Doubt

Each year at the Winter Solstice (Yule) it is tradition to let loose something that has been plaguing you or keeping you from happiness from the previous year and open that space in your soul for something better in the next. Typically, I choose not to share what I am letting go of due to part superstition and part…well, perhaps so I am not held responsible if I can’t let it go.

Recently, I went from feeling very good and very strong, proud of my accomplishments and ability to overcome adversity to, so very quickly, trampled on and unimportant. Constantly questioning my talent, my look, my weight, my skin, my teeth, my age, my ability…my je ne sais quoi…or lack thereof.

It’s amazing how in just over two years of being back in theater I am feeling jaded…already. It’s unbelievable how many people are consumed with minutia and know nothing but superficiality as a way to interact with others. And honestly, back in my “prime” I guess I would have been right there with them. Crazy how quickly I can feel old and beaten down. I’m married. I have a child. I have a job. These things I have worked so hard to obtain and much of the world sees as great accomplishments and yet for these things in the theater community I often feel cast out. No pun intended. The general air of noxious, snobby theater folk has attached itself to the insides of my nostrils and is poisoning my brain. You can also refer to this deadly jade gas as Doubt.

What am I doing? Am I meant for this? Am I a fit? Do I still love this? Is it worth it? Where is this leading? I am experiencing a lack of excitement for the first time. I’m not beaming with pride. Based on some recent experiences I now know I hate being in the shadows. I hate being forgotten. I hate not mattering. I hate playing second fiddle. And the fact that I am makes me think that is where I belong. Some fucked up poetic justice for all those that have hated me and wished ill of me. I feel like I am pushing and yanking and gripping and stomping to make myself seen and matter. To be good enough…story of my life. The Doubt is making me see and hear things and look at myself crooked.


I’m past my prime though I am in the best shape of my life? It’s pathetic and completely discouraging. And I while I watch I realize I don’t have time to wait and see. Because while I do my body gets older, my voice gets tired, and my pockets get emptier and I feel more and more lost. I take the Doubt monster’s hand, it pricks my finger.


How frustrating to be an “almost”. I can sing, but wasn’t given a high belt range. I can dance, but wasn’t given a great extension and ability to leap & turn like one needs to. I can act, but not well enough to get back 10 years. I’m pretty, but not a stand out. I need all sorts of improvements done on my skin, hair, teeth, tits. I’m fit, but not enough to be a model. And hell, my tattoos are my tattoos, but I’m not freaky enough to fit in that niche. Ugh. This horrible limbo I’m in! Vomiting Doubt now.

Someone recently said, “You had your chance and you blew it”. It was sobering. That person was right. Horrid. Maddening as all get out. Nails on a chalkboard to hear. Yes, I screwed up big time in my youth. I made some stupid, horrible choices and I lie in it if not roll around and paint myself up in it daily. Isn’t it punishment enough that I get to see all the people I knew in college and high school become something great while I struggle to get seen in a community theater setting like Phoenix? The word Doubt begins to seep through my pores.

We’re taught to dream and dream big. We are told we can achieve our dream. Am I that naive still? Why can’t I have my dream?!?!? I have tried to right my wrongs. I have tried to walk the straight and narrow. I have worked hard and shown as brightly as the fire in me will burn. Was it simply not meant to be? All sense has been consumed by the black hole of Doubt.

Therefore I come to this: I don’t know if I’m mentally capable of being in this mess. I don’t know how much longer I can handle the rejection. Not necessarily the rejection by others, but the twisted rejection of myself. I am a harsh judge and jury. Ready to throw the gavel down quickly. I am forever on the stand. Yes, I put myself up on display so others can window-shop, point fingers and criticize then giggle BUT at the same time, I stand outside of myself in disgust and just watch because I am the executioner too. What a disgusting projection of DOUBT I have become.

This sweet little house in Doubt-land is why I could not survive in New York. All the exciting unsureness has gone out the fun house and it’s just plain frightening in Doubt-land, but I don’t know how to leave. I come to a window and look out and see others smiling at me and waving and laughing out in the sunshine. I don’t know how to get to the door and surely jumping out the window is not a safe escape. Maybe when I get the proper Doubt-house turnouts or some other type of fun house armor I can come back and play, but I’m just not “suited” for this. Being in this “play” land is supposed to be fun and it is often, but I dare anyone who comes to visit tell me they never trip, fall and roll around with Doubt. Unfortunately for me, I can’t help but land in the Doubt barbed wire.

There has to come a point when you must stop feeding the monster because it will become Audrey II or Venom and completely consume everything you know and love. It will attach itself to you and feed on everything negative in you until there is nothing left.

I guessDOUBTmaybeDOUBTthrowing a rock at the window is a start. PerhapsDOUBTif I shout loud enough one of those happy folks down there will see me and be able to help?DOUBT

Hopefully it’s not too late…