I was struck today by just how fragile one's sense of self can be. A careless comment from an unaware colleague and suddenly someone is reduced to helpless tears and a resurgence of long ago self hatred. I find that I too am teary and sad tonight, as I was unable to stop this hurt from happening on my watch. I need to learn how, as a teacher and choreographer--a leader really, to be empathetic without being triggered myself. (side note: the therapy speak of my writing is really another worrisome topic to be addressed in a different post!) I find it really hard. I just have to say, ignore the tears and listen to my words. The tears are mine and real, but are from a different time. My words are in the here and now and I am fully present to you. Hard though. It's hard to see the hurt that you know so well and so deeply in someone else's eyes, yet have no way to take it away.

Autonomy

The last few weeks have been life changing, in ways both big and small. Rob's death was immense. Feeling his loss through Gillian was heartbreaking. I in no way want to completely turn this to me, but any experience will have personal ripples and for my personal journey, his death was an eye opener to the imagined results of my own unfulfilled suicidal fantasies. I have spent the last 12 years in therapy, trying to find...wow...so many things: a reason for living, the reason(s) that I felt that I couldn't or shouldn't. I've looked for someone to blame, a catalyst for my pain and anguish and torture. I've cried, floated out of my body, shut down, written endless emails and journal entries dissecting my past, my parents and my mind. Along the way I made numerous discoveries. There are and were valid and heartbreaking reasons for my "craziness". Yet with the increasing knowledge, nothing really changed. I became less self destructive. I usually eat on a regular basis now. I have stopped crashing cars and taking sleeping pills and cutting and burning.....I've learned to handle myself in a way that will keep me on the planet. But internally, nothing was different. I was increasingly able, perhaps simply as a result of growing older, to cope, however nothing cured me of the desire to go until now. I stayed alive because I was supposed to. Looking into Jocelyn and Gillian's shocked and shattered eyes made me realize that with all of the release that I hoped to experience myself, I would have put that look into my sister's eyes. That single act would have been unforgivable. What is interesting is that I've two friends who committed suicide and neither of those tragedies (and they were absolutely tragedies) gave me this autonomy. It was this unexpected, accidental death that, along with many many other changes in my life, made me finally say, you know what? Living just might be ok. I don't need a therapist to remind me of that fact. I can find something every day to live for, to strive for and to be proud of. I have the ability to put those nasty voices in the corner. I've yet to shut them up, but I can let them chatter on while I do what needs to be done. That feels like freedom to me. It is a new and glorious opening. And for the first time in years, I'm going to do it alone.

Balance...

There is this thing...this balance between excitement and control, between hope and lack of attachment. I want these various jobs that I audition for so badly, but everyone knows that showing how much you want and hope and pray for (or even, God forbid, NEED) a job is an instant job killer. I had two call-backs last week, one for a commercial and one for a play. I am still holding out hope, as I really want them both. It can still happen but each moment that passes dims the possibility just a little. I was so excited to be called back. I felt that in each case I showed up and did good work, though I can always think of what I should of or could of or might have done. There is this initial rush and then it's over and the only thing left to do is wait. Each minute that goes by feels like a little ding. My inner voices start to berate me: you didn't study the script enough, you are too scrawny, you're too fat (my inner voices get equal time), you were boring, you were too pushy, you didn't cry enough in the emotional scenes, you were too quick to tear up. This detail goes on for a while, and then it becomes more over-reaching; you will never book another job again, you are in the wrong business, you basically just suck. All of this can get a girl down. Right? But, there is one thing that I am finally starting to learn. Fulfillment can come from many different sources. As I sat staring at the phone today (Ok, I wasn't sitting, I was on the elliptical, but still....) I received an email telling me that I am being honored by the Art of Elysium for my contributions as a volunteer in the theater department. That email made me cry tears of joy. I love the work that I do with AOE, and to get acknowledged for it, wow. What a gift. So, thank you for that. For giving me back some balance and a reminder that I do this work, all of it, for love. (I still want the jobs...just sayin')