Emotions And The Art Of White-Knuckling Through Them

I am a codependent. This sentence from my mouth has been 35 years in the making. And what that means, is that I hide any and every emotion that isn't happy, or happy-related. I stifle them. Shove them aside. Ignore them and let them rupture on some poor unsuspecting person, typically my partner.

What happens, is I am incapable of handling anything of my own, other than 'joy.' It's the only acceptable emotion I was brought up with. But, it's not as if I'm inept to what sadness, anger, or fear feel like. I just prefer to handle it in other people. I am attracted to others that feel ALL THE THINGS. I can solve those problems. I can solve those problems, for you.

For as long as I can remember, people have always said, “Wow, Maggi, you are always so happy!!” And when I wasn't acting particularly elated, as folks are used to seeing, they'd say things like “OH MY GOD WHAT”S WRONG?! Why aren't you happy?!” I'd feel frustrated and isolate myself because, I felt, fine. Just not, over-the-top, all Mickey-Mouse, hippity-skippy, kind of happy.

The truth is: it was over compensation for the fact that I couldn't handle any other feeling. At all.

But here's what happens when you realize you have this problem called codependency. All those feelings that you ignored for the past 35 years, Maggi, have finally come to the surface. And you can't, and won't for the sake of your recovery, ignore them. Or stifle them. You have to white-knuckle through them. Which is so awkward. It's hard. And let me tell you, it seems as if there isn't enough Advil and Kleenex to help get through it.

I cry on jogs. I cry in the shower. I cry when I'm driving. I cry when I'm eating. I cry because I accomplished something. I cry because of cat videos. I cry because I'm too angry to express how I feel. I cry like a baby because I don't know how to get what I need. And it is frustrating when I feel like I should have all of the tools to get what I emotionally need, but can't figure out how to express that need.

I am a codependent, and I don't want to be bubbling under the surface angry any more. So through therapy, and some deep, emotional work, I am recognizing that all of these feelings are just feelings. Not facts. Like clouds, the feelings will pass.

On paper it seems so easy. In real life, I'm a mess. When all of the past jealousies, hurts, fears, set-backs, and angry feelings come toppling down on me like Nickelodeon slime, I'm confused. I don't know which feeling is which. I don't know how to handle them responsibly. So I just sit in my car and cry. Or cry into my soup. Or let the shower wash away the tears. So many tears.

I don't know how long this will last. Hopefully not forever (fingers-crossed). And I pray, that as those feelings become easier to discern, I will become better at learning how to cope and ask for what I need to deal with them. Then those feelings can pass, like a rainstorm always does, and hopefully, one of those times, it'll leave a rainbow. (Yep, you guessed it, I cried just writing this paragraph).

I picked Mary Lambert's "Secrets" because if you listen to the pre-chorus, she says "They tell us from the time we're young/ To hide the things that we don't like about ourselves/Inside ourselves"

This couldn't be more accurate. I'm feeling all the feels. And for the first time, that is ok!

Trip To Washington DC: A Politics Free Political Talk

Last week I had the very distinct pleasure of traveling back East to the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia) area. That's part of why I love traveling...you learn about local stuff...like how that area is called the DMV. No wonder everyone is terrified of Washington! Stand in line for 6 hours just be told you were in the wrong line and then they close down for the day so you have to come back and try all over again!

The trip was pretty special and important. I was meeting my boyfriend's mother and best friends for the first time. Both encounters went smoothly and I relished in how much Chad laughed and seemed so relaxed and himself, in their presence.

But that's not what this is about. This is about Washington DC. Our nation's capital! We spent our last day in the DMV touring the National Mall which induced an unexpected emotional roller coaster. I was excited at first, admittedly, for the Instagram photo opportunities. What I was not prepared for, was the weight the momuments and the tourists surrounding them would place on me.

It was hot. Sticky. Humid. We were wet to the touch before we even got started. (Hence the frizzy hair!) There were three things I wanted to see: a museum, the WWII monument (its new-ish), and the Lincoln Memorial. What I didn't know, is that my agenda included a four mile walk one way down the National Mall. If you go, rent a bike. And go in late September when it's not so humid.

So we walked up to the Natural History Museum. This was directly across from the IRS building, so we appropriately gave the building the finger and continued on our merry way. We had to stop for a twisty cone first, because, vaction. Then meanered through 3 floors of awesome dinosaurs, gem stones and terrifying underwater creatures! There was a butterfly exhibit I wanted to see that was closed, but the Hope Diamond was there and I've never seen anything so big, and almost fake looking. Beautiful though! The air conditioning was a nice break, but unfortunately, the free museum closed at 5;30. So our walk began...toward the Washington Monument. The tallest feature in the city.

