Give Up Already

I was originally going to call this article

“The Worst Moment of My Professional Career”,

But wasn’t sure if that quite summed up

What I was trying to say…

Anyway.

It’s a tricky one.

Hear me out.

Once upon a time,

I was rehearsing a play.

At the time,

The rehearsal room

Was my favourite place in the world. 

More than even performing the show itself,

In front of an audience,

I love working in a creative space, 

Where I felt encouraged to explore,

To play,

Be curious,

Be generous,

And vulnerable.

It’s was my happy place.

Don’t get me wrong. 

Of course,

Rehearsal rooms can also feel like hard work.

Places of deep frustration, even fear.

Especially when we’re delving into

Work that scares us or

Trying to create something

That we’ve never done before.

But the point is,

It’s a safe environment. 

Or at least that’s how I felt

A rehearsal room should be.  

However…

On this particular show,

I was having a really difficult time with

A work colleague.

We didn’t see eye to eye

On a number of things,

Both within the rehearsal room

And outside of it.

And after multiple

Interactions we shared,

I was experiencing 

 The lowest self-esteem I’d ever known.

Every day I felt sick going in to work.

I felt like me and my work were being judged

And I was beating myself up for it

And feeling angry at those around me.

It caused serious bouts of insomnia.

I wouldn’t sleep for days on end.

I was breaking down into tears regularly

Out of pure exhaustion.

But… I kept pushing.

I went to the doctor,

Got some pills to help me sleep

And kept showing up.

I would smile and nod,

Tell everyone I was doing fine.

Because I was telling myself: 

“I’ve already done the work”

“I can do this on my own”.

So outside of complaining to my partner,

I never really reached out for help.

During the rehearsal period…

I lived inside my head.

And let me tell you,

It was not a fun place to be.

Constantly ruminating.

Constantly thinking horrible things about myself,

And everyone around me,

Creating narratives that people hate me.

Especially my favourite work colleague.

And then, of course,

People started to  take notice.

Which only made things worse.

Because now not only did I not feel myself,

People around could tell.

I felt defensive.

I felt vulnerable.

I felt like everyone was watching me.

Silently judging me

And my behaviour.

So I made myself smaller and smaller and smaller

In that room.

Until it was like I wasn’t there at all.

***

This went on for weeks.

It was overwhelming at the best of times,

Torturous at the worst.

The lack of sleep meant I was constantly

On edge.

And every insignificant interaction became a

Violent storm in my mind.

Until finally…

It all came to a head at an event

In the Rehearsal Room.

Where members of the public

Were invited into our space,

To watch us rehearse,

And ask questions,

To be present.

And of course…

I end up sitting right next to

My favourite work colleague.

I remember vividly 

Waiting in a row of chairs in front of the audience,

Aware of them watching me as we

Watched the chosen cast members

Rehearse their scenes and answer questions.

I was lost in a dark cloud of thought.

Present, but not really there.

And all I could think was: 

“Of course I wasn’t chosen to perform.

My work is not good enough,

I’m not good enough

He hates me. 

He fucking hates me. 

Why the fuck does he hate me”? 

On repeat. 

Then someone passed me a microphone. 

It was my turn to answer a question. 

I didn’t want to speak.

I couldn’t think of anything worse

Than speaking in front of a room of

A hundred people right now.

But… shaking,

I took the microphone and stood up.

I’d never experience an anxiety attack before. 

It was not at all how I imagined. 

My vision turned red. 

Not a metaphor. 

Literally… 

The whole room appeared as if

I were looking through a red filter.

I couldn’t hear myself speak. 

I couldn’t see anyone’s face. 

I felt like I was underwater.

I felt like I was drowning.

Alone. 

And my heart. 

My heart… 

It was so painful, 

I felt like my chest was going to explode.

I don’t remember breathing. 

But somehow, I do recall

Stammering out something like:

“The rehearsal process has been really difficult” 

My head was spinning.

Vision now beginning to turn dark and blurry.

And I felt just as I was about to pass out…

My colleague said quickly-

“Thank you, Damien” -

Took the microphone from me… 

And I sat down. 

After a minute,

When I came back down to earth,

I was so confused. 

And disorientated.

I felt like running out of the room. 

I felt like screaming-

“Fuck this”!

