Kryptonite

I am humbled.
Again.
Duh.

By the response of so many.
To the thinks that swirl in my brain.
And make me feel crazeballs.
Instead of amazeballs.

Writing my crazy thinks down.
Is scary.
And posting them.
To the world.
That can receive them however they want.
Is scarier still.


Because you can really say and write whatever you want.
Just like me.
But I do it for two reasons.
One.
Catharsis.
And we'll come back to that.
Two.
Because I want, I think in the same way you do.
To not be and feel so desperately alone.
And when I write those thinks.
And you message me.
16 times over to my personal in box.
To say I am not alone.
or 52 times over to my Extreme Box.
and 12 times over to my contact page.

You tell me.
We are not alone.
These crazy thinks.
That get stuck sometimes.

Some of you even get to say it in person.
With a hug.
And a hand hold.
Or my personal favorites, a threat to wounded voice.
"I'm going to kick wounded voice's ass if she shows up."

And.
"I read your blog today."
And that's all you had to say.
Because I get it.
In the way.
That you unwrapped a piece of me.

But.
When TenderheartbearBestFriend said he would kick wounded voice's ass.
I had to laugh out loud.
Because.
Wounded Voice.
Well...

Wounded Voice.

She didn't show up to last night's performance.
Or this afternoons.

And it took me all morning and all of last night to figure out why.
If you know TenderheartbearBestFriend, he's just not that threatening. 
In fact, his effeminate sassy hand gestures are least threatening of all.

And Former Backstreet Boys call to, "MAN UP."
Wasn't as fierce as it may read here.
He said it with his finger in his ear.
While he impersonated Mariah Carey's All I want For Christmas.

And so I sat this morning.
Waiting for my voice to warm up.
And the amazing "Brujon".
To show up.
(He's my ride).

And something struck me.
In the way I hope it strikes you.

Wounded Voice didn't show up.
Because I told you she existed.

I told the truth.
And truth.
In it's own right.
Is wounded voice's kryptonite.

You see.
Wounded Voice comes from somewhere.

I don't have the time right now to figure out where.
And why.
And how long.

But she comes from somewhere.
And wherever that is exactly.
Is a place full of guilt and shame.

Two of the most toxic emotions.
Ever.
And on opening night there was a lot of guilt.
For messing up the show.
And shame for being chosen.
And shame for not being able to get the Epilogue.
And guilt over screwing it up for everyone.

And those two emotions.
Well.
They feed wounded voice.
Like actual food used to feed me to feel better.

They give wounded voice a lot of power.

But by Saturday night.
I had confessed to all of YOU.
That Wounded Voice was here.
And that she was using those emotions to cause sadness and pain.
And so.
Instead of showing up.
I had no food for her.

I decided.
After a really pathetic and public and embarrassing cry.
(I mean, let's be honest it's not like you just wake up and do it.)

That.
I was going to try my best.
And measure my success on my trying.
And if I tried my best and the best was what I tried.
Then.
I had done my best.
Even if  it wasn't perfect.
Or because I had a cold it was what it was.
It didn't matter beyond that.

And
That's a truth.
I didn't know before yesterday's post.
And now I do.
Truth.
Wounded Voice's Kryptonite.

Wounded Voice has other Kryptonite.
Adorable kids.
For one.
That run harmonies with you back stage.
And say you're amazing.
Wounded Voice will never speak over kids.

And Sisters.
Who love you in spite of all your crazy thinks.
Never drownd out by Wounded Voice.

And hugs.
Of course.
A new kind of kryptonite. :)
Especially Stage Manager Side Hugs.

And singing snippets from Sister Act II.
That helps.

And performing Eponine.
With this cast.
On this stage.
In this life.

That helps.

Therapy does too.
Obvs.

And B.I.G. friends who send telegrams back stage.
And neighbors who put aside their crazy thinks and come to big theaters to see Eponine.
And gym buddies who don't even say they're coming.
And do.
It's all kryptonite.

Tonight.

As I post this.
Fa├žade Self is quiet.
Little Self is happy and assured that we don't suck (that bad).
And that people actually like us.
Sometimes.

I mean, come on people, baby steps.

But it's Higher Self that I love the most.
Because she is still saying,
"There is a plan for all of us.

You are on the path.

You will get where you need to be."

And something.
Down in the basement by Little Self, believes that.

In the way that Little Self dreamed of one day playing Eponine.
And now, some 15 years later.
Gets to watch that dream come to life on stage.

We matter.
And most of all.
To your voices.
Wounded or otherwise.
I say again.
YOU MATTER.
More than you realize or accept right now.
Just as you are.
In the space you are occupying.
You matter.
And Yes, Diane.
I most of all, mean you. :)

Comments

  1. Wounded Voice didn't show up. Because I told you she existed. Let me just say: I LOVE THIS!
    I'm praying that wounded voice will fade away soon since I voiced the truth . Wounded voice is screaming at me right now though or so it seems. :(
    But I'm choosing to hear the voice of Higher Self who's voice is calm and clear. Never shouting or screaming. Just there, like a lighthouse showing safe passage to ships passing along the rocky shore.
    Jami, I just adore you and your words of truth and wisdom. I pray that you know how awesome and inspiring you are and how you give people who have crazy thinks like me are not alone. Thank you from the bottom of my heart. Diane

    ReplyDelete

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