I can pretty much say that for most of my life I have felt varying levels of discomfort within myself at all times. In the past year, I have succeeded in feeling comfortable more of the time than ever in my life. When discomfort does hit, my impulse is always to move through it as quickly as possible so that I can feel comfortable again. I finally figured out how to move through it most of the time! How exciting right? Except not really because here I am knowing that even though I have been severely uncomfortable for most of life, it is in the embracing of that discomfort where I find my most creative voice lives.
Today, I speak of this discomfort in relation to myself as a writer. I know in the deepest part of my gut that the plays I have to write first are pretty autobiographical in nature, primarily because these are stories that desperately need to be told with the main aim at humanizing the other. While it is very exciting to know exactly what one must do in their life in any respect, let alone as an artist in this world, I find it extremely terrifying! I have begun writing two plays, and let me tell you, it has not been any sort of walk in the park! I am so severely uncomfortable while writing and while being read out loud in studio classes! I actually sort of hate it because I want to throw up all the time, and I feel like a busted open ulcer BUT hey. It’s worth it. I am now stable enough in my life that I can embrace times of artistic discomfort while still knowing that I am indeed a healthy human being. WOW say that out loud of myself why don’t I?
Now, I must admit that as a human being I am always working through the kinds of discomfort that plague me and which ones I can do without. I can proudly say though, that this ability to even create these boundaries and to pick and choose which discomforts are healthy and which are toxic and need to be uprooted, is a life goal I didn’t even know I needed to accomplish. But here I am. 25 today. Alive. Who knew I’d make it here. Who knew.