BLAAAaaggghhh...!

One of the symptoms of an approaching nervous breakdown is the belief that one's work is terribly important. - Bertrand Russell



Bang on Bertie- as always!



I've realised that my Inner Critic warns me to avoid being 'charming' because, quite irrationally (as I base this assumption on people who hurt me when I was very much younger), he equates 'charm' with insincerity, hypocrisy and manipulation. As the reader might appreciate, this severely limits my options when it comes to relating to others! I deliberately cut off from being funny and too light because I don’t want to invite accusations of being unprofessional and not serious about the work. In fact I separate work and play when really there need be no such distinction, especially when it comes to doing something I love doing i.e. acting. A part of this is to do with guilt about it not being a proper job, the idea that it is 'easy', that 'anyone can do it'. These shibboleths have been adopted by the Inner Critic as sticks to beat myself with but I can afford to let go of them now. You ARE charming, you are funny, you are warm, you are sensitive, generous, loving and lovable, and you are a very VERY good actor. If others compliment you they are not necessarily patronising you like your mother used to with these comments, or trying to take ownership of you or control you! They may just mean it! You have so much more power than you think you do. Your Inner Critic convinces you you have no power but you really do.



What would happen if you did desert the inner critic?

You fear you would be ordinary, that you would blend into the background and never be noticed. Your talent would go. You would just be nobody. People would think you were just an amateur who didn’t care about the work. You would humiliate yourself. This Inner Critic wants you to fulfil your potential but the criticism has been so crippling that you are actually sabotaged by his constant interruption. The origins of this Inner Critic are in your early family life. As Philip Larkin put it, they fuck you up your mum and dad!

Identify the common themes here:

You aren’t allowed to think you’re special, but you will not get anywhere unless you do. You have to earn love by hiding your faults and obeying, maliciously if necessary until others worship you and you can say “I no longer need you.” Getting clearer about what the critic is really trying to do is going to make it easier for you to deal with him. The time to start doing this is now, before you go to college and risk wasting your time and possibly hurting others because of these reptilian daemons.

Actually your Inner Critic wants to make you a better person, and is willing to put up with you trying to hide your confusion, stupidity and egotism from others in order to gain that credibility from others which you are not allowed to give yourself (for that would be ‘big-headed’). He doesn’t want you to be bigheaded, but he wants to make you a genius. You cannot be proud of yourself and be a great actor or a great person, so he tells you that you have to go the opposite direction and at all costs hide from yourself. The trouble is he then he gives you a hard time for doing just that too, hiding your light under a bushel!

Clearly this is all to do with inaccurate and deeply confused and tangled-up self-esteem issues. He longs for you to have permission to think well of yourself, but puts you down in order to ‘help’ you achieve that. ???!!!*!?**!!

You need to tell him to, “Fuck right off, and let me be at peace with me. You think like a child. You patronise and bamboozle me like my mother did.” Your Inner critic is only a part of who you are. There is a deeper, more essential part of you that knows you are super-talented, highly experienced and capable of incredible work. Your Critic is a never/always, all-or-nothing, black-and-white ‘Child’ sub-personality. Remind yourself of your achievements in the past, your successes that; you are capable of being kind, considerate, loving, happy, joyful and supremely talented. You are allowed to be all those things. You really don’t have to be cold, nasty and withdrawn to be a respected actor. Those features of your personality have to be accepted and loved too if they are to lose their grip on you. But remember this: you have no reason to assume that people are lying to you when they like you or say you are good. You can afford to believe it sometimes, you know! Give yourself a break. And remember to see the funny side and that it is not a case of all or nothing. All or nothing is a silly choice. You can choose a happy medium and that does not make you bland and ordinary. It makes you a very good tightrope walker. In fact it very rarely is all or nothing. All or nothing cuts don your options. Mix and match for that is not really a compromise made by fools and normal folk. It is right to steer a course that is healthy and rich. You can have it all by not thinking you have to be perfect. You are OK.. It is not as if you are either better than everyone else, or you are the worst, and never anything in between. It is not a failure to be average. You are particularly prone to attack when you are in the throes of creating because you become a vulnerable and open door to criticism and judgement. You try to get in there before anyone else does. Identifying this voice and then telling it you are old enough now to make your own choices.


You may just have to face up to the fact and admit to yourself that you do have an extraordinary gift! And, yes, that idea may make you squirm, it may make others jealous and opens you up to accusations of arrogance and self-delusion. So what!? Laugh at yourself. You may even have to acknowledge that it is God working through you, which sounds even more arrogant to most people! And so you have been reduced to covering it up in shame, and berate and down-rate yourself -“Who the fuck do you think you are?” This inner critic wants you to keep improving and is frightened that if you rest on your laurels and get complacent and self-satisfied you will stop growing as an artist because you will no longer feel the need to prove yourself. He is trying to motivate you, to get you fired up. He is just a bit too much! It is therefore extra important when you are doing your creative work that you keep your inner critic in its place. His watching, carping, judging presence stops your flow of creativity. Let the judgment voice come afterwards, not during the rehearsing work. Just say, “OK not now. Later.” Go away. I’m busy.”



This inner critic has encouraged outer critics to lay into you more than they otherwise would. His presence almost encourages them! It might hurt you to lose the approval of others, but it won’t kill you. You are an adult now, you can stop allowing the inner critic to encourage you to think like a child.



