Breathing to Impress

The goal of making an impression is normally not a bad thing. Whether it be at a job interview, an audition, or a date, trying to create a positive reaction usually pushes our motivation. But what happens when your entire existence circles around getting that "thumbs up" from someone who may or may not even make a lasting impression in your life? Well my friends, not a whole lot of good. 

I have lived my whole life centered around impressing those around me. Whether it be about my intelligence, talent, or humor, I have made myself to believe that I always have something to prove. I guess it started when I was a child, when my bubbly and hyperactive personality was just too much for the kids on the playground, and therefore, I tried so hard to get them to like me by developing hobbies I thought would make me seem interesting. Fast forward five years into my high school days, and meet my greatest struggle today: thinking when I perform, I have to prove to others the quantity of my talent. 

These are the huge pains in my ass. The very thing that can turn a good day into a bad day. The funny thing is, I recognize now how awful these habits really are. I just can't seem to shake out of it. No matter how many friends I have, or how many performing opportunities I earn, there always is that voice in my head saying, "you are only good enough if [insert any name here] thinks so". 

A week from today, Fangirl opens. And holy moly, am I excited. But holy God, am I petrified as well. Being a newcomer to the theatre, I feel like I almost have to prove that I deserve to perform my character. And what if I completely fall on my face trying to do so? I don't want to make this show like every other role I have had, where the only thing circling around in my mind is "what are they thinking?" or "okay, let me prove to them I don't suck". And by proving to them, I think that will somehow prove to myself  that I have something special to offer. But I can be told how talented I am until the cows come home. I'll believe it for a second, then hate myself for trusting in their compliments. On Tuesday, I had a break through in rehearsal. I finally performed for the love of the character and the show as a whole. And Oh my God, was it magical. I never felt so in control. Sure, I was still in my head, but it became more about the character, rather than my need to prove to others that I am good enough to be on the stage. Yesterday, that need came back again. I am trying however to use that as a reminder to keep myself in check rather than hate myself for it, and not allow my own insecurities to get the best of me. 

What I am noticing is that when I focus on other's opinions of me, my mood shifts very quickly. I think that I have developed some shame within myself for desiring the approval of others. Like because of my irrational need to impress, I am ignoring the beauty of what life and performing have to offer. I am certainly not giving all of myself to a role and that kills me. But I know I can't be too hard on myself. You can't practice something for 15 years, and expect it to drop it in only one. It takes time, discipline, and self love. And really, I haven't had consistent practice of any of that for a while. 

So here is to trying. And taking account that my frustration with the whole issue is a sign that I am ready to give myself more love. It will be hella freaking hard. But I have to do it for my health. 

Now, let me ask you: what do you try to impress others with? How does it make you feel? Let's share, let's chat. I am sure we are not alone. 

Am I Crazy?

Having a mental disorder (or multiple) can make you feel like an absolute basket case. I cannot tell you how many times I think about all of my issues, and I look in the mirror say "Jesus Christ, what the hell is wrong with me?"

This is where I worry. What if there is something seriously wrong with me? How could someone with so many mental problems still be considered "a normal human being", or at least, someone allowed to function in everyday life.

I start to make myself feel undeserving. Like someone as "screwed up" as me is just too weird to hang out with everyday people.

 But here is the thing: what does normal even mean?

On Friday night, I had a panic attack. I lost control of my mind. I could feel my blood rushing like a facet. I couldn't stop myself from crying.

A friend of mine picked me up, and we talked in a Toys R Us parking lot. I started to express to him my feelings, how insane I felt, how frustrated I was with who I am. 

Me: I just don't think I'm normal.

Him: Okay, but what is normal? What society says normal should be? Who really is normal? 

