Phone's back on. In case you were wondering.
Apparently it wasn't not having a phone that was causing all my anxiety this week. I know that because my stomach acids are still in an uproar. My jaw is clenched, my brow furrowed, heartrate up, attention span short, all energy focused inwards. Have noticed myself gripping the arms of chairs as though suffering a rough takeoff in an airplane. I suppose I feel a bit like things are racing towards something, and, how unusual, I feel like there's no brakes and we're about to careen off a cliff or into a brick wall. I have dreams like this sometimes. And we do go off the cliff or into the wall.
It's all ridiculous, of course. I'm anxious because things are going well and the smell of success terrifies me. I mean, I have reasons to worry, but they should not cause me nearly the level of consternation and hand wringing I am experiencing. I will get over this. I will. But just at the moment I am freaking out that I won't live up to my own expectations or anyone else's. All these wonderful people believe in me so much, I don't want to fuck it up. I want to be very sure I'm making the right moves. I think I am, or it wouldn't be so scary. That's the thing, right, to choose the scariest path. Then you know for sure it's what you were meant to do. That's HOW you know what to choose.
So, here I am, following the scariest path, and someone told me today to relax and enjoy it, and I think I will, but not 'til the labour produces some fruit. Possibly as soon as the Rascalls Fringe Show opens...then...then I might relax. Maybe. We'll see. Currently not my strong suit. Tears and gnashing of teeth on an hourly basis. As soon as one person has me calmed down, I ramp up again and someone else has to talk me off the ledge all over again. It gets very real when everyone invests in you and you know that you have to produce returns on their investments. On my own investment. Gnash, gnash.
I still think, hope, that great things are going to happen for me. ARE happening for me. I get more and more scared the closer it gets. My people are telling me good things, reminding me that this is normal artist behaviour. Normal. Ha!
Everywhere I go people look at me with this funny look on their face. They stare, they cock their head questioningly. I told my friend Sparky that yesterday and she looked me dead in the eye and said in all seriousness, "It's because you're famous." I was like, not yet, and she was like, yeah, but they know you're gonna be! That was a pretty nice thing. Then Siobhan said, "Quit being so afraid of success." And I was like, I'm trying, but it's making me puke! What the fuck? I'm sure I'll calm down soon, I'm sure. So weird.
The whole experience of going where I always knew I would kind of takes me out of my body and into kind of a dream like state. In fact, it feels like dreams I've had. Just this sensation like I'm floating up off the ground. I need a tether. Eating and sex are a relief because they both require me to really be in my body, which makes me feel human again, and not ethereal. But the rest of the time...ghost city. I am vaporous. Vaporous? Is that a word? I can't tell, I'm made of steam.