30 years ago I thought I was broken…
Something was wrong with me that needed fixing. I didn’t know how to be myself. Or rather, there were just far too many mes contending for that priority spot; jostling to get attention, bickering amongst themselves, working on the side-lines to undermine my confidence or hogging the spotlight to show their brilliance.
The professional me, the British me, the international me, the emotional me, the creative me, the crazy me, the me who adored performing for the crowds, the me I’d secretly have liked to be…
30 years on, I feel I’ve put all these mes to good use. Over the years, my clown has adopted each and every one of them at some point in order to create comedy. Turns out I didn’t need fixing after all, I needed to playfully express all of my being.
These days, I find it’s so much more fun to get out of my own way and see who I’m feeling like being today, than stick within the boundries of my self-image (a snipped, chipped and zipped version of my multi-faceted being).