On December 31, 2008 around 7:00 in the evening in a subway station in Manhattan, I found myself sobbing, gasping for air, choking on the disappointments of my life and my self, mourning the deaths of so many ideals by which I had defined my life, purging all the sorrow I had compressed down into the far corners of my psyche, like stuffing batting into the points of a star-shaped pillow. It was the least mature cry of my adult life. I was past the point of trying to keep it to some light tearing and a couple of sniffles and tissue dabs. It was a freight train, barreling through my heart full throttle, and I could do nothing to stop it.

I have always envied people who could cry with abandon. Me? I feel a cry coming and I start stacking sandbags…

You won’t be surprised to hear how deeply relieved I felt in some ways after this cry. But I was also completely disconcerted. I was heartsore for weeks. Only a few minutes after it ended, though, a huge ray of truth shined into my awareness: I take myself and my life way too seriously. Who can breathe in the space of all that pressure?

I was frozen – in my heart and my creativity – in a blurry pond of perfectionism. If it’s not going to look, sound, be perfect, don’t do it at all. So I didn’t even show up. I squashed all my real best parts just so that negative ego wouldn’t feel threatened!

It amazes me how the risk of looking silly can paralyze even the most talented among us.

I am not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I did make a vow that happened to arrive on the eve of a new year (incidentally, the best and healthiest year of my life), and I feel I have – for the most part! – honored that vow to take myself less seriously. Ironically, it has meant getting serious about my life in a lot of ways. I hired a life coach (dear Laura Biering!) and worked on getting back in touch with the parts of me that need to be heard. I worked on getting back in touch with my passion for life – to SHIFT my approach from one of reaction, or always feeling like I was on damage control, to one of PROACTION and creating my life according to my desires and priorities and J-O-Y.

That is the super-short version.

What I haven’t told you is that I promised I would do ONE stand-up comedy open mic night before the end of 2009… you know, as a true exercise in applying my sparkling sense of humor to my own life (instead of just finding the humor in everything else and then beating the shit out of myself for.. oh, say… not getting the laundry done or something). If you really don’t take yourself so seriously, it should be no big deal, right?

I have 27 days to accomplish this RISK.

Last night, I did my homework. My boyfriend and I went to investigate the open mic at a local comedy club as a little pre-risk research. I have to tell you, it bolstered my confidence and lit a fire under my ass.

I’m going to DO THIS THING! It’s so on. Tune in to this time next month to hear how it all went down…

Andrea Lea is a writer who is cracking the code of the symbolic and recording the spiritually hilarious. Her adventures so far have included several years and a cooking show in post-Apartheid South Africa, a stint in rural south Georgia, a brief but sparkling singing career which she intends to revive, and a glorious indigo daughter named Dom. When she's not painting, taking photos, writing, singing, or doing laundry, Andrea can be found in her kitchen, channeling her grandmother through new recipes, and feeding folks.
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