I used to be a compulsive liar. A joiner liar, meaning that whatever conversation was happening, I would join in as though I was entirely up on what was being discussed. Politics, movies, TV shows (this one always killed me – I didn’t have a TV for over 10 years), whatever it was – I was always wittily and forcefully in the know. Except that I wasn’t, I was bluffing, and eventually I started to get caught. And people (mostly my gf’s) would get hurt.
It didn’t end until the PGF came along – and somehow, I couldn’t lie to her. Because she gave me permission to not know, to be wrong, to fail, and to fuck up. In that permission, she found my truth. I found my truth. It was a pretty spectacular change.
Except that now I think I may be a different type of liar.
I can’t even tell, really, but it seems I may be lying to myself.
Where is the line between positive self-talk/hopes/dreams and downright creating a false reality?
In six months I will turn another decade. It’s a little early for my annual age-related freakout (hello, autumn in July), but I can’t help but feel like maybe I’m crazy – maybe I’ve spent too long doing the same old things and expecting different results.
When I moved to LA, I did it mostly so that I could say that I had tried. If I’m an actor, and an actor the way I want to be, then I had to really commit. Since I had given up acting when I lived in NYC, and since I had made the commitment to go back to physical theater school, and since I grew up in SoCal – well, the final commitment seemed clear.
But since then… I may be lying to myself about my level of commitment. I’ve fallen into the same old rut – the rut of chasing money at menial jobs for which I am overqualified, simply because the schedule is flexible. The rut of doing too many things for money that have nothing to do with who I am. The rut of not creating on my own, which is the only means to true success, as I’ve come to learn.
Something has to give, and soon. This practice is unsustainable, and I’m starting to lose my belief in the lies. When that’s gone… what do I do?