My show ended in London. When I started to write this blog it had only been one day and I was in mourning. On the last night a woman asked me how I deal with the constantly critical loop tape playing in my head as it does in hers. I told her it was my last night and the following day I was sure the recordings of not being good enough would probably make a come-back.
While doing the show, I let myself off the hook for a change and did something I never do: nothing. If I ever did nothing in the day in my usual life, I would need to have a note from my doctor saying I was dying. From the shame of doing nothing, I would have to give myself a real mental whipping. I suppose my parents handed over the whip and I'm still using it. I had the best time during those non-scheduled, non-busy days, I could read, write and watch TV in peace and just enjoy everything. I felt free from having to fill my head with news and gossip because in my mind, if you're not doing something then you better know something.
When I wasn't working in the past I'd feel obligated to start cramming myself with information; what disasters are happening in the world war-wise, airplane-crash wise, inflation-wise, hurricane-wise and Jeremy Clarkson-wise; the list is endless. When I don't work I start feeling like, "Dear God, who will want to see me if I don't have news or gossip to spew out?"
While I was doing the show, I didn't have to keep my head stuffed because I reasoned with myself I had to keep my mind clear to remember all my lines. Two days after the show closed, I got on a plane and flew to Australia to start my tour there. How's that for escaping those bullying, in-coming thoughts? As if you can use distance in mileage to get away from them?
Now, I'm here in Aussie land and have to start hustling to sell tickets. I sold out in London, feeling great but every time I get cocky, pretty soon afterwards, I get kicked in the ass by karma. I've tried to be a narcissist but I never get away with it. I would say I'm not just a glass half empty kind of girl but a broken into a million pieces, shattered on the floor. Our old habits of thinking hold us hostage through life, to a point.
Here's my reason for practicing mindfulness, the wound isn't so open anymore I know it sounds like it is but it isn't; it's more of a scar now that's faded with time. What mommy and daddy did can never be erased. The only way I could shout and rave at them would be if I dug them up and that wouldn't be right, even I know that. So doing mindfulness, I just sit and listen to their recordings without responding or letting them get to me and hurt so much. That is my definition of forgiveness not just to them but also to me. If I buy into those comments, I'd be heading to Hell again and making my life miserable. If I let them play and think, "Bring it on," then they weaken.
If you face the monster it loses it's power and slinks away. That's a glass getting fuller again.