Me? Well I kinda do a combination. I cycle through the different modes, trying on each for size before finally giving up and letting myself do what's hardest...wait. You see, I've been the quiet solo fighter who retreats from the world most my life. I think maybe when I was younger it seemed the most noble, to fight the silent battle internally, to be at war inside but at peace on the exterior. I mean that's what the tormented hero is like right? She smiles but her eyes are filled with eternal sorrow. Yet what they don't tell you is fighting alone is tiresome and treacherous, and when you're the type of person who takes on the burden of life silently and secretly, it can also be crushing. I found that out a number of years back, discovered what it felt like to be drowning in your own secret sea of misery, helplessly treading in the deepest darkest pool hidden in a cave where no one can see you. This is the point in which many grow tired, just give up, let the pool drown them and stop seeing the glimmer of light that is hope, that is life, that is the joy of living, the beauty of this miracle that somehow and for some unknown reason carbon, hydrogen, and oxygen molecules bound together to create this amazing phenomena. Luckily for me, I can be a little too sane, too rational for my own good (and yes, at times I am still crazier than I'd like to admit...I am still a double X chromosome and we're prone to craziness) and succumbing to the black waters was not an option.
I found my life raft, my dangling rope with which I managed to hoist myself back from the dead, back to the land of the living and I've never wanted to fall into that cave again. Granted I still fight my own secret battles (old habits die hard), but as soon as I feel myself slipping I remember those desolate days and I reach out desperately trying to cling to the rocks and branches around me, to remind myself that I don't have to fall in the hole. That there are these things to support me, to help me carry the weight on my shoulders. And I cycle, I look outwards rather than inwards for strength. I post inspirational sayings, read articles about what it takes to be happy, I push it away, I pretend it's not there, I retreat from the world...but only a little. I allow myself to stay home in pajamas all day, to watch hulu, to (as much as it kills me) be unproductive, to ignore phone calls and texts, to have the mental meltdowns but only to a point. I'm almost hypersensitive to the warning signs, though the causes are often buried so deep in my subconscious that I can never really figure out what it is that caused it. I just wake one day with that feeling in my gut and dread in my heart, knowing that it's begun again and not knowing why or when it'll leave.
Opening up. Opening up to the world is important, I will never be an open book, I will never fully wear my heart on my sleeve, I will never just let you in without question. I'm guarded, jaded, pessimistic, and I pride myself in at least believing I'm fully self sufficient. These are things I know, I also know I don't want these to be things that define me, and I also know that behind each one, there's another thing I am but may not want you to know. I am hopeful, I'm a secret romantic, I don't like being so uptight and structured, and I want more than anything to be simply happy. So when I've let myself dwell over, waste time and energy over, and cut myself off from the world for long enough, I do what never seems to get easier. I reach out. I make phone calls, I admit to the world and those few my guarded self has carefully chosen, that things aren't ok. That I'm not the strong, happy, optimistic person I try to be, that I want to be. That yes, I too have bad days, and yes, I'm vulnerable, weak, and human. You may be thinking "well duh, of course you are" but in my twisted and semi delusional mind I'd like to think I'm not, or don't come across as such. But I have to remember it's ok, it's ok to not be the perfect person I want to be, that if I'm not careful I will kill myself trying and that in the end, it doesn't matter. In the end we are only happy when we can accept ourselves and simply live our lives, when we realize we don't HAVE to be a certain way, and our lives will never travel that straight path we think they should. And it's OK, all we have to do is remember to live.
Sounds simple, right? Yeah, right. As much as I think I've got it figured out, as much as I think I know the right way to think, to live, I'm just as blind and clueless as anyone else. As much as I know these simple truths, I am still too suborn to just accept them. So what's the point of this post? Well, I haven't written in a bit, breaking my two posts a week goal...or rather I should say I haven't posted in a while. I've written...but they've remained as unfinished drafts still sitting in cyberspace purgatory if you will.
Yes, I've been a recent refugee in my own apartment, hiding from the world and the ever persistent problems that I pretend don't exist. They do, and I shut down, and I become afraid. I retreat into my own mind, which we all know how powerful a thing a mind can be, and I start obsessing over things I shouldn't. I start pulling away from the living and opening up to people, the world, becomes increasingly difficult. So I caught up on my TV shows, spent plenty of time in my pj's, stared at my dishes and messy room, and I've written posts, or started to, and when almost done I've paused, and suddenly and irrationally I've become afraid to finish, to hit that "publish post" button, to expose myself and my feelings to the world...and why? Why do I have this crippling fear of putting myself out there? It's retarded, and I can recognize it, and I fight it constantly, sometimes I win, sometimes it wins. In the end though, I must win, I must move forward, pull myself back up and out of the web of insecurities, I'm an actress after all, and the most powerful tool an actor can have is the ability to be vulnerable. To put themselves out there, to fall to fail, to break those ridiculous walls that we all put up around us, so here I am. Step 1 of a infinitely long 12+ step plan to become a better artist, a better person, and well, life fully and happily. I must first conquer myself, and break this stupid cycle of feeling like my life isn't progressing at the speed that I for some ridiculous reason think it should (when I absolutely know there is no "correct" speed) therefore becoming depressed therefore loosing motivation to push forward therefore not progressing at all, and shooting myself in the foot.
Retarded, but so true. It ends now, I've cleaned my apartment, I've re-budgeted and rearranged my goals and now I'm back... apologizing to the world for abandoning it...and for the time being, determined to take two steps forward before once again stumbling one back.
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