I have to consistently remind myself:
- Feeling ugly doesn’t mean I AM ugly
- Feeling fat doesn’t mean I AM fat
- Feeling hopeless doesn’t mean I AM hopeless.
This weekend I did a photo shoot for a new comp card. I was encouraged by the images, but it’s weird to look at yourself and think, oh, is that who I am? That’s how I come off? Do people like that? Do I like that?
I aced an important audition today and I think I have some really cool opportunities ahead. But I’m left feeling kind of sad tonight instead of encouraged and victorious. Worn out, I guess.
On the train back into the city, I realized,
Huh. Success may not make me happy.
Which is of course a big DUH. I mean, I’ve heard that many times, and I’m sure I’ve even said it myself before. But it hasn’t been revelatory to me. So much of my happiness is so wrapped up in how well I perform, and shouldn’t it be the other way around instead?
I don’t want this dark cloud of UGLINESS hanging over me, stealing my joy, minimizing my successes, assuring me that I got this or that by fluke.
Meanwhile, right now I just feel like curling up in a ball in my studio wrapped in a snuggie and my big red University sweatshirt and tuning out to something or other. But that’s not my plans for tonight. I have things I need to do. Not errands, but spending time with the people I love. Essential to my health and happiness. Essential to my life.
I thought about not going this weekend. Because I felt too fat and ugly and anti-social. But if I hadn’t gone I would have missed out on the incredible results from this comp shoot, and the opportunities I got today, and the people I met. I would have missed it all in favor of staying and feeling sorry for myself.
I can’t live that way.
So what do I do? I wash my hands thoroughly, I put my hair up in a “fuck you” bun, I pull on some warm clothes, and I go the fuck out. And however I am, that’s how I am tonight.