work

Okay, expansion of the same themes.

*Warning: If you are growing tired of my personal what-looks-like-moaning, then please, this post is most probably not for you. Sorry.*

Singing.
For the past years, and this only applies to Estonia, I have starting getting serious work anxiety.
This does not apply to performing - when I'm on stage life is a daisy and I do what I do.
However, the pre-work period is hell.
My language skills of any language are not good enough for explaining to you just how unpleasant this is.
I'm talking constant underlying panic and genuinely just wanting to projectile vomit, mainly.
It's tiring, and idiotic, and I've grown SO TIRED of this crap.

And also, these options do not work: think less. stop worrying about it. let it go. just get over it. cheer up. calm down.
My simple answer to these is - f_ck you. This is not a solution.
Surely, I am intelligent enough to have figured any of these out myself.
Anyone who has ever had similar troubles of Da Mind will understand this well.
And anyone who hasn't, "just cheering up" is not an option.
Sadly.

Anyway.
I've got work stuff coming up, and this is so boring, so I thought I'd write about this.
And maybe I'll feel better and I could actually do my work prep without wanting to cry and die with a heart rate of 3000.

The thing is, I don't give myself credit for what I do.
And instead of understanding that people what to get in touch with me because they like me and like what I do, I feel like. Like.
Like it's a negative thing.
Instead of "YAYYY look at these amazing work e-mails and calls AWESOME, I am good at what I do YAY work YAY passion HELLO happy hormones!" my brain has SOMEHOW (!!!??) opted for the option of "NOOOOOOOOO why WHY! i'm going to die, they hate me, everyone, AGAIN these emails and things, i can't pick up the phone i can't i can't, i want to hide away in a hole so no one can see me".
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Truly, it bends my mind.
I am a clever girl, and this only emphasises the stark understanding of just how ridiculous all this is.


Hello, dear Brain.

I am a big fan of your work.
However.
Could we somehow solve this issue and could you somehow give my central nervous system the Happy command upon receiving contact from interesting, inspiring people who want to give me work because I am excellent at what I do and doing it gives me great joy.
Lay off the Panic button.
You might be drunk.
(If this is the case, go sleep it off, and resume duty.)

Yours truly.
The person for whom you should be working for.
THANXXXX.



I have got SO many excellent and super cool things coming up Jeeesuuussss and I am dying under the weight of my..(what?)..panic? fear of?
Blah blah.
Get over it, something.
I want to feel like a rainbow, not a pit of snake poison acid thunder blizzard hole.

This is my mission.
Or those of you who watch the New Hannibal: "This is my design".
(I LOVE this show.)
Or it WILL be my design once I kick this asshole out of my life.
This is what is preventing me from being Italian.
Italian's don't deal with this bullshit.
They enjoy, life and love and music, and wine and BEING.
La vita Italiana.


Seriously.

Well.
I feel much better.
I need to get all cognitive-behavioral-therapy on my own ass.
I am yet to figure out the exact actions, but I understand that this is how I'll kick it.

Yours truly.

Absolutely always.

M.