I’m sensitive. I want people to like me and think I’m funny. Revision: I want the people who I care about to like me and think I’m funny, to respect me and need me in their lives. Sometimes I confuse what I want and disillusion myself into believing that I want all people to like and respect me. While that would be nice, it’s not reasonable or feasible because there are a lot of idiots out there, as well as people who will never genuinely gel with me, and people who are so unhappy with their own lives, they can’t look past them to see value in anyone else. At 30, I can accept that. It has taken this many years to figure it out though.
Before I left my hometown, the problem of oversensitivity paled in comparison to others I faced, namely: not being taken seriously as a young female professional, not trusting myself to make choices about my future, not trusting myself to be good at what I do and accepting that I’m good at it. But now, I’m not surrounded or buoyed by my hometown cocoon. I often fight feelings of loneliness, because although I have friends here in Southern California, many of my closest friends are an hour south. Nobody is genuinely far away because I can always pick up the phone, but I miss being a part of something bigger than me, which has defined me in ways I am always surprised by. On my last visit home, I was able to perform for most of my friends and my parents, all who had previously not seen my stand-up. It’s great to do your hometown, because people are going to love you simply because they know you. It’s not a hard and fast rule, but it generally applies.
The laughs were huge. I felt great. One friend told me, “Your material, demeanor, and vibe on stage is headliner stuff all the way.” Another friend recently told me, “Thanks for not only not sucking, but being by far the best of night. Massive relief washes over me. You’re fucking great.” (Mom, Dad…I’m aware that I posted the word fucking. I think we’re going to have to get past the fact that I may be using foul language because this is a part of the business I’m trying to get into. I promise I will always try to be as lady like as possible within that realm, will always do my best to do right by others, will stay humble, will be grateful and will pay forward whatever kindnesses have been bestowed upon me. That being said, you don’t always have to like what I do, and you don’t have to watch/read everything. I’ll do my best to make you proud and know that I will forever be a grateful, loved, loving, faithful and proud child)
Even though everything looks great on the outside (new job, great hair, smiling face, new apartment, comedic successes albeit small ones), the inside isn’t always great. I get sad. Really, though, moreso than sad, I feel like I’m in a state of melancholy. I stay there for a few days and something happens or nothing at all, and the fog lifts and I feel good again. I think this is part of the grieving, and part of the moving on. But, sometimes, I just feel so terribly lonely. Even though I know I am not the only person who feels this way, and even though I know I’m not really alone.
At those times when I am lonely, I remember a few things: life is a thousand times better than it was and it keeps getting better, I’m working towards goals and I’ve been appreciating the ones I’ve set, and most importantly, I need to enjoy this moment. I’ve started doing something which might is helping me with my sensitivity. In those moments when I feel really good, like right after a great set, I try to latch onto that feeling and revel in it, so later on when I don’t feel good about myself, when I’m lonely, when I’m sad, I recall those moments, and I slip it on like a mental Snuggie and try to settle into it. When I re-open my eyes, I don’t feel so bad. I hope this is a good thing, but I worry that all I’m doing is breaking my sorrow into little parts and moving it around my life. Those little parts will inevitably resurface, most likely at a time I am not prepared for.
I do not want to be the type of person who worries constantly, and I am not. But, I take things too hard, when I don’t need to. I have to remember that every single thing that happens TO me is not a reflection OF me. I also know I am not the only person who feels this way. I just miss that part of me who really liked myself, no matter what. I hope she isn’t gone forever.