I have an excuse for not doing pretty much anything that deals directly with performing in front of, near, around the general vicinity, or with other people. When I say “performing,” I mean drawing, painting, reciting – not singing, dancing or acting, as I would completely fall out if expected to seriously do any of those. Outside of a few karaoke ditties croaked out under the influence of many martinis, real performing doesn’t even pertain to me. But… to perform my craft in a classroom setting or plein air does, and it mortifies me.
I have made a decision, though, that it is necessary to “get over it.” I am a grown women, for Pete’s sake – I am not stuck in that nightmare where you go to school naked and are wandering the halls because you can’t find your locker. But, nonetheless, it takes a tremendous amount of anxious energy to drag myself to the arts center for open drawing studio time. I look forward to it until the day comes and I break into a nasty panic. I am proud of my work – I just can’t find my words when I have to talk about it and can’t seem to concentrate on my work or what my hands are doing if there are people anywhere close to me. As I get older, it seems I want to be around fewer and fewer people for a lesser and lesser amount of time. I love the isolation of my own studio – my own little cave. Wondering what could possibly make me such a wreck when I am doing what I love, makes me crazy and I wonder if I am just a great big crybaby dork, or if this is solvable without succumbing to Prozac. Hope to hear that I’m not alone on this – and any possible solutions… any other crybaby dorks out there?