catch Taylor’s eye, and Taylor would do something small, stick out her tongue, make a goofy face, mouth something ridiculous, just enough to snap Sarah out of her head and back into the moment. By the end of the tour, Sarah wasn’t just performing, she was thriving.

 She’d rediscovered the joy that had made her fall in love with music in the first place. And more importantly, she’d learned that her stage fright didn’t make her weak. It made her brave because she showed up anyway. Today, Sarah runs a program for performers with stage anxiety. She works with singers, actors, dancers, anyone who wants to perform but is held back by fear.

 and her approach is directly inspired by what Taylor taught her. Don’t try to eliminate the fear. Learn to perform alongside it. But the impact of that moment at Sofi Stadium went far beyond Sarah’s personal journey. Taylor’s handling of the situation became a case study in artist management and performance psychology. Other major artists started adopting similar approaches, creating support systems for backup performers who might be struggling.

 More importantly, it changed the conversation about vulnerability in performance. Taylor had always been open about her own anxieties and struggles, but seeing her support a backup singer so gracefully without making it a spectacle, without drawing unnecessary attention, showed other artists that supporting your team’s mental health isn’t just compassionate, it’s essential.

 Several major artists have since said publicly that they changed their hiring practices after seeing how Taylor approached Sarah’s situation. They started looking for performers who brought more than technical skill to the stage. They looked for people who brought heart, vulnerability, and the courage to show up despite their fears. In an interview a year after the Eerys tour, Sarah was asked what she’d say to someone who’s given up on their dreams because of anxiety or stage fright.

 I’d tell them what Taylor taught me. Sarah said, “Being afraid doesn’t mean you’re not ready. Sometimes it means you’re ready for something real. The fear doesn’t go away. You just learn to perform anyway. And sometimes when you’re in the middle of that fear, someone will whisper something ridiculous about their cat throwing up and you’ll realize that the whole thing is less scary than you thought.

 The whisper heard around the music world wasn’t just about saving one performance. It was about changing how we think about fear, vulnerability, and what it means to support each other in our most difficult moments. If this story of courage and compassion moved you, make sure to hit that subscribe button and give this video a thumbs up.

Share it with someone who’s fighting their own battle with fear or anxiety. Sometimes we all need a reminder that being scared and being brave aren’t opposites. Have you ever had someone help you through a panic moment? Share your story in the comments below and don’t forget to ring that notification bell for more incredible true stories about the heart behind music’s biggest stars.