Acting Without the Drama

August 31, 2008. My little girl peed on the couch today.

She woke up cranky from her nap this afternoon and basically decided that temper tantrums were the order of the evening. Nothing could console her. Logic (of course) had no place in any of these “conversations.”

One of the fits revolved around a banana. She wanted a banana that was “so big,” but she had already opened up and halfway eaten one that apparently was not “so big” (I think they were actually the same size). She was so upset about the fact that we wouldn’t give her another banana that she completely ignored the fact that she had to go to the bathroom.

I think I do that quite a bit.

Please don’t misinterpret. I don’t have problems with public urination at this stage in my life. I do, however, find that I choose to disconnect from people that care about me. Someone asks me to change my behavior because they care about me, and what I’m doing is uncomfortable to them. My pattern then is that I start by spinning around in circles, emotionally doing the equivalent of throwing elbows. Then, when I get the inevitable squawks from the injured parties, I separate myself from the group (always staying close enough so that they can see what I’m doing) and pout. That pout can then turn into a temper tantrum if I’m not getting the attention I desire.

That’s uncomfortable for everyone else involved, but really it’s not any better for me. Everyone else is annoyed and possibly hurt, but I’m the one sitting in figuratively soiled pants. Not only do I have to go and clean up, I then have to do what I was avoiding in the first place when I threw the tantrum. I’m avoiding the apology.

Why is it so difficult to apologize? Why am I so willing to take it to a much more difficult place just to keep from having to say, “I’m sorry.”? That’s just stupid.

I think even more than the apology, I’m avoiding the softening that needs to happen before any honest reconciliation can happen. I don’t want to soften because I’m afraid of what I’ll find when I do.

When we encouraged my daughter to eat her banana instead of getting another one, it was intended as an act of love. We want her to learn to not be wasteful. We also want her to be able to get along with others. That means that she’s not always going to get what she wants, especially when there’s a good reason for her not to get it.

But when my friends and colleagues ask me to shift my behavior, all I hear is that they don’t love me for who I am. What a crock. What they’re potentially saying is, “I care enough about you to have an uncomfortable conversation. I want this relationship to work, and what you’re doing right now is making that challenging for me.”

Getting critiques as an actor can feel that way to us. Acting is such a personal thing that criticism can feel very personally hurtful. We then spin; we throw elbows; we pitch fits; or on the other hand we grovel. We begin to self-flagellate, because on some level we know that if we’re ragging on ourselves, other people usually stop critiquing us. Either way, we’re missing some really useful information.

And ultimately, don’t we usually end up reconnecting at the end anyway? We soften and come back. Instead of going through all the middle crap, why can’t we just soften in the moment? If we disagree with a critique once we’ve really taken it in and processed it, that’s our prerogative as an artist. But if we’re trying to fight against it, that’s a pretty big clue that they may be on to something.

So, let’s soften. Let’s stay open and connected, even when it feels really uncomfortable (because it will ).

That’s definitely a better place to be than sitting on the couch in a puddle.

Rate it: 1 2 3 4 5 (2 ratings)	Email it