You need the freedom to follow your own muse, but that does not mean you have to cut everyone else out, or cut yourself off from your feelings. You want to be part of what Carolyn Myss calls your “tribe”- i.e. in your particular case the club of ‘The Professional Actor Society’, “The Consummate Artist Consortium”. But if you can stop thinking like this for just a bit and allow yourself the freedom to be you, just you. It will remind you of why you are still doing this acting lark if it isn’t just to gain their tribal approval! This will give you the freedom and space to glimpse why you are really doing it, above and beyond being approved of.

You hate the idea of being called unprofessional, just an amateur, a self-indulgent and insincere luvvie. The threat of these accusations pushes all your buttons, so you go completely in the opposite direction.

Equally don’t allow directors and great teachers diminish your self-trust.
Give yourself the love and approval you want sometimes. You deserve that more than you deserve to be bullied. You wouldn’t allow anyone else to talk to you the way your Inner Critic does after all. Bullying is bullying is bullying. It has nothing to do with love, no matter what excuses are given.



Your Inner Critic warns you not to be charming because you equate that with insincerity, hypocrisy and manipulation. This cuts off your options when it comes to relating to people. You cut off being funny too because you don’t want to invite accusations of being unprofessional and not serious about being good. These have been adopted by the inner Critic as sticks to beat yourself with and can be let go of now. You are charming, you are funny, you are warm, you are sensitive, generous, loving and lovable. For when others say that to you they are not patronising you like your mother used to with these comments! They mean it. You have more power than you think. Your Inner Critic convinces you that you have no power- but you really do.



It’s time to let the real Mark out who is charming, kind, generous, loving, funny, easy to be around, full of light and so incredibly warm and sweet- all the things that I am usually not! And the only reason it is so well hidden is because you Inner Critic convinced you somehow that you had to be a monster if you wanted to go where you wanted to go. You confused the word “Professional” with “strictly self-disciplinarian who doesn’t allow emotions like humour and tenderness to get in the way of clawing his way to the top” You keep people at an emotional distance , frightened and confused by you, all the while allowing the Inner critic is convincing you that the loneliness and pain you are causing yourself is a fuel. And it is – a fuel which consumes and kills you!

I confessed to a friend recently that it is one of the most spectacularly peculiar ironies of my life that in my obsessive desire to protect myself from becoming the cartoon cliché of the insecure temperamental aging performer- childish, selfish, painfully self-pitying, self-dramatizing, egotistical, paranoid, riddled with irrational fears, neuroses and hideous insecurities, prone to diva-like sulks and tantrums who has so many sub-personalities he no longer has any idea at all of he really is and who causes everyone around him to dance around to try and please rather than risk upsetting him- that that is precisely the person I have become! I have now come to see that the root of these issues is not anything remotely resembling a “ troubled genius” but massively damaged self-esteem. My Inner Critic has wielded such power over me and has allowed me to abuse, berate, bully and ill-treat myself for so many years it has eroded my talent, my relationships, my inner beauty.



I think that me being uncommunicative and dour is coming from my father who was so single-focused that he couldn’t allow for laughter because he was so focused on what he thought were higher and more important things. It is this that has been adopted by me when I am working, and which is so alienating. It is because I never feel there is enough time, as my friend Peter put it, to “piss around”. It makes me pompous, legalistic, remote and unreasonable. I can afford to lighten up- in all senses of the word.



You do not need this agony, or this Inner Critic beating you up and telling you to hide what you are feeling all the time, and warning you that you are wasting time by being human.

It was your Mum who always told you what you were really like this underneath your hard mask of stone was kind, gentle, sensitive and loving, and you didn’t want to believe her. After all she was also the person that laughed at you, and fed you the message that you were daft, stupid, a baby, soft in the head. You couldn’t deal with these mixed messages. It wasn’t possible for you to accept that both of these might be true. Or neither! You thought she was tricking you into being a child again, or at least less than man. Your father was a model of the studious person who won through in the end; who was able to use his fury with himself and the world as fuel. His life was about vengeance on those who had underestimated him. In fact he was an extremely damaged individual, whose strength could have been put to infinitely better use if he hadn’t been so far up his own selfish, joyless and frustrated arse. And yet you chose to go down his route, stoking the fires of toxic rage in the hope that it was going to make you into a great man. Closed up in a crucible of self-loathing you thought would purify you. You decided you didn’t want to be liked, or loved but would settle for being respected, feared, envied and despised. A victim, a Mr Spock who buried his emotions; or like Riddler in Howard Barker’s A Hard Heart, a genius who sublimated all positive emotional energy. You didn’t believe you had any talent, any likeable qualities that were of any use to you; no real charm or talent, just weaknesses and vulnerable areas of your being that would never help you to achieve anything. So you thought it a better choice to be a pain in the arse who was at least able to be brilliant at what he did even if it meant cutting himself off from others so much that he had more time to focus on work, work, work. You decided to be lonely rather than have to deal with others who you thought were trying to deflect from your path, and pull you out of flow. You got paranoid, jealous, quiet, sulky, resentful and dark. You became Mr Angry, thinking that that somehow made you a more authentic and better artist. It didn’t make you a better artist, and people didn’t take you more seriously. They just thought you were an arse! And those that didn’t were actually doing you a gross disservice by not telling you. Let the work go, don’t make it the be all and end all and be light, light, light and you will find that your wonderful laugh will start to warm up all the people you might have alienated in the past, and begin to revive your career and reputation in ways that you cannot imagine. Stop gripping so grimly to the idea of the suffering, tortured artist, because that is really total bollocks. The work does not get easier; it gets harder, much harder when you cut yourself and your feelings and thoughts off.

