The Aftermath Part 2

There is nervousness, and then there is sheer dread. We're talking verge of tears, unable to utter simple phrases and sitting in stunned, but trembling, silence.

That's where I was yesterday afternoon. I needed hugs. I needed love. I needed.

It occurred to me that this would be the first time in my entire life that I wouldn't have my family, my friends or my community by my side for an opening. I suddenly felt incredibly alone. Here I was on the biggest, most important moment of my career so far, and I hadn't heard heads nor tails from home.

An e-mail from my brother... one line... but the best line I have ever read in my life. But where were mum and dad?

Not hearing from my parents really hit hard. I wandered back to the kitchen to be around people. I just needed people. I didn't think I could really communicate with them, but apparently, the deer in the headlights look said it all. And that's when it started...

"Above all, go out there for your own pleasure. Have fun. Its all about enjoying yourself."

"Hey, come one, you're the World Champion!"

"It will be fine. No matter what happens, they will love you. All those people out there? 95% have no idea what they're looking at. If you make a mistake, they'll never know."

"This is a birth, no matter what, it will be beautiful. Whether its painful or easy, it will be beautiful."

"It will be magical. After all this time, effort, pain... it has to be. It can't be anything else. It will be magical."

But my favourite piece of advice came from a very dear friend of mine who has been with this company for perhaps 15 years. He told me that what he likes to do is take a moment, before anyone arrives, to sit in the public. Just to take a moment to be, and to be a part of this whole circus entity. I don't think I have ever taken a moment to go into the stands and look down on the stage. Earlier in the day, I went out on stage and looked out in to the seats. That's when a voice called down from the technical grid and said, "Yup, and its going to be full of 1000 people!"

Did I mention that the last show I was in sometimes only had 20 people in the audience?

Wanting to shake the fear that had been building, I went to sit in the stands. I had never seen the stage from that perspective. It helped, but not as much as the crying I did (on the shoulder of my same dear friend) a little later.

I put on my make up, I made many trips to the bathroom, I forced down some dinner. I still hadn't heard from my parents and I was slowly sinking into a terrible mood. I wasn't at all excited. And then, looking at the program, I was that I was credited as the "young girl in the wheel". My heart sank. I was not the young woman in the wheel, but the young girl. All that fighting over three months and in order to win, they put it in ink. I didn't even want to go on stage.

Now if you're thinking "that can't be a good way to start a show, let alone the first show of the tour!", you're right. The worst part is, I had no idea how to get out of that state of mind. The good news is I didn't need to know how. It turns out the circus gods wouldn't allow it.

The hugs started. The energy under the big top became tangible. Then, the crowd came in. They were electric. They were infectious. The show hadn't even started and they were cheering. My stomach is in knots just remembering it. Its supposed to be the artist that goes out and gives a gift to the audience. But they lifted me up and took me in their hands before they even saw me, eradicating the storm clouds in my heart. They gave me a gift.

The lights went down. The curtains parted. It was show time...