“This can’t happen to me…”

“I’ve done all the work”. 

“I should be able to handle this”!

Hmmmm…

If I take a moment to look back,

It’s only now that I can really

Appreciate what was happening.

“This can’t happen"

“I don’t need help”

“I’ve done all the work”. 

“I should be able to handle this”

“Can’t”. “Should”. “Shouldn’t”.

Yeah…

But little damo…

The fact is-

I wasn’t handling it.

It was the lowest moment I’ve ever experienced

In my career and

Even recalling that time feels raw

Because I don’t know

That I’ve ever felt so out of control.

So helpless.

A real rock bottom moment.

***

Why am I telling you this?

Well… I used to be

The least outward facing “self-care”

Kind of person.

Because when I thought of the words

“Self Care”

I pictured a woman reclining on a couch

In a fluffy bathrobe,

Reading a book with a cup of tea.

Which honestly,

By 35 with two kids…

I think that sounds

Absolutely amazing.

But I didn’t grow up like that.

I grew up thinking that

Working hard and pushing through pain

Was something to be admired.

Something to be proud of.

That if you weren’t producing

Blood, sweat and tears

Every time you went to work,

Then you weren’t really working.

And this mentality

Got me pretty far.

I did work hard,

And continue at times to do so.

But something I realised is

That caring for yourself…

Doesn’t always look like a

Woman with a cup of tea on a couch.

Sometimes…

Self care is giving up.

Giving up on the shoulds

Giving up pretending to be okay.

Giving up pretenidng that I know what I’m doing.

Giving up on the pride in suffering,

Giving up for a moment, on feeling like I’m able.

And allowing myself

To just be.

And know that it’s okay.

Sometimes self care is

Reaching out for help.

Because even though

I could feel and see myself

Spiralling in that rehearsal room,

And I truly believed that I knew what to do,

I still needed a helping hand. 

At the time,

I didn’t reach out to anyone

Because I felt like I should be able to handle it

All on my own.

But what I really needed

Was a gentle reminder…

That it was okay

To not be okay.

It was okay to not have all the answers.

And that it was okay to feel horrid

And upset.

To allow myself permission

To be where I was at,

And give up on where I think I should be.

Because trying to start moving forwards

From anywhere but exactly where you’re at

In a one way ticket to

Feeling caught in a perpetual spiral going

Nowhere

***

There’s two little exercises that

Might be useful for those

Who are interested.

Take a few minutes to journal.

Recall a time when

You experienced

Your body trying to protect itself.

This might have been a moment

Of great overwhelm…

Or perhaps it was as simple as

Getting a heart flutter

When ordering from your local barista.

Free-write for seven minutes.

What did you notice internally?

What physical sensations popped up?

What were the signals?

How did you feel?

Then

Journal your internal dialogue.

What thoughts sprang to your head?

What stories are you telling yourself?

Then give yourself some space.

Is there a lesson there?

No good bad, right or wrong.

Just curious.

***

A few years after that moment

In the rehearsal room,

I was working on a different show. 

A television series. 

Big money. 

Even bigger personalities.

High pressure. 

And I encountered another

Extremely tricky person.

We shared a trailer and a lot of scenes.

It was a pivotal on set relationship.

But once again,

We were very different people

With very different values

With very different methods of giving our work.

And I could feel myself going into that place.

The body feelings,

The heady place of negative judgment…

But this time,

Instead of trying to push through,

I put up my hand. 

“I need help”

I emailed my coach immediately.

And spent a few sessions

Really unpacking what I care about

And how I wanted to proceed

To give my work on set.

She helped me gain clarity

And reminded me of my values.

And sent me on my way. 

And what could have turned into another

Rock bottom anxiety attack

Turned into the most confidence building experience

I had working on that show. 

And for the record,

Since that day in the rehearsal room,

I’m yet to experience another anxiety attack.

So here’s to making sure

I keep reaching out when I need to.

In a world that feels like it

Celebrates winners

And turns its back on losers,

And pushing to be the best

Is top of the agenda,

Taking the time to

Acknowledge where you’re at

And give up on where you think you should be

Can feel scary…

It takes courage.

But perhaps hitting rock bottom 

Helps us know which way is up. 

Sometimes all you gotta’ do is put up your hand

And ask for help.

Have fun out there.

Dx