You now realise that you have sabotaged yourself for 40 years and that now it is time for you to come out of that self-imposed confinement and be free of the need to obey your gaoler, your inner critic,. He is not your friend. He is your worst enemy when he is the only voice you can bring yourself to trust. Trust that you are loved, loveable and respected. You are a joy to work with when you want to be. If you sense yourself tightening up your heart and soul again, remember this: you are light, you are love, and like the L’Oreal adverts- you are worth it! Humour is really God working in you, and it is not irresponsible to have a laugh sometimes. Lighten up now, for God’s sake, Mark, for this will be your salvation, and ensure that when you leave college you could have a career as an actor.

You can expect to be liked, because you are a loveable guy.
You are extremely talented
You bring light, laughter and joy wherever you go.

A lot of this was taken from my Morning Pages and letter to myself and friends, and was written quickly, but it was honest when I wrote it and there will be stuff here that I'll need to come back to in the coming year. The key thing is for me to stop being so fucking self-obsessed and to 'Only Connect' with others now.

I have a huge struggle with impatience- mostly with my own failings actually, although it frequently spills over into my relationship with others in the context of rehearsals. I over-react to things way out of proportion, and come across as very intolerant with even little things I perceive to be going "wrong", or maybe time being wasted for instance. I don't easily forgive myself either, and it can corrupt the atmosphere of the rehearsal room very quickly...I guess that is why I have a struggle accepting experimentation, getting things 'wrong', or not knowing how to solve things quickly.

Believe it or not, long ago, anger /rage fuelled some of my best creative work as an actor, but it's a really dangerous kind of addiction- a sort of heroin in fact. After the initial rushes of creative power it bestows it will slowly and insidiously undermine you as you start needing bigger hits just to get the same effect. Without going into too much detail, it's curious how bonds/ relationship patterns formed in the rehearsal room by people mirror ones familial paradigm if you know what I mean. My relationships with my parents and siblings were, to say the least, 'dysfunctional' - as I'm sure you might've guessed!! That's the sort of stuff I am working to unravel and deal with before I go back to college.

I've realised I exhibit the classic low self-esteem pathology typical of the 'difficult' and 'insecure' actor cliché- and my inner critic admonishes that in me more than for anything else. When I try to sit on this critical voice it just emerges in other ways (passive-aggression, malicious obedience, frozen feelings, silences etc) and these tactics are especially confusing and scary to other people, I know that (But also to ME!) That's why I need to learn how to honour and allow that part of me a voice without allowing it to totally dominate proceedings. And that's also why I think it vital for me to not leave my sense of humour at the rehearsal room door from now on, and also to allow myself to state what I think/feel assertively (not aggressively or passively) before I go sit on my feelings and they get so totally squashed out of shape I don't even know what I am doing any more, or why! Laughter will defuse my impatience better than anything I think. That may sound to calculating, but that's what I reckon will work anyway. I've tried everything else!


It is not about self-transformation so much as self-affirmation. I am simply looking for opportunities now you share these qualities when with others, and to be lighter in the way I speak to myself, and to defuse the more dangerous and difficult aspects of how my Inner Critic is prone to bully me.

Be relaxed and at ease and quieten that shrill and irritating little voice of your Inner Critic and say thank you for your opinion but I am doing something else right now. If you must say what you have to say but I will consider it later. I don’t really need to hear that just now. Radiate love, joy and confidence. You have a right to be proud of who you are.

Open yourself,- as if you are a Cosmic Aperture spiraling outwards, - in the places you are closed.

Work on the craft and don't worry about the sharks. Even sharks like a good show.

Remember you can do it with wit, with charm, with eloquence and with confidence, expressing everything with such a deft skilfulness and a relaxed and easy quality that everyone will like you for it.

Dealing with Inner Dæmons (Part II)

I was amused by one friend’s response to my last blog (let’s call her “P.”):

“You don't have so much of an Inner Critic as a case of multiple demonic possession.”

I think P. was half-joking, I hope she was, but this is the same friend who also recently asserted that “Art is exorcism”! But, you know what? I’m just not convinced the exorcism that art offers is what I require right now, since it is my own dysfunctional relationship with acting that fucked me up most of all- and actually using art as exorcism has ultimately made me a much lesser artist. And this is also why I am less and less inclined to give the ego room in the artistic process if I can possibly avoid it. I know that the Higher Self provides me, as an artist, with a much healthier, wiser and more holistic perspective on who I really am and hence the work itself starts to serve the divine. It is this Higher Self that is the real healer, not the ego; and it is the Higher Self I am using now as I write all this. He is far lighter, more lucid, wise and more light-filled than my everyday, ‘possessed’ ego could ever be, and certainly a whole world away from my Inner Critic.. Exorcising ones’ daemons should happen before the artist reveals his work to the world, if the work and its audience are not to become polluted, contaminated. I think this is why I gave this Inner Critic of mine a voice, a look and a distinct personality separate from me because it helps me realise that it isn’t the real me, just a product of a damaged ego, a diseased and deeply wounded lesser self.

My Inner critic tells me that this series of blogs will come across to others as scary and insane, (go away Inner Critic!) but it wouldn’t help me to hide this away any more, that’s why I am putting it out there on this blog rather than reserving it for my morning pages and journal. Sergeant Grouch would love me to hide myself away, in the hope that I will just put this ‘crap’ aside and forget all about it, so nothing ever really gets done and he can undermine me even further, convince me that the next time it rears its ugly head(s) I am even more powerless to drown him out and resist his psychological bullying.

