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Acting Was an Outlet for my Trauma, but the Rejection Made Me Lose Belief in Myself for Years
What else fuels us when the brokenness is what feeds our fire?
I don’t know if childhood trauma made me creative. I think it influenced me towards the escape provided by the arts, but maybe I always would have been a creative type regardless. But I doubt the intensity of my need for it would have been the same.
The thing that freed me from the stress and terror of an alcoholic, abusive parent at a young age was my imagination.
I would often go in my closet and read. The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis was a particular favorite. Unsurprisingly the idea of opening a door to another land in my closet immensely appealed to me.
As an only child I could play with my toys and create intricate scenarios in my brain. I could listen to “Puff the Magic Dragon” on my record player and genuinely envision the escape to a magical land that the song promised. I could quite happily live with a dragon, I felt.
I was a smart kid who got good grades, as I got older I felt like I was fighting a tide between the attention my teachers paid me and not wanting an excess of scrutiny on my home life.
