“You’re a fucking idiot.”

That’s a quote from one of the members of my little theatrical mansion-commune last night after a few glasses of wine.

He apologized this morning, assuring me he meant it ironically. Of course I knew that.

And I told him, last night, and this morning again, he was right.

This comment came out of a discussion about the boys who hover around me. There are two, both incredibly attractive, both accomplished in their fields, both of whom I’ve had a little somethin’-somethin’ with already. And both promised to come see this show, and both asked to stay over. The one I’m really focusing on is the one we’ll call “Eyes.” He said he’d come next week, and could we have a pajama party? Obviously that’s code for something. And it got me excited, because unfortunately, I’m head over heels in love with him and have been from the first moment I saw him.

The bad news is, that after an amazing, epic, seven hour “date” (which involved dancing and kissing, FYI), on the way home he told me “I have a girl in my life.” Whatever the fuck that means, it ain’t good. (For the full, unedited tale– it’s LONG– refer here: https://twirlinggirl.wordpress.com/2011/02/21/22/).

So basically, this is what it is, as elucidated by my dear friend last night:

“So this guy is an asshole who treats you badly and will continue to abuse your heart. And yet you will continue to let him. You’re a fucking idiot.

He’s right.

(ooh, that’s a good end to the entry… unfortunately I have more to say)

Yesterday in therapy, I was focusing on all the good feelings of the show and this great group of people. My therapist was guiding me through enjoying the feeling of that in my body. But then my hands flicked over my face, skimming over a pimple. Immediately, the feeling of “full-heartedness” was gone, and I couldn’t get it back.

I told my therapist that I’d lost it. She asked what had stepped into its place. I had a hard time putting it into words (therapy is hard, y’all!), but basically what it was is that feeling of: “Oh good lord, why are you happy about yourself? You are ugly and fat, and whatever specialness you feel right now is going to get shot down the second you walk into an audition room or the gym or into a theatre.”

So what is that part’s purpose, my therapist asked. What does a part whose job is to pull me back down from happiness and the feeling of being “special” into the feeling of being inadequate do for me?

I think there are a number of reasons.

1. It’s trying to protect me from getting hurt. If you’re mediocre, you’re not surprised when you encounter cruelty.

2. “Special” is a dangerous place to be. I think this stems back from early childhood, where I was popular and well-liked, without really trying or thinking about it. Then a girl came into the school, and after befriending me and taking me deep into the bowels of secret-girl-sisterhood, proceeded to tear me down, stripping me of my power, turning the rest of the class against me, and essentially turned me into a pariah. I’m genetically programmed to have psychological issues, but this bitch got those motors running full throttle.

3. And when it comes to boys, feeling mediocre and being “chosen” makes me feel special. There aren’t many ways, when I so frequently feel inadequate and ugly and like a terrible non-human, to make me feel special again. One of those ways is the attention of attractive boys. Now, this is not to say that I seek this attention out– but in the case of these two men, these two men “totally out of my league”— I continue to seek their attention because it makes me feel like less of a homely disaster. Yeah, andĀ that’s healthy.

So all of this to say, no, I’m not generally a fucking idiot. But in terms of these boys, these gorgeous, asshole boys (who I KNOW would NEVER come see my show unless there was something in it for them– “Eyes” didn’t even see my last show, in which I played the lead, even when I got him FREE TICKETS) I am a fucking idiot.

So let’s just check that off the therapy checklist of things I’ve gotta work on.

It’s getting long.

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One thought on ““You’re a fucking idiot.”

  1. You have to realize it (yourself) before you can work on it, so here you go, already half of the work done right here.

    And hey… dont we all crave ‘that attention’ every now and then..? Too bad the ‘right version’ of it is so much harder to find than the wrooooooong one..

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