A small part of this inner work I decided to take on in the run up to my going to drama college involved completing some assertiveness exercises from a course my wife Karen completed 7 or 8 years ago for an evening class at Glasgow University. I usually run a mile from pop psychology, self-help exercises like these- they bore me rigid, to be honest. (My Inner Critic objects in no uncertain terms if the book doesn’t have the full weight and substance of serious, pseudo-intellectual, scientific credibility and long words- the more befogging, technical, pretentious and incomprehensible the better!!!).

But one very simple questionnaire in this pack asked how I would react to/deal with a range of challenging situations in my day to day life- e.g. complaining about service in a shop, saying ‘no’, asking for help, etc). It shocked me to find out I was apparently “0% aggressive”, and “85% passive” (leaving just “15% assertive”)!! The conclusion stated I had serious issues with low self-esteem, and probably spent most of my time in “Victim” mode. Ouch! Well, my Inner Critic punched the air when I read that!! But, mercifully, it didn’t stop there. The prescription advice that followed was for me to draft a list of ‘I statements’ as positive affirmations to help reprogram my thoughts and feelings, and thereby boost self-esteem. Well, you know the kind of thing…

Predictably, my Inner critic immediately baulked at this. “What the fuck do you want to do this crap for?… You’re not a baby; grow up… It won’t work… This is too simplistic for a complicated fucker like you… You’ve done this sort of thing before and it didn’t help then,; it won’t now… This is totally pointless, stupid, self-indulgent… You’re WASTING your TIME” (this ‘wasting time’ thing is a pet mantra of old Sergeant Grouch) etc, etc, etc... But by this stage I had begun to glean that maybe my Inner Critic didn’t always exactly speak the truth (understatement of the century!); or indeed, want the best for me! So I decided I would ignore him just for the time being and just give the advice a go anyway. “What’s the worst that could happen?” I told him, and he just clammed up there and then. Sulking- probably. J

I couldn’t have come up with the following list all on my own. When faced with tasks challenges like this I usually lose the ability to focus my thoughts properly and concentrate. My mind starts freezing up, or feels unable to stay with one thing. It try to rationalise but in a really disordered way. I look for distractions, come up with excuses, smoke a fag or five, make tea, look for someone else to blame, etc, etc.

The inspiration for completing this final list of affirmations came from asking some trusted and honest friends who gave me feedback on the “What do I do well?” section of that CBT (or Cognitive Behaviour Therapy- yes, more pop psychology! What am I becoming??! Lol) exercise I referred to in Part I (q.v. Part III for the results of this). Also from thinking about what the polar opposites were of the negative shite my Inner Critic uses to batter and fry my confidence. I tend to habitually deflect compliments and praise, leaping straight to the “What do I do wrong?” stuff, but seeing my friends’ positive statements written down removed the option of completely blotting them out. I put the “What do I not do well?” responses- potential sticks for my Inner Critic beat me up with- aside, and began to focus on the things others thought I was good at for the time being.

The results were unbelievable. I felt an unfamiliar surge of joy, love and gratitude sweep over me as I read them- which the Sergeant attempted to crush of course. But the fact that my friends seemed to be saying roughly the same things led me to conclude that they might have a point, and that my Inner Critic’s motives were no longer to help me but to cripple and pound my self-esteem, to make me feel smaller, denser, heavier- as opposed to expansive, lighter, bigger. I decided I would listen to my pals for once, rather than to the bullying Sergeant. I tried to put that Scott Walker lyric out of my mind which goes “In a world filled with friends you lose your way” and sat down and opened myself up to what was good about me, what my soul craved to slake his thirst on. After all, what did I really have to lose by choosing to believe them over the Sergeant? Actually nothing, when I thought about it, and in fact perhaps a great deal to gain!

Here’s what I came up with:

MY AFFIRMATIONS

I am a PHENOMINALLY gifted actor.

I am likable... lovable!

People love to be around me.

I am a generous spirit.

I am extremely knowledgeable and experienced.

I have plenty of time to make contact with myself and others.

I have fun.

I have the answers within me.

I am balanced.

I am patient.

I am so funny!

I have a wonderful, life-giving laugh.

I am confident…

… because I can afford to be!

I can laugh at myself.

I have plenty of time.

I have a sense of proportion.

I am living my life healthily and fully.

I am an extraordinary person.

I radiate light wherever I go.

I have the right to have fun.

I have the right to be wrong sometimes

I don’t need to always follow my rules!

I speak up when something bothers me.

I am intelligent.

I learn much from others.

I teach people how to live and love by who I am.

I am allowed to be child-like.

When I laughing and enjoying myself it is a sign of my good health.
You have abundant joy.

I have the right to be heard.

I bring light, laughter and joy wherever I go.

People lighten up when they are around me because they feel safe.

People admire me.

I am always enough!

Once I’d finished drawing these up I was crying my eyes out, but feeling incredibly good about myself, for the first time in several years in fact. But then very soon all of them started to lose their shine of course, to become untrue, especially when my Inner Critic got his paws on them. He had a way of refuting every single one of them.He laughed and pointe at me and calling me stupid and delusional for even eneteraining such ridiculous ideas about myself . But I know to my cost that listening to him has got me nowhere in the past. These affirmations on the other hand seemed to have a way of making me feel so much better about myself, amnd i am convinced they are going to have a positive effect on my art. They are not arrogant, and they are not delusional. They can be true- they ARE- true! It wasn’t really as if I was deluding myself, as I am aware that many of them come from that part of me I get into contact with sometimes after a gathered Quaker meeting or in deep meditation.

