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| The Dog and Pony Show is Over |
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"Cast in this unlikely role
Ill-equipped to act
With insufficient tact
One must put up barriers
To keep oneself intact"- "Limelight"- Rush
I am not naturally suited to performance. Left to my own devices I would be quite satisfied to hole up in an ivory tower of my own making and not communicate or deal with the outside world at all if I could avoid it. If I could avoid interacting with the outside world then I would have no need for the approval of others nor would I be subjected to the sting of others' disdain.
I freely admit my childhood was plenty dysfunctional. My family was poor, I had chronic health concerns from day one, and my sisters were sadistic little harpies left free to act with little to no parental restraint. In my parents' defense, they did what they could with what they had, and they did far better than most would have given the situations they were dealt.
My parents were handed much that they had no control over. My father desperately wanted a son. He got three daughters, of which I am the third. To add insult to injury I was born with pneumonia and throughout my childhood it seemed as if I lived in the doctor's office and/or the ER. I had constant and chronic severe respiratory infections and it was not unusual for me to get bronchitis or pneumonia and/or strep infections, several times a year. I was also born with a "congenital gross motor deficit" (meaning the doctors couldn't explain my horrendous lack of physical coordination other than to say that for some reason I was born that way) which required years of extensive physical therapy. I had trouble learning to walk. I was eight years old before I could balance well enough to ride a bike, and to this day my physical coordination is quite poor. I cost them money they could ill afford to spend- on top of being another unwanted female child.
I was not only sickly, small, strange looking, and weak, but I was also very obviously not normal. At the age of two I was reading from the newspaper, the encyclopedia, you name it. I cannot explain how or why I was able to do this, and neither could my parents or anyone else they asked. I have no idea what it would be like to be unable to read. I cannot remember ever learning to read. I just could.
My parents discovered that my unexplained early reading ability made for an entertaining dog and pony show that amazed and impressed their friends. I would read anything in print, given to me at random. When I was displaying this ability on command, my less-than-worthy, unwanted female money-pit status would be eclipsed for a moment. I had some entertainment value if nothing else.
I learned this lesson at a very early age: If you want to be loved- or at least temporarily tolerated, you gotta perform. Especially if your upkeep is expensive.
Part of me loathes public performance and that is the larger part of me who would be quite pleased to remain isolated in the ivory tower- but another part of me enjoyed the attention. Still another part of me felt guilty, as if I had to perform to try to compensate for being an expensive disappointment.
As I got older the lesson that my worth was based on merit and performance was continually reinforced. I was expected to excel in school, I was expected to work hard at home (especially after Mom injured her back and was bedridden for several months) and I was expected to refrain from even the slightest hint of trouble. I rebelled, alright, but I kept my rebellion both discreet and covert. I lived under the radar, and I let my parents see only what I knew they wanted to see.
In middle school and high school I studied classical voice. My sisters were both heavily into sports but I was forbidden from sports and even gym class due to rheumatic heart disease (and I am positively dreadful at every known sport except swimming to begin with) so I interested myself in Handel, Bach and Mozart- and later on, the pantheon of 80's heavy metal artists- instead. I don't know if I did this out of an innate love and talent for singing or if I secretly wanted to earn approval and favor by performing. I learned bass guitar and was also the lead singer of a heavy metal rock band. This is how I met my ex-husband- he was the lead guitarist. I wonder at times if the only thing that he ever loved about me was my voice, but the tale of that dysfunctional relationship is a long and convoluted story. I still struggle with the aversion to performance today, and I hesitate to sing other than in the car or other private places. I don't want to be open to that kind of scrutiny, and I don't want to be loved (or hated) on the basis of how well or how poorly I perform.
Professionally, intentionally or unintentionally, I ended up in the automotive business. I grew up in it. One of the few places I found refuge from being my sisters' punching bag was with my Dad. If I followed him along I would at least be left in peace, as my sisters had no interest in hanging out in repair shops or going on wrecker calls.
When I got into the automotive business there were virtually no women in the "fixed operations" (parts and service) end of it. Some of the good 'ol boys really resented my presence and tried to make my life difficult. I had to work twice as hard to be thought half as good, and that's when I became addicted to chronic overwork. I had to know it all, do it all and prove it all to be worth anything in my own eyes, and I drove myself hard. I cultivated a very rigid facade. I had no mercy, I was ruthless- but I made it a point to prove that I was very good at what I did.
By age 30 I was the service director of a luxury import car dealership- with uncontrollable high blood pressure, panic attacks and PTSD. I was morally bankrupt and spiritually dead as well as in very poor physical health. If I'd remained on that track, according to my doctor, I would not have lived to see age 35. I performed, alright, and it cost plenty. I did major damage not only to those around me but to myself.
I'm almost 40 and I am still trying to figure out what my purpose truly is. I do know that I'm not cut out to be a storm trooper and I don't like being a doormat. I've swung back and forth between those two extremes, and the only conclusion I get from that experience is that balance is somewhere in the middle. As much as I never want to go back to being the freaky little geek with the thick glasses and bad clothes I have to deal with and make peace with her sooner or later. It is entirely too taxing and weighty to carry around that carefully coiffed, emotionless facade even though it keeps me at arm's length from others and serves as a sort of portable ivory tower. I would like to be able to truly sing again- not as performance, not for accolades or adoration or to earn love or acceptance, but as celebration and worship. Maybe, in time. I can do that when I sing the hymns in church with everyone else. That part of me- the part where the heart of the music should come from- is still quite wounded, afraid, and raw around the edges.
I am not being sarcastic when I say that part of my purpose is to serve as a warning to others. By the grace of God I am just beginning to learn to live authentically and to say no to the dog and pony show. I can only pray that the Holy Spirit will continue to lead me to healing not only in knowing and following God's intended vocation, but in being comfortable in my own skin. I've never truly been there, but I would like to know what it's like to be comfortable with who I am. Today I am still very much wounded and scarred and afraid.
John Lennon, as everyone probably is aware, was a self-professed atheist. He got himself into a great deal of trouble when he claimed that the Beatles were "bigger than Jesus Christ." Even so, John Lennon had an interesting and surprisingly spiritual insight on the dog and pony show that he had performed in:
"I'm just sittin' here watchin' the wheels go round and round
I really love to watch them roll
No longer ridin' on the merry-go-round
I just had to let it go"- John Lennon
I don't have the luxury of getting off the merry-go-round completely. I still have to work, I still have to relate to other human beings and all of those complexities. But I don't have to put on the dog and pony show anymore. I pray for the wisdom and the courage to put down the facade and step off of the stage.
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