Forgetting

The thing about being an artist is that you aren't one all the time. Sometimes you're a barista, or a waitress or a sales girl or whatever other job you can tolerate. Being something else so often can make you forget who you really are; When your voice is hoarse from speaking to customers all day you can easily forget that you can sing Poulenc with perfect diction and generous artistry. When you're on your feet all day making coffee, you forget that you're really great at moving just so slow you can call it a movement. When you're trying hard not to cry because your boss is yelling at you for something that isn't your fault, you forget that you are beautiful, creative, intelligent, inspiring, hard working, funny, imaginative, giving, talented, gifted... When someone who has nothing to do with your artist's life takes a shit on you, you become a small insignificant thing in your own eyes. 

For 3 hours today I forgot completely who I was. I even had a conversation with a customer about music; I spoke about my opera career, but I didn't feel it at all; they were just words. I just couldn't stop feeling small; How can someone outside my circle of influence take up so much space in my circle of concern? Is it because I can never give my heart fully to this job and so someone can easily make me ashamed that I'm not perfect at it? Is it because I've been trained to be perfect at everything I create with my voice so when I fall short in any other area I fall to pieces? I honestly don't know why I crumble in these situations. Who gives a shit if someone who is ultimately inconsequential to my life thinks badly about me? I should fall to pieces if my father is disappointed, not someone I don't even know who only pays me so little that I have to work 30 hours a week before I can afford to pay rent and bills, never mind groceries. How could I NOT forget I have a whole other life?

In these moments, and similar ones, where I feel I've let someone down or that someone thinks something of me that isn't true, I hate myself more than I've ever hated anything in the world. It's debilitating and it's scary. Because when I'm making art, I love myself. I love the sound of my own voice, I love my melodies, I love my French diction.

I've just worked 12 hours so I'm exhausted. But everything I've just written is true and honest. Now I'm gonna go home and be with someone who loves me no matter what happened at work today. And that makes me feel better... and a bit teary.