For the time being the Inner Critic is outside of me and he is looking somehow tiny and actually quite ridiculous.

Ah! Progress!!

:-D

Dealing with Inner Dæmons (Part I)

The main body of this posting consists of a long list I have been thinking about over the past few days and then compiled during my long walk home from this morning’s Quaker meeting. It’s actually a list of twisted taunts my horrible Inner Critic goads me with. As you will probably start to understand it’s no wonder I mess up so often! My work may have benefited from this 'inner nag' early on in my acting career perhaps (although this is at the very least arguable. After all, does artistic talent really have to have a shadow side??), but it has had to get more harsh and more vicious with me for it to retain power and control over me, and at what a devastating cost to so many of my friendships and working relationships, my career, not to mention my own mental and emotional health! It strangles and chokes my talent.

It was in fact Michael Jackson’s sudden death 3 days ago which caused me to reflect even more deeply on the shadow side of artistic talent, the perfectionist tendencies and drives of the performer. His life stands as parable of self-destruction and genius as poisoned chalice. Like everyone else I have a shadow side to my nature as the list of inner rules below reveals so painfully; and, although I’m not arrogant enough to believe I have a fraction of the talent Jacko had, I am obliged to own up to having to deal with my own vicious inner dæmons when it comes to my own art. I am at least relieved I didn’t end up a serial child abuser, addicted to plastic surgery and Vicadin and Demerol! With me it's only the fags, although it occurs to me that that particulr addiction is a symptom of a deeper cause perhaps intimately related to my Inner Critic. More of which in a future post...

The ‘rules’ included in this list had their parthenogenesis during my adolescence They goaded me to aspire to genius, whilst constantly reminding me how far short I would fall of ever achieving it! It is this Inner Critic archetype who muscles in on my acting every time I enter the doors of a rehearsal room. So often it is drones on like a white noise in my head (like those things they blow during football matches in South Africa that sound like angry bees) and goes unchallenged, unacknowledged, even flatly denied by me if I am actually confronted by anyone else about my behaviour. Having meditated on this I’ve listed some of the many variations on these dæmon taunts. They are not exaggerated, I promise you, which is actually what makes seeing them down here in black and white even more alarming. I know that the next stage of this inner work will be to replace these taunts and re-programme myself to have a healthier, more positive attitude to the work before I go to drama school. That will come in part II of this blog in a fortnight or so hopefully.

The following taunts have always been used by me as a top-secret ‘extreme rocket fuel’ to try and get the best from myself, but actually they have for a very long time become less helpful and more and more self-sabotaging, until I have come to feel more or less totally blocked and creatively paralysed. Certainly my capacity for taking any real joy from my work has all but disappeared in recent years. This originally potent fuel has a side effect of creating dangerously toxic emissions that will only fuck me up more and more unless they are brought into full light of day and revealed as the preposterous and patently ridiculous rules that they really are. This ‘fuel’ can and frequently does poison the atmosphere in the rehearsal room quicker than anything. In this post I will just list some of the things this dæmon inner critic of mine says to me: in Part II I will draft some affirmations to counter its noxious effects on me and my work.

Before I do that, here is a wee snapshot of what his dæmon looks like. He/she is a cross between a thin, stern ballet mistress and a barking sergeant major sketched by Gerald Scarfe. This dæmon appears in my mind’s eye as a frightfully pale, carping, bullying, perfectionist fire-breathing dictator in a dusty costume armed with rules that don’t make rational sense, and are frequently contradictory. He/she has a bamboo cane in one hand which is swished through the air and is used to whack me across my back when I am lazy, self-satisfied or low. In the other hand he/she clutches in his long bony fingers a small red, leather-bound notebook with a tattered string and small pencil attached in which he scribbles his ‘Rules’. He/she is surrounded by a cloudy red mist that gives off sparks.

This is maybe something I really should just keep for my private journal, but these issues are so bound up with my work as an actor and director, and it will do me good to have this mad stuff out in the public domain because I can’t then shirk, suppress or avoid doing the important inner work of owning and correcting all this ingrained, habitual dysfunctional thinking that has dogged me for so long. I’ve been silent and privately ashamed of this hidden side of me for far too long, and I know I need to get this sorted before I go to the Academy or I am going to let it to sabotage my growth as an artist and my relationships there too. So here it is.

This self-blame is like an addiction to a powerful narcotic that made me feel so strong when I started ‘using’, and then slowly and surely it whittled away my willpower, my health, my capacity to think straight and see things clearly until I ended up believing I’m incapable of doing anything without it. This is not an exercise in self-pity, actually very far from it. This is about owning up to some difficult truths about what a pain I am capable of causing myself and others. For the first time in a long time I feel I am actually getting somewhere.

Here’s that list.

THE DAEMON's RULEBOOK
(or The Inner Critic's Catechism)

“Break any of these rules and you will pay for it.”

“Be consistent, or you’ll look foolish.”

“(raps) Success is your only mother-fucking option. Failure’s not.”

“If you’re planning to fail, forgive yourself.”

“Isolate yourself to avoid the possibility of infection by the culture of failure and malfunction that spoils all life.”

