I’ve been on stage since I was 10 years old.
My family band first put me there, and much later I led a band of my own.
In the middle years, I played and sang and acted and even danced in front of groups of strangers, feeling rather more perfectly placed there than anywhere else.
This, I discovered later, was because I wasn’t really comfortable in my own oh-so-ordinary regular company. I needed the odd safety of the stage to let the best bits of me out unguarded.
But then later, being on stage started to feel less familiar….less comforting.
Suddenly, gradually, I was no longer bugging my booking agent for more gigs. In fact, I felt relief when one event would end and there was no next event looming.
Suddenly, and especially the more comfy I got living inside my own skin, I began noticing how much I enjoyed being out of the spotlight.
Over the years, I have received some very genuine and heartfelt letters and emails and personal shares to let me know that my work mattered.
But there were also many times when the critiques seemed unusually harsh, and focused on intensely personal aspects of being me – aspects that only the real me or perhaps someone very very close to me could possibly perceive or interpret with any accuracy.
For instance, women would come to book signings and later email me with comments about my weight. Some event coordinators would witness the line of eager students waiting to talk one-to-one with me after a speaking event (lines that sometimes took an hour or more to break up) and then send a nastygram telling me they were disappointed in my presentation for one reason or another. At times someone decided they didn’t like my book or a blog post I’d written, and they would let me know and then let their entire network know in the most public way possible.
It all just got to be a little too much.
I started to realize I liked myself and my life better with fewer eyes on me.
And I finally learned that being famous doesn’t mean never getting lonely or feeling unloved. Being famous just means never being able to go through feelings like loneliness without being watched…and often judged….while doing it.
So when I got curious enough recently to google “why the singer Sia hides her face,” I didn’t bat an eyelash at her response (although I was tempted to stand up all alone in my casa to cheer her on).
…..read the full original post on The Huffington Post HERE.
Today’s Takeaway: Have you ever thought you might like to become famous? Has it ever seemed like a solution for some or all of life’s problems (like it once did for me)? How do you think you would cope with the Twitter Thugs in the hundreds or thousands, posting and commenting on everything that is “you” day in and day out? If you were famous and had a choice between “without wig” and “with wig,” which do you think you would choose and why? If someone you loved and wanted to protect was going through fame-induced public scrutiny, what advice would you offer them?