You Ever Fight With Yourself?

It’s been a long, trying, and wonderful four days.

I literally haven’t stopped. I haven’t had time to think at all about my state of being or feel anything but the place of moving, doing, creating, watching, listening, and caring for an unending list of problems.

I love being in that “flow.” It fills me up. Makes me feel needed. Like I’m somehow necessary in some way. Like my existence has a reason. It’s in a state of producing rather than consuming.

That may sound odd.

But the dragon can’t roar when I don’t have time to listen to it.

So here I am…. My first evening off in a week to just sit and do anything I would like. Relax…. Read… Fall asleep….


Not good enough. How about instead, we go over the list of things in which you COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY FAILED AT YOUR FUCKING LIFE THE PAST FOUR WEEKS?


Me: But I’m running a camp of kids. And people are happy.. things are moving and we are making progress.

Dragon: Yeah but you fucked up your husband’s birthday.

Me: Actually, I thought it was successful. It was just that the date changed so much I had to do a lot of back tracking—


Me: But I planned it…

Dragon: Someone else executed.

Me: It was my idea

Dragon: Yeah, and it sucked until other people got involved.

Me: That’s bullshit.

Dragon: Nope.. you fucked up.. you couldn’t figure out how to get the right word out to everyone.

Me: I only had a week! I had so much going on..

Dragon: Oh, you mean like your call-back you were sooooo confident about? The one you completely bombed?

Me: I didn’t bomb, I just wasn’t what they were looking for, it’s not a big deal.

Dragon: It’s because you’re fat and disgusting.

Me: What? I’m running almost every day and eating nothing but fucking kale…

Dragon: Yep. While all of your skinny friends can eat whatever they fucking want, and still look perfect, and book The Little Mermaid, and work as fucking aerialists, and you still need to lose twenty pounds if you ever want to book a work in this industry. You’re NOT PRETTY ENOUGH TO NOT BE THIN. Be better at telling jokes, or lose some weight. NOW.

Me: I don’t have time for this…

Dragon: Lose some fucking weight you disgusting fucking idiot.

Me: We’ve been over this.

Dragon: Work harder.

Me: There’s literally NOTHING MORE I can do..

Dragon: Stop eating carbs

Me: You already know that’s not reasonable.

Dragon: Fuck you. Your friend did it.


Dragon: She’s skinny and she’s booking work.


Dragon: Yeah, in bullshit corporate theater jobs that no one wants. You can’t even pay your fucking bills. You have six dollars to your name right now.

Me: I JUST SPENT MONEY ON A PARTY. And rent, and taxes

Dragon: You could have gotten a job that wasn’t a fucking 1099

Me: Oh my god

Dragon: You want to make money? Get a job! You’re too stupid to be your own business! Why didnt you figure this out earlier?

Me: I’ve been making payments.

Dragon: It’s not enough. You needed a lady from the IRS to educate you because you’re a fucking moron

Me: How am I supposed to know to take the time to figure out how taxes work? I studied theater! I have four jobs! I’m spending too much time trying to figure out how to actually make money…

Dragon: That you just end up giving back to the government because you don’t know how to work the system

Me: It’s a work in progress.

Dragon: You’re a fucking idiot. Lose some weight.

Me: Oh my god. Fine….. What do you want?

Dragon: What?

Me. What. Do. You. Want?

Dragon:  …  Attention.

Me: Go on.

Dragon: I want to know…

Me: …

Dragon: I want to know that I’m making the right decisions.

Me: …

Dragon: I want to know that whatever I decide to do in the coming months is going to be fulfilling. I’m terrified.

Me: Of…

Dragon: I’m terrified that I’m not cut out for this. That I wasted too much time. That I’m not pretty and I’m not talented. And I can’t dance. And that the only reason I’m good at getting education jobs is because I’m the only idiot willing to do this kind of work… Other people would never do things like have counseling sessions with 7-year-olds… Or spend time agonizing over the right way to block 30 children in a musical number… or clean up their vomit… or fuss over whether or not they got their Camp T-Shirt in time.. or make phone calls to recreation facilities.. other people… other people book gigs… they sit around being beautiful and go to auditions, and have agents, and people that love them because they’re talented. They get paid more than I do. They get to be fussed over.. they’re beautiful by just existing… I just… I fuss over others… I go for long runs, try to be skinny, and fuss over everyone but myself…

Me: Yeah.. and you love it. Because you give a damn about people.

Dragon: Sure I do… It’s one of my favorite places to exist. But what if this is the only place I can book work?

Me: Would that be so bad?

Dragon: I have no idea.

Me: You know it wouldn’t be so bad.

Dragon: Why does it have to be one or the other? Can’t it be both?

Me: Sure it can.

Dragon: But I’m so afraid… I’m afraid I’ll blow out my voice, or I won’t give attention to the right things.. or… I’ll stop working on my craft and just spend all my time pouring into others and then my own jar will be empty.

Me: That’s an understandable fear.

Dragon: I’m so tired.

Me: … Yeah I know.

Dragon: This whole thing is just complicated. Also… I’m really really tired.

Me: I know.

Dragon: Can we just…

Me: Nope.

Dragon: But I’m so sleepy and starving. And I want to be left alone.

Me: You will be. In a few weeks. Right now you’re needed.

Dragon: Fine. But you better book work…

Me: Shut the fuck up. Go to bed.

Dragon: ….

Me: ….

Dragon: I’m hungry.

Me: Shut. The

Dragon: Fuck. Up. I know.





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