At the end of last month I was feeling exceptionally depressed. I’d let a big opportunity fly, a competition that excited me. But despite the fantasies I had of winning, deep down I knew that I never would.
At the same time a second different opportunity had come up. One in comedy that I had last flexed my muscles at over 5 years ago. It depressed me thinking that I wasn’t ready. Maybe next year. Another time. I’m ugly. I’d never be good enough.
Speaking to a bunch of people, they told me there was nothing to lose.
So I entered. With just a weekend to come up with something and practise it til I had it memorised.
I met old faces I hadn’t seen in ten years. Faces of people who once supported me and offered me great opportunities but who I had refused cos I was too young, too not ready, too insecure and self aware and broken. Now they ignored me. Recognised me but ignored me.
I did my bit, nervous but funny… People laughed. But I didn’t make it. I fantasised that I would. That other people were not as funny.
The one thing everyone who made it had that I didn’t was confidence and I fake calm. Two of them didn’t even get any laughs.
But I wasn’t bitter.
Sure I was disappointed.
But after a while I realised that I had fun. That I was actually pretty good. That I hadn’t failed.
I imagined trying. Working on it for a year or two. Trying to get in. Even if it’s shit. Even if it’s a waste of time.
And despite that positivity I felt, a deep brokenness reverberated in the pauses – I’m just not good enough, I’ll never be good enough, I hate myself…
And in the silence those words defeat me. I look back at all the opportunities I’d missed. All the greatness I’d once dreamt of. All gone. I don’t think it’ll ever come back.
Most importantly, I don’t know how to shake off that deep broken unhappiness. That shame. That deep inadequacy.