“Resist being tarred with the same brush as anyone else. Free yourself of all other attachments except your attachment to me, your only true friend.”

“Go silent and remote if you want to become better than all your ‘competitors’ and avoid being dragged down to ‘their’ level.”

“Love blinds you.”

“Love wounds.”

“Love hurts.”

“…Avoid it.”

“You have a right to be moody”

“You are obliged to be moody.”

“You moody, difficult fucker!”

"Impatience is a virtue. It gets things done."

“What do you mean? OF COURSE you can’t be loved! Anyone who says you can is either a fucking liar or a fool. Get used to being alone and misunderstood.”

“Love crucifies.”

“Love is best reserved for the desperate and the lost.”

“If you didn’t have me you would have to give up.”

“It’ll never be perfect. Chain yourself up in your gloomy cave and try, try and try again.”

“Cruelty and suffering are such a wonderful teachers. I am cruel because I care.”

“God punishes you when He wants you to grow. I am his servant”

“Accelerate your learning- help me, your teacher, by hurting yourself, and then suffer in silence and isolation and feel yourself soar higher.”

“Anger is good for your creativity and motivation. Squashed rage is even better.”

“You do not have time to mess around. Get a move on, you retard.”

“You must always stay hungry. Deny your self the sustenance of reward.”

“All the best artists are messed up.”

“It is your job to shoulder all the blame for every mistake. You allowed them to happen.”

“Say nothing. Don’t complain. Be a man.”

“Always obey the director, like a professional.”

“You said nothing. Why not? You’re to blame; you were the one who saw it all going to hell in a handcart in slow motion and still you ignored your inner voice. It’s all your fault.”

“The audience don’t give a damn about your suffering. It goes with the territory. Do your job and shut the fuck up, you child.”

“Keep the personal out of it.”

“Avoid giving yourself the credit. Your successes are down to me. You couldn’t survive without me”

“Other people have their own problems. They aren’t interested in knowing about yours. Don’t waste time and involve anyone else. Solve your own problems and allow them to get on with much more important things- their own.”

“Demand to know from anyone who dares admire you what you did wrong.”

“Never listen to what you did right- you’ll never learn from that.”

“Give it all away… Especially your happiness.”

“You have no right to be fulfilled. That is not why you should be doing it.”

“All or nothing. There be no road between.”

“Don’t let anything get in the way of you being excellent.”

"Don't be offensive. Be passive-aggressive."

“You always fail… That is because you're shit.”

“Humourlessness is proof of your integrity and commitment.”

“Laughter is forbidden. You are not a child; stop behaving like one.”

“Like or (God forbid) love your own self at your own peril.”

"Tolerate incompetence in others until your ears bleed or explode."

“You are entitled to no reward, no matter how hard you work. Except a fag or five in the breaks.”

“Nothing and nobody should matter more than acting.”

“Fuck your own acting! Nothing matters more than the show, you self-involved bastard.”

“If you are not prepared to give up everything then you are an amateur of the worst kind, a fucking fraud.”

“Others are human: their errors are forgivable. But I told you you were failing; you have no excuse.”

“Amateur equals shit.”

“Your inevitable failure is unpardonable.”

“Working till you collapse builds your stamina.”

“Pain and suffering is character building.”

“Refuse to be obsessed and you’re bound to fall flat on your arse.”

“’Concentrate’ means blot everything else out.”

“Flexibility is your fatal flaw.”

“Rest is for wimps.”

“Always hate the results and you’ll keep on growing.”

“Clamp the emotional shutters down or the lesser artists will sabotage and distract you out of jealousy.”

“Never reveal your sickness or weaknesses. They will want to steal it for themselves if they knew its rewards.”

“Blame yourself for everything that fails. Allow yourself no credit for the successes.”

“Never admit weakness.”

“Stockpile and hide all your love away. Don’t waste it.”

“You’ll always need to prove yourself or others will overtake you.”

“Always believe it when you think you might be shit. I, your inner critic, is never ever wrong. Trust me.”

“You are an untrained actor: you are therefore a shit amateur.”

“You NEED me.”

“Helping a fellow other actor is like giving him direction. It is not your job. Everyone will hate you for it eventually.”

“(sings) You’re no good, you’re no good, you’re no good… Baby, you’re no good. Say it again.”

“Live in fear of humiliation and ridicule. Fear it worse than death.”

“All satisfaction breeds laziness, smugness and deadening de-motivation.”

“The audience despise you for failing them.”

“Friends are misguided. Make no friends and you won’t be lied to.”

“You are shit because you can’t repeat your successes.”

“It was good? You got lucky.”

“It was bad? No wonder. You didn’t kill yourself trying.”

“Exaggerate your pain if you want a purchase on transformation.”

“Praise is rarely valid, and never ever useful.”

“Genius is a curse.”

“Your experience counts for nothing. After 30 odd years you are still none the wiser than the first timer.”

“Feeling disconnected, then pull yourself apart and find out why. Quick!”

“Smash the first signs of self-satisfaction into a pulp. It is the enemy of the true artist.”

“And who the fuck are you? What do you know?”

“You are deluding yourself.”

“You will never know enough, that is why I have the right to call you stupid.”

“I would be failing in my obligations if I didn’t keep bullying you.”

“You are thick, slow, clumsy, inept, and wrong most of the time. A self-pitying, nasty, fat, ugly, disgusting, sick, whining, smelly, scruffy, selfish, self-obsessed, shitty little HUMAN.”