This realization has stuck with me since then. I keep replaying the sentence over and over in my head, and this morning, I had another moment. I was curling my hair. Listening to my Pandora. Trying to get in a good mood for my Q2Q later this afternoon. Suddenly, a rush of guilt started to overwhelm me. I started to wonder how I could ever accept myself, and if really, anyone could deal with someone like me. I then listed all of my issues. Depressed, anxious, symptoms of OCD, highly sensitive, you know the drill. I began to feel terribly insecure about myself. "Wow, I really am a screwed up mess".  

His very voice popped into my brain. And then I felt a sense of relief. Because what is normal anyways? Who determined what it means to be normal? Is it something that even exists, or is it just what we pretend to be when we walk the streets? 

Everyone wears a mask. Some wear it religiously. Others take it off only when around certain people. We control what we want others to know about who we really are. So no, I am not what society perceives as normal. But I doubt anyone really is. We all have things in our makeup that flies a little off the spectrum of who a "normal person" should be. That is what makes us special. That is what allows us to make a difference in the world. This world has encountered some of the greatest walks of life who completely revolutionized how our world functions today. Albert Einstein, Judy Garland, Marilyn Monroe, Sylvia Plath; all of these individuals and more were considered to be crazy.  And the sad truth is, they weren't crazy at all. They just needed to be understood. 

Today, I am vowing to embrace what makes me so different. I will no longer be ashamed of who I am, or what I do. I was made this way for a reason, and with all of my "craziness", I will try to do something remarkable.

Now, I ask you, what makes you different? Was there ever a time you felt completely misplaced from the rest of the world? Let's embrace together the beauty of our oddness. 

Cliche Introduction

I've tried to do this sort of thing before about a year ago. I was eighteen, in the middle of a mediocre post-high school-graduate-meltdown, and barely starting my second week of community college. I was looking for a change in my life, or rather a way to cope with the new changes of my life. But with all things, after three weeks I forget my password, and created a new Tumblr where I have been ranting on for the last two years. Go figure. I guess I feel with these sorts of blogs you have to be inspirational. Each entry needs to have a "you can do it, I did" sort of approach. However to be frank, my inspiration engine is having some trouble starting up right now. So, can I promise you that you will find some magical, life changing awakenings here? Absolutely not. But, I can promise to be honest with you. To share my own struggles. To give you something to relate to. And for a newly turned twenty year old who still lives at home and has access to free food on a daily basis, that's all you can ask for right?

Alright. Enough of the chitter chatter. I guess I should tell you who I am. Really. 

The Basics: Twenty. Female. Feminist. Theatre major, and local actress wherever I can get by bus or kind friends. Alexxis Briviesca, entering her third year of community college (and hopefully her last) to walk the stepping stones to having a successful, professional acting career. Loud laugh. Loves to dance to Ariana Grande and the Pop Hip Hop Pandora station, usually at 6 am. Aggressively loyal to her friends. Enjoys eating avocado and tomato toasted sandwiches. Talks 50 miles a minute.

These are what I like to call "the makings of my mask". The mundane facts about me. The identifiers of my name. The simple quirks about me that I allow strangers to see.

But, what lies behind it?

The Bare Face: Insecure. Having severe symptoms of depression and anxiety (yet to be medically taken care of) for a year and a half. Jealous. Obsessive. Highly sensitive. And sometimes, dangerously lazy. 

Still want to get to know her? Well, alright. You have been warned. 

I'm a woman of many layers. As each person is in the world. Some may say I'm crazy, (which hell, you aren't wrong). Some may say I'm just too sensitive. Whoever Alexxis is to the outside world, the person inside of her is barely getting to know her. And the discoveries are sometimes less than pleasant. And other times, they are encouraging. Like we are told everyday, these are the years where life is a bitch. And finding who you are is like searching for loose change so you can eat lunch. Hopeful. Disappointing. Frustrating. And overall, just a huge mess. 

So, I encourage you to come on this ride. I will try to post something at least once a week. Probably just for myself. But if any of you care to join me, maybe this can be a cool bonding experience. I guess we shall see.