All day today I am at my worst. Torturing myself with, “What if?”
What if I get fired? What if he loves someone else? What if she moves away? What if it’s bad news from the doctor? My imagination is experienced and powerful. I give my whole self to these questions that leave me in a puddle of anxiety and fear. I do the dialogue, sets and costumes and then I edit, edit, edit.
The energy that goes into this. The distraction from my own good life. The creativity misused.
Late in the day, as I tell a friend what I have been doing, she says, “Don’t try to stop this cold. You have too much of a habit and your ego just loves to make up these stories and deliver them to you. So work with it; ask your head to give you new versions of each story.”
So now, tired from a day of self-terrorizing I ask:
What if he proposes?
What if the MacArthur Foundation calls?
What if I have to give an award acceptance speech?
What if I win the lottery?