“You can’t stop until you are perfect. Which is never.”

“Since pride in who you are and what you achieve and self-love are not valid options without the attendant shame and the inevitable self-delusion, hate yourself with a passion instead.”

“If you cannot be loved by others then intimidate them. Make them scared of you.”

“Make them jealous, secretly resentful of and alarmed by your talent. Make them hate themselves for admiring your work so much even though you are such a shit to work with.”

“In the end it doesn’t matter if you’re a shitty person. It’s utterly justified in the long run if you are creating great art as 'a shitty person'.”

“Hurt yourself. Hurt others if necessary. It’ll be worth it.”

“You are fucking stupid and untalented… But you must do your utmost to hide that from people or you will look weaker.”

“You are an amateur and you will always be an amateur if you look like you are having any fun.”

“You are not allowed to congratulate yourself. Only big-headed, deluded arseholes do that.”

“You are not loveable. You are not even likeable. To think you could be liked is a sign either you have fallen for lies or they have. Deflect and dismiss it if you value your integrity at all.”

“But if you cannot ever allow yourself to be liked or loved you can at least be respected. And if not respected then feared. And if not feared then utterly despised. Anything but fall for empty theatrical blandishments.”

“If you give up these rules then you will kill your will and your right to work at the highest level. And you will disappear. Folk will not remember you and will never want to work with you again.”

“Be remembered, even if it is for being a difficult bastard.”

"You always have to be the most grown up.”

"Martyr yourself."

"Be Mr Spock when you drop your character."

“The work is punishing. Get used to it. If you can’t take it then kill yourself because you’ll never be good at anything else.”

Scary, huh? But I feel much lighter and freer for having done this though!

A few days ago I asked 3 or 4 close and trusted confidants (I do still have a small loving and hyper-tolerant band of close friends left, thank God!!) who have agreed to help me complete a CBT (Cognitive behaviour Therapy) exercise that asks the following questions:

What do I do well in the rehearsal room?

and

What do I not do so well in the rehearsal room?

My thanks to those kind souls (You know who you are!) who are helping me with this. You are truly precious friends. When the feedback comes I will compile and compare the results and draft some conclusions and, yes, change!!!!

Hopefully I’ll be able to include them in a Part III. This is to be my homework during the summer hols.

Phew.

:-)

Tally's Blood 6

I realised last night watching a stagger-through of Tally’s Blood just why I find the moment at the end of Act 1 so moving when Massimo returns from Canada. It is for a similar reason that I find the scene where Hughie is trying not to cry so moving. They both trigger the same emotional memory in me that reminds me of an episode from my very early childhood.

I was 3 years old and my mother, due to complications, had been in hospital during the last month of her pregnancy before giving birth to my sister, Katie. For some reason I had been forbidden by my father to visit mum during that time. Perhaps he thought it would upset or confuse me. Dad and grandma had looked after my brother, Julia and me during that time. Eventually of course mum came home. I can still vividly recall standing at the top of the stairs as my dad carried mum’s bag from the car, my grandma held the door open, and my mother appeared looking radiant and strangely different with my new baby sister in her arms. I can remember mum saying to grandma how wonderful it was to be home and then noticing me as I stood at the top of the stairs looking down on all this. My mum smiled hesitantly... “Hello, Mark. Did you miss me? Come and say hello to your new baby sister,” I feigned diffidence, knowing that this was a rite of passage I did not want to make, for as soon as I acknowledged this new arrival the whole family dynamic would change forever and I would have to become grown up and responsible as I had been warned. It would become somehow real, and things would never ever be the same again.

My mum’s expectations of a sentimental homecoming were dashed. I remember she looked so forlorn and disappointed as she looked up at me. She was heart-broken I hadn’t run down the stairs towards her and hugged her with all my might. I overheard her whisper to my father and grandmother, “He doesn’t remember me.”

Of course I did. Of course I remembered who she was! But she had changed, and for some reason in some deep part of me I couldn’t help resenting this. I hadn’t been consulted about this new addition to the family. I was irrelevant. But I knew it would be unfair to take it out on this tiny baby, and the only person I could take it out on was my mother. She said she would always love me, that she had no favourites and I then I would put this to the test.

I had been a happy, affectionate and effusive child until this point. It wasn’t long after this day that I became haunted with recurring nightmares which continued into my adolescence, as I strived to maintain this stiff, unbending visage of emotional restraint and indifference, a stiff-upper-lipped mask of ‘bravery’ which my mother had told me was the measure of adulthood and maturity- the placing others’ needs before ones own. This was the genesis of one of the most destructive and hideously subtle reptiles in my First Mansion. I was being forced to grow up too early, and follow the example my mother set for “adulthood” which seemed to mean resisting one’s natural impulses and emotions; sacrificing one’s own emotional needs and who one really was in order to conform to the onerous and ‘inevitable’ expectations placed on you by the world to be other than one’s true self.
As far as I could see, although I could barely say my own name let alone articulate any of this the rules seemed to be as follows:

Don’t cry.
Don’t be jealous.
Don’t be “silly” (i.e. sensitive).
Always put others’ feelings, especially your younger brothers and sisters before your own.
Don’t seek attention.
Be seen and not heard.
And, (perhaps most wounding of all) suffer in silence.

