I have an issue that I have yet to work through. I have more than one issue but today I will focus on one of the big five issue. This issue is like a cherry on top of a perfect milk shake. No more like the zit on your chain before a first date. Wait it is like starting your period before a week long beach vacation. Perfect. It is inconvenient, changes your plans, causes mood swings and water retention.
Why did this come to the for front of BCarol’s mind? I am a closeted performer. I am out of the closet for all intensives purposes but I can’t make a living at it so I consider myself in a closet. There is a role that I would like to play and I need to send the rudimentary headshot and resume. Easy enough off it went via-e-mail to the casting director. Then came the request for video of a performance.
I have dvd’s of myself dancing, sing and acting my way through productions. I can edit a minute or so of me doing the above. Easy right? Well, not so much. I was horrified. I watched myself and thought You suck! Your voice! Your movements! Dear Lord what were you thinking? I sunk low in my chair took a deep breath and grabbed a large handful of candy cane Hersey Kisses. Then I grabbed another handful of kisses and thought I wish I had made those sugar cookies.
What upsets me is less than an hour before that I going through the possibilities of graduate school in theater. Yes, I want to peruse an advanced degree in theater. Sadly, if I cannot watch myself why would I think that I could get into a grad program more or less be on stage.
Now that is the question. I have been cast over and over doing roles that were non-traditional, over the top and written for the opposite sex. Honestly, I have. I have been asked to be in shows without auditioning. I receive accolades but still manage to feel subpar, lackluster and horrendous.
I have two choices. Choice 1 the world is blowing sunshine up my skirt. Choice 2 I have issue with my self-esteem. After due thought and conversation with a friend who is also a therapist I have chosen number 2. Low-self esteem is a major short coming and I wear it like it is my job.
What to do? What to do? My friend the licensed social worker asked me something that rocked me back on my heels. “Where you sexually abused as a child” she said. The answer was an honest no. I can’t remember anything and I have volunteered with sexual assault and domestic violence programs for years. If I had I would think that something would have come to the surface and I would have faced it.
Why sexual assault? People who have been assaulted have many issues that I have. They tend to be control freaks, perfectionist, flashy dressers, sexually conservative, obsessive compulsive, overachievers and self deprecating. This list not exhaustive but it says a great deal about me. All are true.
After years of living I have learned that abuse comes in many ways and levels. I also know that abuse can affect everyone differently. For BCarol it was many cruel circumstances that caused this enigma called BCarol.
I am what was called a bright child. I was and still am empathic. I love the creative process of the arts and performance. I see the world on multiple levels at once. I see through my senses and can pull a moment into reality with the sound of a musical phrase, a shade of color or the flavor of a beloved drink. I consider myself ethereal. No, not angelic but ethereal.
My mother and father gave birth to this oddity. Yes, oddity. My parents are about as creative as a wall painted utilitarian gray. A wall that is serviceable, clean and reliable. This does not mean that my parents did not love me. I know that they did and still do. They just did not know who to feed my mind and sense of self.
My father did his best to prepare me for the world. I think he was trying to toughen me up and make me hard. Okay, that is fine and well. However something was lost in the translation. First let me share with you that I am not a pretty girl. Something a father should never share with his prepubescent daughter. I am also not the brightest I will need to work harder. Also, as a child my father told me I was fat and that no man will want me. I still struggle with my weight and sense of self value they are intertwined.
From my father’s viewpoint I understand this. It was honest and giving me the tools I needed to survive what the world would throw at me. My mother was another story. I call her the woman who cannot make a choice. If you asked my mother a questioned and expected an answer you would be sorely disappointed. Even when my mother attended college she couldn’t pick a major.
Mom wanted me to be a doctor or something important. I wanted to be a musician but that was a hobby not something you studied in college. Why don’t you become a lawyer? Why aren’t your grades better? How come you don’t… That is what I remember “how come you don’t (insert whatever).” Looking back I spent 18 years walking on egg shells and trying to make peace with what was around me. I became passive aggressive. I ate to find some kind of fulfillment. I stopped trying because what was the point. I enjoyed the wrong things. I liked the wrong people. I cried too much. I was not happy enough. You are not allowed to be angry. I am sure to this day that I breathed wrong.
18 years of programming and I cannot erase the damn hard drive. What is a girl to do? Be bitter? Hide and eat Ben and Jerry’s? Maybe? I could work on healing myself. I could learn to see myself as others see me instead of the disgusting entity that I perceive.
If rose colored glasses are a reality what color are the glasses I wear. Gray, black or even puce? Could they be scratched and flawed. Maybe they are glasses that cut out all that is bright and only shows that which is monotonous.
Maybe Jill Scott was right…
In reality, I'm gon' be who I be
And I don't feel no faults
For all the lies that you bought
You can try as you may
Break me down but I say
That it ain't up to you
Gone and do what you do
Now back to the video of my performance, one step at a time….
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