 

 As my boyfriend has walked these museums and these monuments countless times, he shared stories and fun conspiracy theories of earthquakes in West Virginia that could have been nuclear bomb testing, and explained why the monument was two-toned!











We strolled down toward the WWII memorial and I saw The White House to our right. Looking at the pictures again, the flags are all at half-staff, because we were mourning Sen. John McCain. We were not in town for the massive brigade and funeral, but I did feel a deep sense of pride the rest of the walk in our country despite what is happening inside the White House and the media frenzy surrounding it. (Notice all the people outside the gates!)





Next up, was the WWII Monument. Massive! It took up an entire city block. You could stick your feet in the water and watch the fountain spray back and forth while you take in the 56 pillars that represent the 48 states at the time and 8 territories. I didn't anticipate sitting there watching so many people with their feet in the water feeling disrepected on behalf of the soldiers who went to battle. I didn't expect to feel angry it took us so long to make this tribute to those soldiers and their families. I also didn't expect to feel united with all the people that suffered having to watch their loved ones leaved for battle. Because as this Colonel said, "This was a people's war. And everyone was in it."

Down the reflection pool we go. I now know why they call it that, because not only does it beautiflly refect the monuments, but its a good long walk to think about all the mosquitos. No, just kidding, it was a wonderful walk discussing with my boyfriend why white was the chosen color for the city. Why Martin Luther King's memorial was so small in comparison (maybe because he wasn't a president?) And how shockingly it felt like I was in an episode of House Of Cards.



The Lincoln Memorial must have been the hot touristy spot because it was littered with people. But as you walk through the crowd to climb the slippery marble steps, not one person was speaking English. It was like being in a foriegn Disneyland but I couldn't understand anything.

I felt naive and confused. Was there a test for citizenship and Lincoln held the answer? Were our immigrant brothers and sisters more interested in this country than those born here? The Lincoln Memorial was huge and a bit overwhelming. An important president, for sure. I felt mostly annoyed because people were a bit pushy to get their Instagram worthy photos. So we didn't stay long. The view was incredible, though!

I thought that was going to be the end of the walk, and we'd begin to hike back toward the car. However, Chad took me through the Vietnam memorial, and I didn't expect to tear up. The wall had the name of every American soldier that died, in order, on a surface that reflected...you. So it was like you could see yourself in every person that died. Only eight names were those of women. There was a wreath in the very center decorated with flowers, and around it, were police badges, cards and candles. The mood was quiet and surreal and I can't even write this without tearing up. There are over 58,000 names on that wall. There is a special book you can look up a relative or friends name, and find out what panel it is on. (I think this one just hit a little close to home because Chad and I had just watched Platoon, the Charlie Sheen film written by Oliver Stone...Stone wrote it based on his experience in Vietnam. The movie was terrifying, eye opening and heart breaking all at the same time because the soldiers saw some gnarly shit in war, and then came "home" to some just as gnarly bull-shit)

We had a comedy show to perform in that night, so we skiddadled back to the car. On the way out,

 
Chad detoured so we could go see the famous Ford Theater. It was closed, but appeared like you could go inside and take a tour to see where our 16th president was assassinated. Chad said "Now we've seen where two presidents have been shot," referring to our earlier trip to Dallas this year.

 I laughed and said "Is that our thing? We go see where presidents are shot?" "Well, there were only two, so I guess we're done with that." It was just the laugh I needed.


History is pretty remarkable when you get to see it and experience it. Plus, it's so much different in context as an adult when you can think and feel for yourself. My takeaway? Despite how dark some moments of our US history have been, I'm proud of us. I'm excited to be an American. And I think that we can continue to grow and own up to our mistakes and shine. America. Fuck yeah.

I picked Toby Keith "American Soldier" because I think every citizen is a soldier. I super appreciate and am grateful for the men and women that put their lives on the line for my freedom, but I also believe that citizens have a responsibility to stand up for this country and our culture and values. Vote. Vote with your money. Vote with your voice.

Authenticity: Real Talk

This year has been full of a lot of...training. I've been taking many steps to not only get better at my craft(s), but also get better at loving myself. Acting classes, workshops, voice acting coaches, reading any article I can get my hands on, studying comedy and stand up, practicing, and therapy. Lots of therapy.

The one common thread that weaves through all of these teachings is authenticity. Be Yourself.
Jesus, what a mind fuck that is. Right? Because we grow up doing as we're told and paying consequences for when we fuck up. We grow up learning how to do and what to be as society/family expects us to be. How do we even know who we are or how to be, authentic?