Inwardly I was not at all ready for these twisted notions of Catholic sainthood (Was I ever??!!). And so it was that I instinctively protested in an insidious and passive-aggressive way. Of course I had never even heard of the phrase passive-aggressive then (- and I suppose in the early 1960s this pop-psychology phrase probably had yet to be coined!), but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to manipulate others through such means. Now i look back on this I realise what a conniving wee bastard I really was! After all- I had ben tutored in such tactics at the feet of a true master- my own mother. Oh the irony of that! I decided in that very moment that I would use this opportunity to give her a dose of her own medicine and to pretend that I really didn’t remember her. When I sensed she was upset by this I remained where I was on the landing, peering through the banisters. I didn’t come running down to her, I just stared at her as if she were a stranger to me. To her I seemed withdrawn and taciturn, even afraid- which she interpreted as me having forgotten who she was (…How ridiculous! Of course I hadn’t forgotten who she was! My mother and father had always branded me as soft in the head, not very bright, and never granted me any real intelligence at all- but I wasn’t completely daft- or at least only when it suited me to be so!!).

I recall I got this strange feeling of going hot and cold at the same time- a surge of dark power coursing through my legs and chest. The plan I hatched and put into operation there and then was to thereafter withdraw all voluntary displays of fondness towards my mother- and only to embrace or kiss her when she asked me to, standing aside to allow my brothers and sisters to claim the lion’s share of her affection. In retrospect of course this was terribly cruel of me and upset my mother a great deal I suspect- and to be absolutely honest it hurt me a great deal too- but that was precisely why I chose to do it- BECAUSE I KNEW it would break her heart that I had locked away all signs of emotional dependence on her.

She'd hurt me by claiming to know how I felt, and this would be my revenge. She was turning this into some silly drama by pretending that I didn’t know who she was- well then, so be it. If that was the game, then alright I’ll play by your rules, mummy, and we’ll see who backs down first. Why should she assume that because she was my mother that she should have an automatic entitlement to my thoughts, my love, my identity? Hadn’t she been the one to tell me that growing up was about breaking free of ones parents and making ones own way in the world? OK then, so be it. This little boy’s heart had longed for attention which I felt was going to be denied me forever more, and lavished instead on this new arrival, my sister Katie, and my other younger siblings. All mum and dad’s time and energy from now onwards would be taken up with caring for my three younger siblings; my needs would remain secondary to theirs- perhaps rightly so one might think; but to my 3 year old mind this was sickeningly unjust. I didn’t feel ready to be abandoned like this. I would take charge of this and do it myself.

This was a defining event in my early life, and marked the beginning of my individuation process as a nascent personality, and generally fucked-up ego. And perhaps even more interesting and significant than this was the fact that this early episode was in fact the very first time in my life I ever remember pretending to feel something other than what I truly felt inside. What I mean is, this was the first time I ever ACTED! It perhaps set the mark for everything in my life that came after. Inwardly, what I felt was a deep sense of loss and betrayal- but I chose to mask this with a frosty and cold rebuttal- a deliberately constructed charade that I didn’t remember my own mother. She had made this possible, and I wanted her to live with the consequences of having created this situation. After all, if mummy was always right- simply because she gave birth to me- and if, as she also claimed, she knew me far better than I could know my own self, and could see into my inner thoughts- well OK, so be it; I will behave as if that were true- and then watch her suffer the cruel consequences of her assumptions. My acting became about blocking her from seeing my true feelings. My damaged ego was fuelled by an unconscious but toxic envy of my younger brothers and sisters, and a naked fear of rejection by my parents and a rejection of this new regime of self-sacrifice that was being imposed on me. I was going to show her the consequences of her arrogant and false assumptions, and see how much she liked being rejected by me. Of course I am describing something I could never really properly think through at the time. It is only now I can see what happened in that instant.

The reason I mention all of this is because there are two moments in Tally’s Blood that, for me, are somehow deeply redolent of that primal scene. One is where the 6 year old, Hughie, is explaining to Lucia that his mother needs him to be the big, brave man in the family now his father has died, and has been forbidden to cry.

And the other moment that moves me even more deeply comes just before the interval. Massimo Pedreschi returns home after 4-years' incarceration in a POW camp for enemy aliens in Canada. He arrives at the door, and he greets Rosinella, his wife, and then turns to his erstwhile daughter, Lucia (now aged 10). Lucia stares and waits awkwardly at the other side of the room, reticent and cautious, as Massimo extends his arms to her. But she seems not to recognise him- he has lost a lot of his hair; he looks tired, older, thinner.

"Lucia...?" he asks, searchingly.

Lucia pauses and then takes one tentative step forward… and then another, before she begins to accelerate, and then finally launches herself into Massimo’s arms as he lifts her high off the floor. The music swells to a crescendo and the lights dim to blackout on this tearful family tableau. All rather cheesy you might well say... But this sequence is so deeply poignant for me because it contains echoes and parallels with that episode when I was three, offering a kind of evocation and artistic reconciliation of my own past.

And the reason I think I wanted to direct this play is because these two moments move me so much. They are so redolent of my own 'primal scene'. I hope it isn't that I am in any way using this project as some kind of self-indulgent psychodrama workshop, but these moments certainly do offer me the potential for deep inner soul repair, and psychological healing.

Emotional and sexual repression, matriarchal control, Catholic exclusivity, that whole sorry paradigm of 'sanctification through suffering' and the denial of affection are all woven deep into my directorial interpretation of this play- and these themes are very recognisable to me and reminiscent of my own childhood.

Art as therapy anyone?