What does it feel like when you take a risk?
“… And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” ~ Anais Nin
What does it feel like on your skin?
Do you cheeks get hot? Does your heart beat fast?
What does it feel like at the center of your chest?
What does it feel like when you take a risk?
Deciding to Get Naked
All my life I’ve struggled with my self-image. I almost typed, “you know the story—the typical self-loathing and body criticism that too large a majority of girls and women inflict on themselves…” but that would be less than honest. I don’t know what “typical” self-loathing is. All I know is that for most of my life I believed myself to be ugly & unlovable. I spent years trying to punish my body for her flaws and hiding myself from view (and especially cameras) whenever I could.
As you can imagine, this presented some unique challenges since all I wanted in the world was to be an actress. By the time I was 19 I’d made it all the way to New York City and to NYU’s famous Tisch School of the Arts to study Drama. I was living my dream and in so many ways I couldn’t have been happier–but I still felt that shame and loathing of my body holding me back.
So I decided to take drastic action, to rip the band-aid off, so to speak.
I decided to get naked—in front of everybody.
At NYU, students are forbidden to perform during their first year. It’s a way to ensure that you really give yourself time to unlearn some bad habits and build a foundation for your craft before you jump into performance. In my acting studio there was a project that served as a right of passage for the second year students. Each student creates and performs a five minute solo piece for all of their teachers and classmates. The whole studio packs into one room for two days to watch the performances.
As soon as I knew about these projects, the idea came to me. This is my chance to break through my body-shame once and for all. This is my chance to take a huge risk—and break through to the other side.
(At least, that’s what I thought would happen…)
Here’s what happened…
The morning of my performance came. I warmed up. I put on my light purple charmeuse robe and felt its softness next to my bare skin. As I watched my friends perform I felt my palms get sweaty and my heart start beating fast as my turn approached. I kept crossing and uncrossing my legs.
Suddenly it was my turn to wait offstage. I’d already decided that I didn’t care what anyone thought of me. I’d already decided that people would think I was too ugly, too fat, too self-indulgent—too something. I’d also decided that I was going to do this anyway. It was the scariest possible thing I could think of. I figured nothing could be worse than being an admittedly ugly actress totally naked in front of all of my classmates and teachers. I figured that after I did this, unflattering costumes and nagging self doubt wouldn’t bother me anymore. I’d have faced my worst fear and survived.
The lights went black. I slipped the robe off and left it on the floor offstage. In the darkness I made my way onto the stage and held still for the long seconds that it takes for the lights to come up fully enough for the audience to see.
And there they were–the faces.
The faces of my teachers in the front row.
The faces of my classmates.
The faces of girls who I thought were so much more beautiful, so much more worthy.
There they were—face after face after face, all of them visible as the light spilled over from the stage into the house.
And there I was, suddenly calm. Also, totally naked.
No time to dwell on it; I was there to do something. I was there to tell a story, to tell the truth.
I moved freely. I spoke. I sang.
The lights went dark again.
(My heart is beating fast just writing this...)
And a swell of applause rang up to the ceiling, loud enough for me to feel it on the soles of my bare feet as I made my way back to the wing, back to my robe. This was genuine, heartfelt, real applause—nothing obligatory about it. (Every actor knows the difference.)
What happens after you feel the fear and do it anyway?
As it turned out, I was wrong about a few things when I set out to conquer my self-loathing and body image drama by getting naked in front of everybody.
First, nobody told me I was too fat, too ugly, or too self-indulgent. A few of the guys told me I was brave, I was a rockstar, some variation of that. A few of the women came up to me and hugged me, thanked me, said that I’d done something that made a difference for them. My teachers told me that I moved beautifully. Someone asked me if I’d studied Greek & Renaissance art to learn how to move and stand so still, stand just so.
I didn’t expect any of the praise. I also didn’t expect that my same old self-image issues would still keep coming back. After the thrill of doing something so scary and so important, all of my old familiar stuff came back. It was right where I left it.
Healing is a process. That act of bravery made for a pretty good second year project and certainly made me proud of myself. It taught me that taking a risk helped me to see myself as a courageous person. It taught me that nobody is anywhere near as hard on me as I am on myself.
Over time, I’ve learned that my sense of shame about my body is something that takes ongoing tending and healing. In fact, even though I’ve been naked on stage in front of all of those people, I’ve been so scared of how I look that it’s kept me from making videos for you—until now. For the last two days I’ve been facing those same butterflies, those same prickly hot nerve endings, those same familiar thoughts full of self-reproach. Just as it was more important to me then to face my fear and complete the performance it’s more important to me now to share my knowledge with you than to stay comfortably hidden behind my computer.
So, with that, I’d like to invite you over to my YouTube channel where you’ll find just a few videos. (More are on the way!)
I’d also like to invite you to consider what calculated risk you might like to take. Chances are good that whatever those naysaying thoughts in your head are telling you, your bravery and strength are greater than you know.