But what I've found in life, and in art, is that people like people who are themselves. Even if they're an asshole. (Perhaps we limit how much time we spend with that Uncle Asshole, but you still love them.) Because if an asshole is authentic, somehow we are drawn in. Their behavior is real and we don't get the feeling that we are being sold something.

I find that Drew Barrymore is a great example of just...being herself. She has a past with alcohol/drugs and a rough upbringing, but no one worth a damn is shaming her for it. She owns it, learned from it, and keeps going, growing and creating. It's pretty damn magical. And you can see it in her face in every photo and every movie role she plays. Every character is just an extension of Drew. Its so...authentic that we get lost in the rom com for 90 mins and love every second of it.

Authenticity, to me, means embracing every part of yourself. Owning your mistakes and not blaming others when you can't face your fears. The key here, is not blaming others. I feel like I've taken another step deeper into my true self when I realized that my mother is not to blame for my life.

Here's an example:
When I first moved to Los Angeles, I didn't have a car. I somehow managed to scrape together some cash and bought a crappy-looking-but-fun-to-drive 1999 Camaro! Not practical and terrible on gas, but I didn't care, it was mine and I loved that car! I drove down to Orange County to spend time with my mom, and this particular trip she wanted to run lots of errands and make all of these trips. I drove home in intense stop and go traffic and the entire day was too much for my little green monster and it over heated. It would continue to do that on and off for weeks until I fixed the radiator (which didn't fix anything) and then eventually had to scrap the car. (Mostly for parking tickets but that's another story).

My  mom came to visit in Los Angeles recently and again, we had a day of driving around, running errands and having lunch...just putzing around; this time in my 2006 Honda Civic. The day she went home, my car started making sounds that the transmission is about to blow up. I've been calling her the car-wrecker for weeks now. But you know what? None of that is her fault! HAHA. It's crazy coincidence. I need to face my responsibilities and take care of my shit. My mom, the car-wrecker, is still pretty funny. But I won't let that previous anger prevent me from taking care of my business.
Authenticly me. Making jokes about something that is kind of a bummer to have to deal with, but I'm dealing with it!

You cannot expect other people to help you avoid your responsibilities. Ask for help in facing them or ask for help in dealing with them, whatever that looks like. Can I borrow cash? A car? Im scared I need a hug, please.

And no one expects you to be perfect. You will make mistakes. Own them. Apologize when you realize what/why you made a mistake and then learn and grow from them.

I had to pick Taylor Swift's "Shake It Off" because she right up top owns the shit. "I stay out too late, I go on too many dates...but that's what people say." Which they say, but she's not denying either. Because the haters hate and its not going to bother her anymore. Authentic. And Real. And Beautiful.

Who Celebrates A Two Year Moving-To-Los-Angeles Anniversary Anyway?: Me.

My Two-Year LA Anniversary is this month. Someone asked if that was a big deal, I didn’t hesitate. It IS a big deal.

January has been quite the month of reflection for me. When I think back to two years ago, I remember I had locked myself in a bedroom for 3 days for fear that a man who claimed to care for me, would physically hurt me. The emotional and financial damage had already been done.

Two years ago I didn’t have cell service or a working car. Two years ago, I had late payments due on all of my bills and a foggy memory of the last time I had performed stand up comedy. I had no idea when or how I was going to get to my dream of moving to Los Angeles to pursue stand up comedy. Two years ago...I was dealing with this.

I’m resourceful and recognized what I did have...friends. I leveraged the power of social media to send out an SOS to get me out of danger. I posted that I needed help and the encouragement poured in. Friends, family, and even fans I didn’t know offered their airline miles, small amounts via PayPal, and one even called relatives near me to come and get me.

Luckily, I got out. Not untouched...but I got out.

Looking back on being in LA for two years: I’ve managed to do quite a bit. I’m proud of the places I’ve been, people I’ve met, stages I’ve told jokes on, the progress, the hard work and the memories I’ve made. I’m even proud to tell the story of how I am a domestic abuse survivor, because not everyone is so lucky. I am not so ashamed anymore to tell the story of locking myself in a bedroom for 3 days...because it just makes the last two years more impressive. To me at least.

So, is a Two-Year-Anniversary of moving to Los Angeles a big deal? It is to me...until it’s been three.

I chose Alanis Morissette's "Thank You" because I am grateful to those people who reached out, those who still do, anyone who will listen to me try tomake sense of it all, and continue to cheer me on. Thank you.