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A Life of Honest Connection

Monday, February 20, 2012

Shattering The Waiting Game

The Waiting Game. Sounds fun. Its a game, why wouldn't a game be fun? What is it about waiting that stifles all creation?

I am well versed in creation. I am well versed in manifestation. I know that if I'm waiting for something to happen that it will never happen because the simple act of waiting for something to happen places it in the future, forever in the future. An endless cycle of waiting.

Yet, here I sit. At my desk . . . waiting. What am I waiting for you ask?

Today I am waiting . . .

 . . . to hear if we got into any other film festivals with our short "Just Like the Movies".
. . . to get paid on Friday so I can pay my bills, attend a workout class, put gas in my car.
. . . for my ankle to heal so I can work out and lose weight, get to the goal I've wanted to get to for a LONG time.
 . . . for it to be 5:00, time to go to my "support while I make it" job.
. . . for my agent to call me with an audition.
. . .  for inspiration to strike.
. . . for the life I know I'm destined to live, that I continually reassure people I know is going to happen, that I so WANT to happen, to actually start happening.

Truth be told, I live a pretty good life. I live in a great little house that I rent, have an adorable little dog, a job that provides me with a pretty good living, some amazing travel experiences, great dinners, I have my creativity, my writing, acting, singing, my health, I am part of a supportive, loving family.

You know what some of it is? I get a small amount of success, my acting career begins to move forward and I halt it. Last weekend, a short I co-wrote, co-produced and acted in, "Just Like the Movies" made its debut at the Dam Short Film Festival in Boulder City, NV. We won "Best Nevada Film", that's the section we were entered in because one of our producers lives in Nevada and we shot it in Vegas! We were called up on stage and accepted the award and I began to feel like a "real" actress. Not that awards equal being a real actress, but the entire experience of attending the festival, participating in a press conference, the Q and A afterward, all of those things are a part of the world I am forever hovering on the edge of. . . and I have a horrible pattern of putting on the brakes whenever I get close to where I want to be.

Paul Lirette and I participate in the Press Conference


Why would I do this? After some soul searching, meditation, etc, the closest thing I can come up with is that I am afraid that my success will equal people not liking me and if there is one thing that Elizabeth Mihelich doesn't like, it's NOT being liked. I can't stand it. It's just in me. I have grown over the years and have a much better grasp on this now. I can recognize that people who don't like me or resonate with me are probably not meant to be a part of my life. The little girl inside of me just feels a heart breaking loneliness at not being good enough. Where would that come from?

I have a distinct memory of an awards ceremony in elementary school, you know the one where the whole school sits on the floor and parents line the walls with cameras waiting anxiously for their kids names to be called. I remember winning an award for excellence in English, and then one in Science, and then one in something else, I won so many awards I wasn't able to get back to my seat before my name was called again. I was a very good student. I wanted to do well and I usually did. I remember being proud of what I accomplished, I remember thinking, yes, this is what I'm supposed to do. After the ceremony though kids weren't nice to me. I was teased, made fun of, and just generally made to feel bad for being so good. Success = people not liking you.
 

Having the revelation one day of this memory made me realize WHY I keep sabotaging myself. A psychic friend described it to me earlier as me standing in front of a wall built of Styrofoam blocks. It could be simply blown over, but there I stand in front of it, afraid to move, negotiating with it, talking to it, when all I have to do is . . . breathe.

I guess the question is . . . do I have the courage to exhale?